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THE AFTERMATH OF REVELRY 201
chief called the next case, the while some of us
poured over-proof rum down the throat of the
fashion - editor at an adjacent hostelry.
He
subsequently trousered his salary, and signed the
receipt, satisfactorily, after pleading that he was
suffering that morning from "shock."
The chief looked somewhat incredulous.
" Is he an inebriate ? " he asked, as soon as
the invalid had left the office.
" Oh ! dear no, sir," replied the acrostic-
editor, " he's almost a teetotaller."
And the incident was finished.
But what is really the best thing to be done
under such sad circumstances ? Should the
invalid resort to the old remedy, and take at
once that " hair of the dog " who bit him over
night ? Not invariably. For instance, should
British port, or brandy of the desiccated-window-
sill {vide a former chapter) have been the causa
teterrima of the trouble, nobody, however shaky,
would revert to such remedies, the first thing
after waking. And frequently it is difficult for
the waker to remember which dog it was that
assaulted him. I once visited a young friend in
his chambers, at the hour of noon, and found
him with a sad countenance, seated in an easy-
chair faced by a perfect army of assorted bottles.
I was about to administer a mild reproof, but he
stopped me.
'It's all right, dear old chappie, I've been
taking a hair of the dog—you know. But I met
such a lot of dogs, jolly dogs too, last night,
that I'm hanged if I can remember which of 'em
bit me !"