Again my constitution had triumphed over John Barleycorn.

I had escaped from another death-pit, dragged myself through another morass, and perilously acquired the discretion that would enable me to drink wisely for many another year to come.
Heavens! That was twenty years ago, and I am still very much and wisely alive; and I have seen much, done much, lived much, in that intervening score of years; and I shudder when I think how close a shave I ran, how near I was to missing that splendid fifth of a century that has been mine.

And, oh, it wasn't John Barleycorn's fault that he didn't get me that night of the Hancock Fire Brigade..