O appetite, cold, cruel,
heartless, accursed, consuming, devouring appetite! No other malady like
thee ever afflicted man. Would that I could paint thee, in all thy accursed
hideousness, in letters of unfading fire, and write them in the vaulted
firmament to flame forth to all generations to come their eternal warning.
CHAPTER VI.
Law Practice at Rushville--Bright prospects--The blight--From bad to
worse--My mother's death--My solemn promise to her--"Broken, oh,
God!"--Reflection--My remorse--The memory of my mother--A young man's
duty--Blessed are the pure in heart--The grave--Young man, murder not your
mother--Rum--A knife which is never red with blood, but which has severed
souls and stabbed thousands to death--The desolation and death which are in
alcohol.
My next move was to Rushville, where I opened an office and commenced
practicing law. For a time I kept sober, and was so successful in my
profession that from the very beginning I more than made my expenses. In
fact my prospects for a brilliant career as a lawyer seemed most
flattering. The predictions were many that an uncommon future lay before
me, but, alas, I could stand prosperity no better than adversity.
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