The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1875-12-17
The Opium Death.

friend. The habit of opium eating is
said by physicians to be gaining ground
rapidly in this country among nearly all
classes, and its effect upon mind and
body becoming more and more generally
disastrous. If any reader of this hap
pens to be among those who are tamper-
ing with the drug, we trust the narra-
tive given below will act as an effeetuAI
warning.
I have a sad, strange story to tell.
Did I say "strange ?n Alas, fear it
will be but q recital of things familiar to
some of my readers; and it is in part for
those few, hoping that it may warn and
help, that tell it. But rather L write
to any who may be in danger of the
bondage, concerning which is this true
and mournful history, than for hope of
benefiting those already enslaved.
have many times felt almost per-
suaded to write of what has been hidden
away in my memory for years; but as
often have l shrunk from bringing forth
to the public gaze the sorrows, the
weakness, the struggles of one very dear
to me, although facts, places and persons
might be shrouded, as they will be, by
uCJlIlOuS udIu6S.
OF late, so many facts and statistics
have come to my notice of the alarming
prevalence of the evil of which 1 write
among-I will not say especidLLy-but
even among the more educated and re-
fined in both city and country life, that
l am constrained to break the long ST.
lence I have kept.
Says one writer: "Opium is a corrosion
and paralysis of all the noblest forms of
life. The man who voluntarily addicts
himself to it's use, would commit, in
cutting his throat, a suicide only swifter
and less ignoble. The habit is gaining
ground among our professional men, the
operatives in our mills, our weary sew
ing women, our disappointed wives, our
former liquor drinkers, our everyday
laborers; all our classes, from highest to
; lowest, are yearly increasing the con-
sumption of the drug. The terrible de-
mand made on modern brains, especially
in this country, by our feverish, COM
petative life, constitutes hourly tempta-
tions to its use as sedatiVe.
When lately read the testimony oi
an eminent physician-"I have known
of more deaths from the use of opium in
some of it's forms, than from all forms OF
alcoholic drinks"-I felt that might nc
longer stay from holding up what might
prove as beacon light to some whose
feet were turning aside from that tenn
| perance which is one of the fruits of the
Spirit of God, bringing them back to the
way of sober self-denial. For this
write, for this l earnestly pray.
: My first remembrances of Ellen Cor.
don picture her as a young, lovely
woman, refined, educated, and gifted
with no ordinary talent, possessing 6
rare dignity combined with sweet gra-
r ciOusness of manner that made her moi
/ only admired, but beloved by all who
knew her. In a beautiful home, sur
rounded by loving children, and tenderly
guarded and cared for by a devoted hus,
/ band, she had all that earth could be-
D stow of happiness.
: Nor did she rest in these things. Hel
loving, child-like spirit saw God in all
and well remember how felt much al
7 if | was listening to an angel when she
: talked of the words of loving Father
@ whether she recounted to me her i'm
pressions of Niagara, or traced His love
in the forming of a daisy, so clear wa:
I, her vision Of His power and love. I wa
2 much younger than she, yet she honoreC
= me with her love and friendship, ant
spoke to me without reserve-the more
j freely, she often said, because l was to-
i young to criticise her enthusiasms.
For some years we rarely met. Tri
4 ais in her family, my own marriag
and our separate places of abode, ren
dered personal intercourse well nigh i'm
: possible; and letter-writing, with ou
!, respective family cares, was difficult
matter, and became very infrequent
Yet the old love never died out.
: One evening, in the summer of 1S4-
t my husband said to me at the tea-table
< flames Matthews called at my offic
: to-day"
'Did he say anything of his siste
: Ellen ?" l enquired.
Eyes," was his reply; "Mrs. Gordon
q is in town, and is at his house, mucl
,, out of health. She is very desirous t
see you"
!, 81 shall not wait, assure you,"
said, eagerly. "Why not go thi
=, evening ?"
"James said that he thought sh
would rather see you alone, as she is un
y willing to see general company; and he
g best hours, that is, when she is mos
herself, are in the afternoon"
v 'Is she very ill, then, Paul ?p asked
a vague terror seizing me. what d
i you mean by saying most herself
vt Tell me all you know"
:, flames thought you ought to know
II before you saw her, that you might un
;, derstand, and not be too greatly shOcke
II by the change in her appearance. Mrs
n Gordon is victim to the terrible habi
d of opium-eating; dying from its effects
he says, very rapidly. You will, l i'm
agine, find her but a wreck of what sh
II once was, of the woman you so love
r, and admired"
IS "Loved and admired" The word
- sounded to me like death knell. Wa
>, this indeed thing of the past? Wa
d the Ellen Gordon of my youth no longe
1t anything but beautiful memory
> could not believe il; could not realiz
the meaning of my husbands word:
. They pierced my soul with anguish
b though they were spoken tenderly, a
n knowing the bitterness to me of thei
import. / had read the Confessions o
an Opium Eater" and had CLEANED som
parts of Coleridge's dark and sad his
tory; had read how this fearful habi
d had wasted his frame, poisoned all th
,e sources of enjoyment, dried up th
n fountains of natural affection, and fas
Y tened upon him load of mental agon
Ell that became daily more intolerablt
I but 1 had never seen its effects, anC
d therefore, only family realized then
b found it impossible to think of Ellie
Of Gordon as such one as De Quincy c
8. Coleridge.
,e The hours passed wearily enough ur
es til the time arrived indicated by NJ