. Platform echoes: or, Living truths for head and heart . lute revelry, clasp your burninghands and bitterly call yourself Fool! fool! and add: Imade a miserable fool ! myself last night, and now I am270 TERRIBLE CRAVING FOR LIQUOR. 271 {i f/i i, I ! suffering these unutterable torments! What a fool I am ! If the first glass brought at once the suffering of thereaction, and the excitement came the next morning, who would drink? If delirium tremenscame first, and the fun after, whowould drink ? My friend, it doesnot pay to begin. First, you tol-j erate the drink; then touch andtaste it; thenjes
. Platform echoes: or, Living truths for head and heart . lute revelry, clasp your burninghands and bitterly call yourself Fool! fool! and add: Imade a miserable fool ! myself last night, and now I am270 TERRIBLE CRAVING FOR LIQUOR. 271 {i f/i i, I ! suffering these unutterable torments! What a fool I am ! If the first glass brought at once the suffering of thereaction, and the excitement came the next morning, who would drink? If delirium tremenscame first, and the fun after, whowould drink ? My friend, it doesnot pay to begin. First, you tol-j erate the drink; then touch andtaste it; thenjest and laughat it; and thenrevel in may itcome to whenit becomesyour master ?A man will notthen drink forsociability andwith pleasantcompanions,but for the ex-citement ; notfor the plea-sure of drink,but to get solitude hewill gulp downglass after glassof anythingthat will gratify his morbid appetite, carrying liquor withhim in his pocket; getting up in the night and crawlinground in the dark to find it; and then sucking out of a. WHAT A FOOL I AM. 272 the <;ix FIEND. bottle anything that will stay this morbid craving. There is nooutbreak of convivial cheer now, no poetry, do wreath aroundthe goblet; but a mad furious instinct for solitary excess. A celebrated surgeon once said: I feel the most terribleand infernal craving that anyone out of hell can is not because I want to drink. I do not want to is because I want to feel drunk. I am miserable and gloomywithout knowing why. Everything seems going wrung, ishudder at times, shed tears, and tight against this , this terrible — this horrible desire to get drunk ! Look at the low grog-shops and drinking-houses, and seethe miserable victims of this damning vice. Tell them theyare drinking oil of vitriol, oil of turpentine, sulphuric acid,benzine, or any other acrid and poisonous compound; tellthem that the tap they drink from spurts corroding fire, andthey will still drink on; and
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjecttempera, bookyear1890
