You realize there are various methods of warming a man up—for instance, at my hotel one evening a bell-boy came to the desk, after answering a call, and said:
"That fellow up in 999 says he's freezing."
"All right," said the clerk, cheerfully, "we'll soon have him hot enough. Here, take him up his bill."
I've got a great friend, Henry Badger by name, that I must tell you about.
I hardly know whether to admire the monumental nerve of Henry Badger, or class him as a near relative of the jackass tribe.
You may not know it, but his neighbors have long been aware of the fact that his good spouse ruled the roost with an iron rod, and Henry's former buoyant spirit has all but withered in his breast.
Why, he used to strut the streets with all the pompous airs of an alderman, while now he shuffles along as though he owed ten tailors on the block.
It is awful, the change made in that man.