THE ENEMY
step and the measured rhythm of stertorous requiem to a more legitimate sleeping-place. Maybe these veteran topers, these fontes et origines mali, themselves grew old in years, and suffered their twinges, and swore their expostulatory swears; but they had drunk their fill; while we, a degenerate progeny, have no drink, and begin our twinges in our cradle, interrupting with our infantine oaths the lullaby of our nurses, and finding, as we grow older, our books in the pinching boots, sermons in chalkstones, and Gout in everything.
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