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Millionaires will stop at them instead of going to the Plaza. Are you asleep, Comrade Jackson?" "Um-m," said Mike. "That is excellent. You could not be better employed. Keep listening. Comrade Windsor also stated as indeed did the sporting papers that Comrade Brady put it all over friend Eddie Wood, administering the sleep-producer in the eighth round.
"I admit that the old Berserk blood of the Smiths boiled at that juncture. I picked up a sleep-producer from the floor, as Comrade Brady would say, and handed it to the big-stick merchant. He went down like a sack of coal over the bookcase, and at that moment I rather fancy the other gentleman must have got busy with his club.
It should be remembered that atropin is not a sleep-producer; it may stimulate the cerebrum. Therefore at night it might well be combined with a possible necessary hypodermic injection of morphin. The question of the advisability of strychnin is a constant subject for discussion. Strychnin is overused in the cases of most patients who are seriously ill.
And then the gong goes, and I says to myself how I has one friend, my old mother down in Illinois, and I goes in and mixes it, and then I seen Benson losing his goat, so I gives him a half-scissor hook, and in the next round I picks up a sleep-producer from the floor and hands it to him, and he takes the count. That is what the public wants. Crisp, lucid, and to the point.
Time spent in sound, refreshing sleep, is time well spent. If you cannot sleep well, it is a signal that something is wrong with your health, or your habits a danger signal of great importance, which should be attended to at once. The best and only safe sleep-producer is exercise in the open air. The Muscles and Bones Have Few Diseases.
If I hadn't repented, and thought it was rather rough on Elizabeth not to do a little thing like that for her, and come down here to do it after all, you wouldn't have stopped that sleep-producer with your chin. I'm sorry." "Me, too," I said, giving my head another shake to make certain it was still on. "Are you feeling better now?" "Better than I was. But that's not saying much."
And then the gong goes, and I says to myself how I has one friend, my poor old mother way out in Wyoming, and I goes in and mixes it, and then I seen Benson losing his goat, so I ups with an awful half-scissor hook to the plexus, and in the next round I seen Benson has a chunk of yellow, and I gets in with a hay-maker and I picks up another sleep-producer from the floor and hands it him, and he takes the count all right. . . Crisp, lucid, and to the point.
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