Dr. A. E. Winship tells this story:
It was eleven o’clock on as disagreeable a night as Chicago knew last winter that I ordered a cab to take me to the Northwestern Station. Carriages were scarce, and I was asked to ride with another man.
“A good night this!”
“Humph,” I replied, “if anybody likes this kind, I don’t.”
“It is just the tonic I need for my eighty-two years. It blows the blues all out of a man if he ever had them, which I never do.”
“Do you often ride nights at your time of life?”
“Nearly every night; it does me good.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon. This is Doctor Willetts.”
“Certainly, and I would have been nursing old age twenty years ago if I had ever found anything bad in life. A night like this! Why, to growl about it, it would take a year off my life.”