that ‘good eating deserveth good drinking,’ he helped himself to a half-gallon can full of beer from a barrel which he found in the larder, left the tap running and the gas burning, and, having thought for the future, he filled the coat-pockets from a dish of uncooked sausages. Then he returned to the dining-room, where he drew a couch close to the table, and proceeded to smoke and drink till blissful sleep came upon him. At seven the next morning, when the servant came down, she was surprised to find the gas burning, the passage flooded with beer, and the front-door ajar. When she went into the dining-room her surprise was turned into terror, for strange guttural sounds proceeded from the couch. She recognised the master’s overcoat, but she was quite sure that the long red nose that pointed to the ceiling did not belong to the master, so she screamed and fainted. When the master came down he tried to awaken and question the man, but it was of no use. He therefore went for the police, who also tried to awaken him. Neither could they succeed, so they fetched an ambulance, upon which he was lifted bodily--silk hat, overcoat, sausages, umbrella, and all--and taken to the police station. He was charged and taken up to the court, where he still had the coat on and the et ceteras in the pockets when he stood in the dock. It was not till he returned from Holloway to stand again before the magistrate that he knew what he was charged with. He was sent for trial, and received a sentence of twelve months’ imprisonment. But from my conversations with him I believe that he had not the slightest idea that he was doing any wrong, and I believe he was as innocent of any criminal intentions as anyone could be. If a man has a love for classical poetry, drink will also set him going regardless of time or place. I once saw a tramp about thirty-five years of age standing in the dock charged with being drunk and disorderly in the small hours of the morning; although clothed almost in rags, he had a clean-shaven and refined face. The officer who had him in custody said that he heard the prisoner using very bad language--‘unseen language’--that he went to him and told him to go home, but that he refused and kept on shouting and swearing, stamping his feet and waving his hand; it being a quiet street and everyone in bed, he took him into custody.