a short distance, when there was no longer any enduring of
the torture. I turned back and went into another drug store, and told the
proprietor that I was sick, and asked him for whisky with some kind of
medicine in it. The man who gave it was not to blame, for he knew nothing
about me, nor the fiendish thirst with which I was possessed; and while he
was not more than a minute getting the liquor for me, it seemed an age, and
when I took the glass, I read "death" in it just as plainly as ever "death"
was written upon the field of battle. I hesitated a moment, while something
whispered, "Death!" I struggled, but could not let go of the glass. I
felt the hot, scalding tears come in my eyes. I thought if I could only
die--just drop dead; but I could not, yet I felt that I was dying ten
thousand deaths all the time! I lifted the glass and drank death and
damnation! I drank the red blood of butchery and the fiery beverage of
hell! It glowed like hot lava in my blood, and burned upon my tongue's end.
A smouldering fire was kindled. A wild glow shot through every vein, and
within my stomach the demon was aroused to his strength. I had now but one
thought, but one burning desire that was consuming me--that was for more
drink! It crept to my fingers' ends, and out in a burning flush upon my
cheek. Drink!--DRINK! I would have had it then if I had been compelled to
go to hell for it! But I got it just one step this side the regions of the
damned. I went to a saloon and commenced to pour it down, and continued
until I was crazed. All power over my appetite was gone; I was oblivious to
everything around me. I took the train for Cincinnati. I have a dim,
shuddering remembrance of some parties at the depot trying to keep me from
taking the cars. I don't know who they were, or what they said. I got to
the city that night, and staid at the Galt House. I have no remembrance of
anything from the time I left Richmond until I awoke next day about ten
o'clock, with an aching head, swollen tongue, burnt, black, parched lips,
and a thirst for whisky that was maddening. Death would have been kindness
compared to what I suffered that morning.

And here let me ask the reader to indulge me for a while, that I may
explain just the condition I was in, both physically and mentally. I know
just how much charity I am to expect and receive from the corrupt
wilderness of human society, for it is a rank and rotten soil, from which
every shrub draws poison a