Billy Baxters Letters | Page 7

She could
build the best battleship Dewey ever saw with her little hammer.
Estelle's friend, after much urging, then sang a pathetic ballad entitled,
"She Should Be Scolded, but Not Turned Adrift," and I sat there with
one eye shut, so that I could see single, and kept saying, "Per'fly
beauf'ful."
About this time I commenced to forget. I remember getting an awful
rise out of Estelle by remarking that her switch didn't match her hair.

She came up like a human yeast cake. Johnny sided with the dame, and
said I might at least try to act like a gentleman, even if I weren't one.
Perhaps the grape wasn't getting to Johnny by this time. He was nobby
and boss. He was dropping his r's like a Southerner, and you know how
much of a Southerner Johnny is--Johnstown, Pa.; and he was hollering
around about his little three-year-old, standard-bred, and registered bay
mare out of Highland Belle, by Homer Wilkes, with a mark of
twenty-one, that could out-trot any thing of her age that ever champed a
bit. Did you get that, Jim? That ever champed a bit; and still he said at
noon to-day that he had had two, possibly three, glasses of wine, but no
more. The only way that mare of Johnny's can go a mile in twenty-one
is "In the Baggage Coach Ahead."
Say, Jim, I've never said much about it, but you let any of these fellows
who own horses get a soak on, and they get to be a kind of a village
pest, with their talk about blowing up in the stretch, shoe blisters on the
left forearm, etc. Now, since when did a horse get an arm? They have
got me winging. I can't follow them at all.
But to return to last night. When Johnny threw that thing at me about
champing the bit, it was all off to Buffalo with little Will. I went out of
business right there.
When I got up this morning I had to ask the bellboy what hotel I was in.
I'll see the fellows to-night, and they'll all tell me how dirty my face
was, and what I called so and so, and make me feel as bad as they
possibly can. It's a wonder a fellow doesn't get used to that, but I never
do; I feel meaner each time. Guess I'll take the veil.
Don't fail to come down Saturday. Several of us are going yachting on
the Ohio River. It will be lovely billiards.
Yours as ever,
Billy.
P. S.--Do you know anything about that George's place?
Horse Sense
Sometimes you eat too much, sometimes you drink too much, and
sometimes you do both. In any event, you feel like the very old scratch
the next morning. Too much liquor overheats the blood. Too much
food, and the liver goes on a strike. The first remedy which should
suggest itself is a purgative which will act on the liver, and cleanse the
system of all the indigestible junk with which it has been overtaxed.

This is positively the foundation for permanent relief. The next thing is
to cool the blood. Now, isn't it common horse sense?
Think it over.
The R--R-- is the only water which acts on the liver. It's base is sodium
phosphate.
The R--R-- is the only water which cools the blood, Overheated blood
is what causes the pressure on the head.
The R--R-- is the only pleasant-tasting aperient water of any strength
on the market to-day.
We have stumbled onto a good thing, and we've got the money to push
it.
You remember the man who at breakfast said: "Waiter, bring me about
ten grains of oatmeal, and put stickers on it so that it will stay down;
and say, waiter, please look as pleasant as possible, for I feel like h--l."
Well, that's how a person's stomach gets some mornings.
If you are going to drink an aperient, why try to force down a water that
is warm, and tastes like a lot of bad eggs, doesn't touch your liver, and
won't cool your blood, when you can get the R--R--, cold and sparkling
and pleasant, which will do all these things?
If you are annoyed with constipation, stomach or liver trouble, use as
your system dictates, and see bow much better you feel. It can't hurt
you. Best before breakfast.

IN SOCIETY
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