He has his rooles an' he never transgresses 'em. The first
five days of the week, he limits himse'f to fifteen drinks per diem;
Saturday he rides eight miles down to the village, casts aside
restraints, an' goes the distance; Sunday he devotes to meditations.
"'Thar's times when I inclines to the notion that my grandfather
possesses partic'lar aptitoodes for strong drink. This I'll say
without no thoughts of boastin', he's the one lone gent whereof I
has a knowledge, who can give a three-ring debauch onder one canvas
in one evenin'. As I states, my grandfather, reg'lar every Saturday
mornin', rides down to the Center, four miles below our house, an'
begins to crook his elbow, keepin' no accounts an' permittin' no
compunctions. This, if the old gent is feelin' fit an' likely, keeps
up about six hours' at which epock, my grandfather is beginnin' to
feel like his laigs is a burden an' walkin' a lost art. That's where
the pop'lace gets action. The onlookers, when they notes how my
ancestor's laigs that a-way is attemptin' to assoome the soopreme
direction of affairs, sort o' c'llects him an' puts him in the
saddle. Settin' thar on his hoss, my grandfather is all right. His
center of grav'ty is shifted an' located more to his advantage.
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