Desperate Remedies

Manston grew very friendly.

'Postman, I don't know what your custom is,' he said, after a while; 'but between you and me, I always carry a drop of something warm in my pocket when I am out on such a morning as this. Try it.' He handed the bottle of brandy.

'If you'll excuse me, please. I haven't took no stimmilents these five years.' ''Tis never too late to mend.' 'Against the regulations, I be afraid.' 'Who'll know it?' 'That's true--nobody will know it. Still, honesty's the best policy.' 'Ah--it is certainly. But, thank God, I've been able to get on without it yet. You'll surely drink with me?' 'Really, 'tis a'most too early for that sort o' thing--however, to oblige a friend, I don't object to the faintest shadder of a drop.' The postman drank, and Manston did the same to a very slight degree.

Five minutes later, when they came to a gate, the flask was pulled out again.

'Well done!' said the postman, beginning to feel its effect; 'but guide my soul, I be afraid 'twill hardly do!' 'Not unless 'tis well followed, like any other line you take up,' said Manston. 'Besides, there's a way of liking a drop of liquor, and of being good--even religious--at the same time.' 'Ay, for some thimble-and-button in-an-out fellers; but I could never get into the knack o' it; not I.' 'Well, you needn't be troubled; it isn't necessary for the higher class of mind to be religious--they have so much common-sense that they can risk playing with fire.' 'That hits me exactly.' 'In fact, a man I know, who always had no other god but "Me;" and devoutly loved his neighbour's wife, says now that believing is a mistake.' 'Well, to be sure! However, believing in God is a mistake made by very few people, after all.' 'A true remark.' 'Not one Christian in our parish would walk half a mile in a rain like this to know whether the Scripture had concluded him under sin or grace.' 'Nor in mine.' 'Ah, you may depend upon it they'll do away wi' Goddymity altogether afore long, although we've had him over us so many years.' 'There's no knowing.' 'And I suppose the Queen 'ill be done away wi' then. A pretty concern that'll be! Nobody's head to put on your letters; and then your honest man who do pay his penny will never be known from your scamp who don't. O, 'tis a nation!' 'Warm the cockles of your heart, however. Here's the bottle waiting.' 'I'll oblige you, my friend.' The drinking was repeated. The postman grew livelier as he went on, and at length favoured the steward with a song, Manston himself joining in the chorus.