may be taken as a medicine.  Now you are in a fever of passion, teetotaller; so, pray take this tumbler of brandy; take it on the homoeopathic principle, that heat is to be expelled by heat.  You are in a temperance fury, so swallow the contents of this tumbler, and it will, perhaps, cure you.  You look at the glass wistfully—­you occasionally take a glass medicinally—­and it is probable you do.  Take one now.  Consider what a dreadful thing it would be to die passion drunk; to appear before your Maker with intemperate language on your lips.  That’s right!  You don’t seem to wince at the brandy.  That’s right!—­well done!  All down in two pulls.  Now you look like a reasonable being!

If the conduct of Lavengro with retard to drink is open to little censure, assuredly the use which he makes of his fists is entitled to none at all.  Because he has a pair of tolerably strong fists, and knows to a certain extent how to use them, is he a swaggerer or oppressor?  To what ill account does he turn them?  Who more quiet, gentle, and inoffensive than he?  He beats off a ruffian who attacks him in a dingle; has a kind of friendly tuzzle with Mr. Petulengro, and behold the extent of his fistic exploits.

Ay, but he associates with prize-fighters; and that very fellow, Petulengro, is a prize-fighter, and has fought for a stake in a ring.  Well, and if he had not associated with prize-fighters, how could he have used his fists?  Oh, anybody can use his fists in his own defence, without being taught by prize-fighters.  Can they?  Then why does not the Italian, or Spaniard, or Affghan use his fists when insulted or outraged, instead of having recourse to the weapons which he has recourse to?  Nobody can use his fists without being taught the use of them by those who have themselves been taught, no more than any one can “whiffle” without being taught by a master of the art.  Now let any man of the present day try to whiffle.  Would not any one who wished to whiffle have to go to a master of the art?  Assuredly! but where would he find one at the present day?  The last of the whifflers hanged himself about a fortnight ago on a bell-rope in a church steeple of “the old town,” from pure grief that there was no further demand for the exhibition of his art, there being no demand for whiffling since the discontinuation of Guildhall banquets.  Whiffling is lost.  The old chap left his sword behind him; let any one take up the old chap’s sword and try to whiffle.  Now much the same hand as he would make who should take up the whiffler’s sword and try to whiffle, would he who should try to use his fists who had never had the advantage of a master.  Let no one think that men use their fists naturally in their own disputes—­men have naturally recourse to any other thing to defend themselves or to offend others; they fly to the stick, to the stone, to the murderous and cowardly knife, or to abuse as cowardly as the knife, and occasionally