I remember, inside the prison at Buffalo, how some of us got magnificently jingled, and how, on the streets of Buffalo after our release, another jingle was financed with pennies begged on the main-drag.
I had no call for alcohol, but when I was with those who drank, I drank with them.

I insisted on travelling or loafing with the livest, keenest men, and it was just these live, keen ones that did most of the drinking.
They were the more comradely men, the more venturous, the more individual.

Perhaps it was too much temperament that made them turn from the commonplace and humdrum to find relief in the lying and fantastic sureties of John Barleycorn.

Be that as it may, the men I liked best, desired most to be with, were invariably to be found in John Barleycorn's company.
In the course of my tramping over the United States I achieved a new concept.

As a tramp, I was behind the scenes of society--aye, and down in the cellar.