Men died of whisky; but then, too, fishermen were capsized and drowned, hoboes fell under trains and were cut to pieces.

To cope with winds and waves, railroad trains, and bar-rooms, one must use judgment.

To get drunk after the manner of men was all right, but one must do it with discretion.

No more quarts of whisky for me.
What really decided me to go to sea was that I had caught my first vision of the death-road which John Barleycorn maintains for his devotees.

It was not a clear vision, however, and there were two phases of it, somewhat jumbled at the time.