remarked that they had no inebriating effect upon him. This nervous
strength by degrees yielded to the power of alcohol, and as he advanced
in life it was apparent the poison was doing its work.

Now it was that he found it necessary, in order to stimulate his genius
to its wonted activity and vigor, on occasions demanding all his
powers, to resort to artificial stimulants. His friends urged upon him
temperance, to forbear altogether, to visit his mother and friends in
Maine, recreate amidst the scenes of his childhood, and to do so in
company with his wife and his lovely children, for they were all a
parent could wish them to be. He promised to do so. Sad memory brings
up our last meeting, and when the subject of his intemperance was the
theme of our parting conversation. We stood together upon the portico
of the St. Charles Hotel; he was preparing to leave for Maine; I was
leaving for my home in the country.

"You still keep the old cane," he said, taking from my hand his gift
many years before.

"I shall do so, Prentiss, while I live."

He continued to view the head, upon which our names were engraved, and
a melancholy shade gathered upon his features. "Oh, were I," said he,
"to-day, what I was the day I gave you this!" and he paused many
minutes; still the shade darkened, and his voice trembled as he
proceeded: "We were both young then, and how light our hearts were! We
have gathered about us household gods, and we worship them; how sad to
think we shall have to leave them! You married long before I did. Your
children will grow up while yet you live; I shall never see mine other
than children."

"Say not so, Prentiss. You are yet young. You have but one thing to do,
and you will live to see those boys men; and what may you not expect of
them, with such a mother to aid you in rearing them!"

"I know what you mean, and I know what I will; but, like Laocoon in the
folds of the snake, the serpent of habit coils around me, and I fear
its strength is too powerful for mine. Perhaps, had my angel of to-day
been my angel when first a man, I had never wooed the scorpion which is
stinging me to death; but all I can do I will. This is all I can
promise. Keep this stick to remember me: it will support you when
tottering with the weight of years, and with strength will endure. When
age has done her work, and you are in the grave, give it to your son to
remember us both. Farewell."

With a clasp of the hand we parted, neve