“THE GOOD OF IT.”

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume XIX, Issue 1071, 15 September 1910, Page 22

“THE GOOD OF IT.”

He never, oh, he never broke a health law whatsoever —he bathed, breath-ed-deeply, and inhaled the open air; He observed the laws of diet, lived a life of calm and quiet, avoided all rich dishes, and partook of simple fare; All alcohol he hated, said its joys were overated, he never smoked tobacco, a cigar, or cigarette; His clothes were cool or warm, suiting sunshine or the storm, and his shoes were so constructed that his feet were never wet. No night-spree took his fancy, no siren’s necromancy, ever lured him or seduced him from the straight and narrow road; He eschewed all west-end joys, never went out with the “boys,” and in no way was a patron of pleasure’s dizzy code; His life was ruled by reason, he did nothing out of season, and stuck closer to the doctor’s word than man' was ever found; But —in yonder plot he sleepeth, where that lonely willow weepeth, and all of him that’s mortal lies six feet under ground!

And that other? He’s a devil, whose life is one long revel, he cares not for hygienic nor for any other rules; He’ll smoke whatever’s handy, drinks whisky, gin and brandy, and looks on water-waggoners as just so many fools. He abhors room ventilation, swallows without mastication, and cares not what his garments are in sunshine or in rain; He turns the night to daytime, makes early hours his playtime, playing solo, bridge, or poker for pastime or for gain; He will go on giddy whirls with the gay and beauchous girls, and the glitter pf the night-time pleases more than sunshine’s ray; He loves to haunt the places and loves to face the faces that one may see at eventide on pleasure’s primrose way; No doctor’s aid he ever tries, no liver pills he. ever buys, nor ever feels pain’s twinges in his muscles or his bones, But his voice rings loud with laughter, rings at night and next morn after, his cheeks are two red roses, and he weighs just sixteen stones.