The vilest and most deadly poison could
scarcely have been worse. Perhaps I was to blame--at least I have blamed
myself--for not imploring the doctor in the name of everything holy not to
prescribe any medicine containing a drop of intoxicating liquor. But I was
sick and weak, and my appetite rose in its strength at mention of the word
brandy, and when I would have spoken it palsied my tongue. I could not
resist. The inevitable was upon me.
Down, down, down I went, lower and ever lower. Down, into the darkness of
desperation!--down, into the gulf of ruin!--down, where Shame, and Sin, and
Misery cry to fallen souls--"Stay! abide with us!" I felt now that all I
had gained was lost, and that there was nothing more for me to hope for.
The destroying devil had swept away everything. I was no longer a man.
Behold me cowering before my race and begging the pitiful sum of ten cents
with which to buy one more drink--begging for it, moreover, as something
far more precious than life. I resorted then, as many times since, to every
means in order to get that which would, and yet would not, satisfy my
insatiate thirst.
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