Diary of a Rumseller

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Mar 26, 1912

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 39, No. 13.

Diary of a Rumseller

MONDAY.—Took ragged Bill's last dime for whisky.

Tuesday.—Had a visit from Charlie Piper, who swore off three months ago and signed the pledge; gave him three drinks on tick.

Wednesday.—That poor nervous fool, Dick Plaster, who gets wild and nervous after one drink, came in to-day; sold him a quart. P. S.—Hear he killed his wife in a drunken rage.

Thursday.—Johnny Slogan's wife begged me never to sell another drop to him. She cried till I promised. P. S.—Sold him enough this very day to make him smash furniture and beat his children. Ha, ha, ha! Business is business.

Friday.—Phil Carter had no money;

took his wife's wedding ring and silk dress for an old bill; sent him home gloriously drunk.

Saturday.—Young Sam Chap took his third drink to-day. I know he likes it, and will make a speedy drunkard, but I gave him the value of his money. His father implored me to help break up the practise before it became a habit, but I told him if I didn't sell it some one else would.

Sunday.—Sold beer and wine to some boys, but they'll be ashamed to tell it. Guess my till is fuller to-night than the church baskets are.

N. B.—My business must be respectable, for real gentlemen patronize my bar—and yet, I guess I won't keep a diary, for these facts look very queer on paper.—Selected.