“Yes,” sez Josiah, “it wuz quite a sight; Martin and I enjoyed it.
“But the drinkin’ here in Sheffield,” sez Josiah, “is sunthin’ dretful to witness.” Sez he, “I thought we had drinkin’ habits in America, but I never see nothin’, nor I don’t believe anybody else did, to compare with some of the places we visited to-day. Why,” sez he, “it would do a W. C. T. U. good to jest look at ’em.”
“Good?” sez I sternly.
“Wall, yes,” sez he; “it would set ’em to kinder soarin’ and wavin’ them banners of theirn and talkin’—you know jest how they love to talk,” sez he.
Sez I, “You better stop right where you are.” Sez I, “Do you realize that you are talkin’ about your pardner?”
“Wall, yes,” sez he; “that’s what I wuz kinder figgerin’ on—Heaven knows you love to talk, you can’t dispute that.”
I wouldn’t dane to argy with him.
But, indeed, it wuz a sight to walk through some of the low, dingy, filthy streets, with saloons on every side flauntin’ their brazen signs, and men and wimmen with bloated, sodden faces, that strong drink had almost changed into the faces of animals.
The same sin—the same useless, needless sin, parent of all other vices—jest as bad on this side of the Atlantic as in Jonesville and America, and worse.
I left it there a-performin’ and cuttin’ up, and I found it here actin’ jest the same. You’d think after crossin’ the Atlantic it would git sobered up a little—seein’ so much water and everything.