I've had many a blow; but yours was the solidest that ever jarred thy mortal frame, Father Beret." The twain began to laugh.

There is nothing like a reminiscence to stir up fresh mutual sympathy.
"If your intercostals were somewhat sore for a time, on account of a contact with priestly knuckles, doubtless there soon set in a corresponding uneasiness in the region of your conscience.

Such shocks are often vigorously alterative and tonic--eh, my son ?" "You jolted me sober, Father, and then I was ashamed of myself.

But where does all your tremendous strength lie?
You don't look strong." While speaking Farnsworth leaned near Father Beret and grasped his arm.
The young man started, for his fingers, instead of closing around a flabby, shrunken old man's limb, spread themselves upon a huge, knotted mass of iron muscles.

With a quick movement Father Beret shook off Farnsworth's hand, and said: "I am no Samson, my son.