said, gravely. "I wouldn't hurt a fly; I've got a new 'art."

"A new wot?" inquired his friend, staring.

"A new 'art," repeated the other. "I've given up fighting and swearing,
and drinking too much. I'm going to lead a new life and do all the good
I can; I'm going--"

"Glory! Glory!" ejaculated a long, thin youth, and, making a dash for
the door, disappeared.

"He'll know me better in time," said Mr. Billing. "Why, I wouldn't hurt
a fly. I want to do good to people; not to hurt 'em. I'll have a pint,"
he added, turning to the bar.

"Not here you won't," said the landlord, eyeing him coldly.

"Why not?" demanded the astonished Mr. Billing.

"You've had all you ought to have already," was the reply. "And there's
one thing I'll swear to--you ain't had it 'ere."

"I haven't 'ad a drop pass my lips began the outraged Mr. Billing.

"Yes, I know," said the other, wearily, as he shifted one or two glasses
and wiped the counter; "I've heard it all before, over and over again.
Mind you, I've been in this business thirty years, and if I don't know
when a man's had his whack, and a drop more, nobody does. You get off
'ome and ask your missis to make you a nice cup o' good strong tea, and
then get up to bed and sleep it off."