While the life-line is being cast and the breeches-buoy rigged, lay the sufferer on his back and spray him thoroughly with a siphon of carbonic until signs of consciousness appear. In the majority of cases his first words will be: “Make mine a rye highball.” You will then repeat the siphon treatment, at the same time making a few passes over him and reciting monotonously in his ear: “Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.” Usually this will produce a condition in which the breeches-buoy can be quickly adjusted and the sufferer hauled back on the Wagon. If it fails, work his arms up and down like pump-handles, and exclaim in threatening tones: “Your wife is coming back on the 5.03 train.” If his eyes remain glazed and his struggles continue, add harshly: “She telegraphs that Mother is coming with her.” Complete coma should result. If not, it can be induced by tactfully whispering: “The next round is on the house.” This has never failed. The breeches-buoy may now be attached and the sufferer snaked aboard the Wagon and lashed to the tank. During his convalescence a friend should be constantly at his side, reading to him the history of the Johnstown flood. A single chapter has worked wonders. THE WATER WAGON LIBRARY The following carefully selected list of Books may be had by applying to any of the deck-hands. They need not be returned. “D’ri and I” (Batcheller). “Many Waters” (Shackleford). “The Desert” (White). “Many Cargoes” (Jacobs). “The Water Babies” (Kingsley). “Ebb Tide” (Stevenson). “Frenzied Frappes” (Lawson). “The Two Van Revellers” (Tankington). Stop that Merry-Go-Round!! Do things revolve when you retire? Does your room whirl like a fly-wheel in a power-house? Does your trunk go by like the Twentieth Century Limited? Do you feel as if you were looping the loop? If so, you can flag the merry-go-round with one of =Professor Bunn’s Patent Plugs for Pifflicated People= One of these, inserted anywhere in the wall, will bring things to a stand-still, or, put in place before retiring, will insure a quiet night’s rest. DON’T SLEEP LIKE A TOP! +Third Day+ When you move from Brooklyn, be sure to burn your bridge tickets behind you.—McKelway. ⁂ Treat, and the world drinks with you; quit, and it leaves you alone.—Horace. LOG -- Third Day The morning opened clear and extra dry. Big head winds. The Mate tried to take the Sun, but the sky was cloudy, so he took the Tribune. ⁂ Barometer extra brut. Wind S. W. and scorching. ⁂ The saloon sounds like a dog-show. Everybody has a dry, hacking cough. ⁂ The Steward, assisted by the Ship’s Valet, dusted off the tongues of the passengers and sprayed them with Blisterine. They were very grateful, and a collection has been taken up to purchase a loving-cup for him. ⁂