erest in the writer, had said to him,
"You had better go to the Washingtonian Home." What followed is thus
related:

HOW I WAS TREATED IN THE HOME.

"I looked at her in surprise. Send me to a reformatory? I told her that
I did not think that I was sunk so low, or bound so fast in the coils of
the 'worm of the still,' that it was necessary for me, a young man not
yet entered into the prime of manhood, to be confined in a place
designed for the cure of habitual drunkards. I had heard vague stories,
but nothing definite concerning the Home, and thought that the question
was an insult, but I did not reply to the question. All that night my
thoughts would revert to the above question. My life past since I had
become a devotee of the 'demon of strong drink,' passed in review before
my mind. What had I gained? How improved? What had I obtained by it? And
the answer was nothing. Then I asked myself, What had I lost by it? And
the answer came to me with crushing force, everything that maketh life
desirable. Starting out young in years into the busy highways of the
world, with a good fortune, bright prospects and a host of friends to
aid and cheer me on, I had lost ALL in my love for strong drink, and at
times I thought and felt that I was a modern Ishmael.

"The lady, the next morning, again returned to the attack, and then, not
thinking it an insult, but a benefit, to be conferred on me, I yielded a
willing acquiescence. That same evening, with a slow step and aching
head, I walked up Madison Street towards the Washingtonian Home, with
thoughts that I would be considered by the officers of the institution
as a sort of a felon, or, if not that, at least something very near akin
to the brute, and it was with a sinking heart that I pushed open the
main door and ascended the broad, easy stairs to the office. I asked if
the superintendent was in, and the gentlemanly clerk at the desk told me
that he was, and would be down immediately, meanwhile telling me to be
seated. After the lapse of a few minutes, the superintendent, Mr.
Wilkins, came into the office, his countenance beaming with benevolence.
He took the card that I had brought with me, read it, and, turning round
to where I sat, with a genial smile lighting up his countenance, with
outstretched hand, greeted me most kindly and introduced me to the
gentlemen present. I was dumbfounded, and it was with great difficulty
that I restrained myself from shedding tears. It was the