GET ON THE WATER WAGON. 27 Come with me. Now, remember, we have the whole bunch of booze fighters on the water wagon, and I’m going home now. Over here I was John, the drunken bum. The whisky gang got my dollar and I got a quart. Over here I am John on the waterwagon. The merchant got my dollar and I have his meat, flour and calico, and I’m going home now. “Be it ever so humble, there’s no plaee like home without booze.” Wife comes out and says, “Hello, John, what have you got?” “Two porterhouse steaks, Sally.” “What’s that bundle, Pa?” “Cloth to make you a new dress, sis. Your mother has fixed your old one so often, it looks like a crazy quilt.” “And what have you there?” “That’s a pair of shoes for you, Tom; and here is some cloth to make you a pair of pants. Your mother has patched the old ones so often they look like map of the United States.” What’s the matter with the country? We have been dumping the money into the whisky hole that ought to have been spent for flour, beef and calico, and we haven’t that hole filled, up yet. A man comes along and says: “Are you a drunkard?” “Yes, I’m a drunkard.” “Where are you going?” “I am going to Hell.” “Why?” “Because the Good Book says: ‘No drunkard shall inherit the Kingdom of God,’ so I am going to Hell.” Another man comes along and I say: “Are you a church member?” “Yes, I am a church member.” “Where are you going?” “I am going to Heaven.” “Did you vote for the saloon?” “Yes.” “Then you should go to Hell.” Say, if the man that drinks the whisky goes to Hell,
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