“It was heavy wet, that ale, and so I suppose it’s all right,” replied the pedlar; “but still ale a’n’t poured into the head or into the feet of a man, but into the internals, which are right in the middle of a man; so, how do you make out your case, Mr Furness?”
“Why, Byres, you talk of the residuum.”
“Never said a word about it; and, as I stand here, never even heard the word before.”
“Perhaps not: the residuum is, you see, Byres, what is left.”
“If that’s residgium, I didn’t mean to say a word about it; there was none left, for you drained the pot.”
“Good, Byres; you have never been to college, that’s clear. Now, observe, when a man pours down into his stomach a certain quantity of liquor, the spirituous or lighter part ascends to his head, and that makes his head heavy. Do you understand?”
“No; what’s light can’t make things heavy.”
“Can’t it?—you know nothing about the matter. Have you not a proof before you?” replied the schoolmaster, reeling, and catching hold of the parapet for support; “look at that unfortunate man, who has yielded to excess.”
“Very true; I see that he’s drunk, but I want to know how it is that he got drunk?”
“By drinking.”