My clothes were wet and covered
with mud. After sleeping awhile I got up and stole from the house very much
as a thief would have sneaked away. I was fairly started on another spree,
and for three weeks I drank heavily and constantly. Sometime during the
third week of my debauch I received a telegram stating that my brother was
dead. The suddenness and terrible nature of the news caused me to become
sober at once. It was just at twilight when I received the telegram, and
there was no train until nine o'clock the next morning. That night seemed
like an age to me. I never closed my eyes in sleep, but lay in my bed weak
and terror-stricken, waiting for the morning. It came at last, for the
longest night will end in day. I got on the train and sat down by a window.
I was so weak and nervous that I could not hold a cup in my hand. But I
wanted no more liquor. The terrible news of the previous day had frightened
away all desire for drink. I had not ridden far when I was seized with
palpitation of the heart. The sudden cessation from all stimulants had left
my system in a condition to resist nothing, and when my heart lost its
regular action, the chances were that I could not survive.
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