"
"Yes," said he, "all my cooked whisky is out."
"If this is not quite cooked, it is as hot as fire anyhow, and burns like
red-hot lava, and the whole dose seems to have got lodged in my windpipe."
I might have tasted it, but don't think that I did. All I can remember
now, is a dim recollection of a nasty, greasy, burning something going
down my throat and chest, and smelling, as I remember at this day,
like a decoction of red-pepper tea, flavored with coal oil, turpentine
and tobacco juice.
THE HOSPITAL
I went to the hospital that evening, saw it, and was satisfied with
hospital life. I did not wish to be called a hospital rat. I had no
idea of taking stock and making my headquarters at this place.
Everything seemed clean and nice enough, but the smell! Ye gods!
I stayed there for supper. The bill of fare was a thin slice of light
bread and a plate of soup, already dished out and placed at every plate.
I ate it, but it only made me hungry. At nine o'clock I had to go to bed,
and all the lights were put out. Every man had a little bunk to himself.
I do not know whether I slept or not, but I have a dim recollection of
"sawing gourds," and jumping up several times to keep some poor wretch
from strangling.
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