"Will you believe it, sir? No sooner had I closed my eyes than I was in a public-house. I--I--who've been a Band of Hope ever since I was a baby. I've heard say I never took to the bottle even in earliest infancy, though it was but a bottle of milk, so ingrained in me be temperance principles. I've heard mother say she put a bit of sopped bread into a rag, and let me have that when a baby--so stubborn was I, and so furious did I kick out with my little legs when shown the bottle. It was the name, I reckon, set me against it. However, sir, there I was, just out of the pulpit at Bethesda, and in the 'Fox and Hounds' drinking. I tried to call out for Gingerade, but the words got altered in my throat to Whisky Toddy. And what was more, I was singing--roaring out at the top of my voice-- "'Come, my lads, let us be jolly, Drive away dull melancholy; For to grieve it is a folly When we meet together!'" The quarryman covered his eyes with his hands--he was ashamed to look up. "If that wasn't bad enough, the words that followed were worse--and I a teetotaler down to the soles of my feet. "'Here's the bottle, as it passes Do not fail to fill your glasses; Water drinkers are dull asses When they're met together. "'Milk is meet for infancy, Ladies like to sip Bohea; Not such stuff for you and me When we're met together.' "All the while I sang it I knew I was saying good-bye to my consistency, I was going against my dearest convictions. But I couldn't help myself, it was as though an evil spirit possessed me. I was myself and yet not myself. It was terrible--terrible--terrible!" The quarryman swung his pasty bag and smote his breast with it. "That warn't all," he continued, and lowered his tone. "There was an uncommon pretty barmaid with red rosy cheeks and curling black hair; and somehow I got my arm round her waist and was kissing her. Well, I don't so much mind about that, for kissing is scriptural, and Paul calls them kisses of peace. But these were not kisses of peace by any means--and there was the mischief, for I knowed my wife was looking on, and, sir, I knowed the consequences would be orful--orful--simply orful." The quarryman's head sank on his knees, he clasped his hands over the back of his head, and groaned for full five minutes. Presently he looked up, pulled himself together, and continued his narrative.