vy, that's clear; and
then, you see, the feet, from the centre of gravity being destroyed,
become too light; and if you put that and that together, why, a man
can't stand. You understand my demonstration?"

"It was heavy wet, that ale, and so I suppose it's all right," replied
the pedlar; "but still ale a'n't poured into the head or into the feet
of a man, but into the internals, which are right in the middle of a
man; so, how do you make out your case, Mr Furness?"

"Why, Byres, you talk of the residuum."

"Never said a word about it; and, as I stand here, never even heard the
word before."

"Perhaps not: the residuum is, you see, Byres, what is left."

"If that's residgium, I didn't mean to say a word about it; there was
none left, for you drained the pot."

"Good, Byres; you have never been to college, that's clear. Now,
observe, when a man pours down into his stomach a certain quantity of
liquor, the spirituous or lighter part ascends to his head, and that
makes his head heavy. Do you understand?"

"No; what's light can't make things heavy."

"Can't it?--you know nothing about the matter. Have you not a proof
before you?" replied the schoolmaster, reeling, and catching hold of the
parapet for support; "look at that unfortunate man, who has yielded to
excess."

"Very true; I see that he's drunk, but I want to know how it is that he
got drunk?"

"By drinking."

"That I knew before."

"Then why ask any more questions? Had we not better proceed, and take
him home to his expectant and unhappy wife? 'Tis a sad, sad thing, that
a man should `put an enemy into his mouth to steal away his brains.'"

"Half a pint will do that with Rushbrook," replied the pedlar; "they say
that he was wounded on his head, and that half his brains are gone
already, and that's why he has a pension."

"Yes, seventeen pounds a year; paid quarterly, without deduction, and
only to walk four miles to get it," replied Furness; "yet how misplaced
is the liberality on the part of the government. Does he work? No; he
does nothing but drink and lie in bed all day, while I must be up early
and remain late, teaching the young idea at twopence per week. Friend
Byres, `mercy is not itself which oft looks so.' Now, it is my opinion
that it would be a kindness to this poor wretch if we were to toss him,
as he now is, over the bridge into the rushing stream; it would end all
his troubles."

"And save us the trouble of getting him ho