“Young Tom and I, sir; as for old Tom, he was not in a state to help anybody.”
“I am humbled, Jacob—”
“Nonsense, old gentleman; why make a fuss about nothing?” said old Tom, who, overhearing our conversation came into the cabin. “You had a drop too much, that’s all, and what o’ that? It’s a poor heart that never rejoiceth. Rouse a bit, wash your face with old Thames water, and in half-an-hour you’ll be as fresh as a daisy.”
“My head acheth!” exclaimed the Dominie, “even as if there were a ball of lead rolling from one temple to the other; but my punishment is just.”
“That is the punishment of making too free with the bottle, for sartain; but if it is an offence, then it carries its own punishment and that’s quite sufficient. Every man knows that when the heart’s over light at night, that the head’s over heavy in the morning. I have known and proved it a thousand times. Well, what then? I puts the good against the bad, and I takes my punishment like a man.”
“Friend Dux, for so I will still call thee, thou lookest not at the offence in a moral point of vision.”
“What’s moral?” replied old Tom.
“I would point out that intoxication is sinful.”
“Intoxication sinful! I suppose that means that it’s a sin to get drunk. Now, master, it’s my opinion that as God Almighty has given us good liquor, it was for no other purpose than to drink it; and therefore it would be ungrateful to him, and a sin, not to get drunk—that is, with discretion.”
“How canst thou reconcile getting drunk with discretion, good Dux?”