The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-12-13
THE GOOD WIFE KNEW 1T.
Experience of Drunkard Who Broke tn
Habit that Enslaved Him.

Habit that Enslaved Him.
Angelica IN. W Letter.
There is a retired cobbler living in this place
who deserves the respect Of his countrymen for
moral courage
Ten years ago he was. and had been for a long
time, confirmed inebriate-not a periodical
spreer but genuine soaker, warranted not to
draw sober breath from sun to sun. Occasion
ally the fumes of the whisky with which he
piled himself would clear away from his be-
logged brain. and at such times his mental equi-
librium would wrestle with the problem of total
or even partial abstinence, to be utterly wrecked
at the sight of his haunts or the first faint call
of his system for the stimulant which long use
had rendered peremptory.
One day, however, u halt was called, and this
is the way he tells of it,
IL was on my way to the barn when 1 saw a
small snake in my path. l kicked it with my
boot, and it turned to bit of crooked twig,
which snapped in my hand and threw away I
thought nothing more of the matter until 1
reached the barn, when, directly before me- a
second snake twisted across the boards. With a
quick spring seized it, and it proved to be- a
whip-lash. A sudden horrible fear made me
faint and weak. l sat down on the lower rung
of the ladder leading to the loft and wiped the
cold sweat from my forehead.
I" Snakes, by Jericho! l exclaimed. That
means business
that soon began slowly to wriggle and curve
With bursting eyeballs and all the strength of
mind possessed forced that corn stalk back
from the animal to the vegetable kingdom and
then staggered feebly out into the open air. 1
leaned against fence. and, for fear I should see
more of those horrible twisting things, l chung to
post and closed my eyes.
'''Time is called, Jim,' 1 said to myself,
whisky and you part company to-day and So
berer than had been for many months, though
with no more strength than a baby, managed
to get back to the house.
There was fight. though l didn't tell my
wife, for had made good many promises that
hadn't held water, and | thought I'd 60 it alone
for while. got up in the morning, after ter
rible night. with the. thirst of chased fox upon
me. Water wouldn't quench it, and tried milk
l crept into the milk room. slipped straw into
the edge of q cream covered pan, and sucked out
the milk until only the cream was left. lowered
smooth and unbroken to the bottom. Then l
tackled another and another, until the fierce
craving was somewhat dulled. 1t was house
hold mystery what became of the milk. No cat
could lap it, my wife said, and leave the sides
and cream untouched, and where did it goa
II let them talk, for the struggle was too sore
and fearful to be spoken of, and went on drink
ing the milk
1.-The road from my house to my shop lay by
the GROCERY. When left my gate in the morn
ing took the road, and on dead run, as if pur-
sued. | made the distance. l ran hard all the
way home to dinner. and back after that meal,
never. in fact. trusting myself to walk or even
take to the sidewalk, for months. The cure was
slow. 1 keep all the brakes hard set yet. A sin
gle glass of hard cider would undo the work of
all these years. but you bet that glass doesn't
touch my lips while the memory of those little,
crawling, black reptiles stays with me-"
And did your wife finally learn what became
of the milkl' he was asked.
EYES," and his voice broke II told her on her
deathbed.
"Jim DEAR, she said, when had finished
with her hand clasped in mine, Jim, l knew it
all the time.'"