The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1905-07-30

Theological College of ST Georges,
was much addicted to opium. The
habit grew upon him, as | understand,
from some foolish freak when he was
at college; for having read De Quin-
cey's description of his dreams, and
sensations, he had drenched his to-
bacco with laudanum in an attempt to
produce the same effects. He found,
as so many more have done, that the
practice is easier to attain than to
get rid of, and for many years he con-
tinued to be slave to the drug. an
object of mingled horror and pity TO
his friends and relatives. l can set
him now, with yellow, pasty face,
dropping lids, and pin-point pupils. ali
huddled in a chair, the wreck and
ruin of a noble man.
One night-it was in June, So
there came a ring to my bell, about
the hour when a man gives his hrSt
yawn Ind glances at the clock. L
sat up in my chair, and my wife laid
her needle-work down in her lap and
made a little face of disappointment.
"a patient!' said she. you'll have
to go out
| eroaned, for l was newly come
back from weary day.
We heard the door open, few hur~
ried words, and then quick steps upon
the linoleum. Our own door flew open,
stuff, with a black veil. entered the
room.
You will excuse my calling so late,
she began, and then. suddenly losing
her self-control, she ran forward
threw her arms about my wife'S neck,
and sobbed upon her shoulder: "Oh,
I'm in such trouble!" she cried; Il
do so want a little help"
why" said my wife, pulling up
har x,oiI iS a WhitnpV- How
YOU startled Eec, Kate! l had not an
idea who you were when you came
in"
81 didn't know what to do so
came straight to YOU" That was al
ways the way. Folk who were in grief
came to my wife like birds to light
house.
1T was very sweet of you to come
Now, you must have some wine and
water, and sit here comfortably and
tell us all about it. Or should you
rather that / sent James off to bed p
"Oh. no, no! / want the Doctors
advice and help, too. It's about lsa.
He has not been home for two days
l am so frightened about him!''
1t was not the first time that she
had spoken to us of her husbands
trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife
as an old friend and school compan-
ion. We soothed and comforted her
by such words as we could find. Did
she know where. her husband was2
Was it possible that we could bring
him back to her?
1t seemed that it was. She had the
surest information that of late he had,
when the lit was on him, made use of
an opium den in the farthest east of
the city. Hitherto his orgies had al
ways been confined to one day, and
he had come back, twitching and shat
tered, in the evening. But now the
spell had been upon him eight-and-
forty hours, and he lay there, doubt
less among the dregs of the docks,
breathing IN the poison or sleeping Off
the effects. There he was to be found,
she WAS sure of it, at the Bar of
Gold" in Upper Swandam Lane. Rut
what was she to do? How could she,
young and timid woman, make her
way into such a place, and pluck her
husband out from among the ruffians
who surrounded him?
There was the case, and of course
there was but one way out of it. Might
l not escort her to this place? And
then as a second thought, why
should she come at all? | was ISa
Whitneys medical adviser. and as such
had influence over him. | could
manage it better if l were alone. l
promised her on my word that
would send him home in a cab within
two hours if he were indeed at the
address which she had given me. And
so in ten minutes I had left my arm
chair and CHERRY sitting room behind
me, and was speeding eastward in
hansome on a strange errand as it
seemed to me at the time, thplgh the
future only could show how strange 1t
was to be.
But there was no great difficulty i'll
lrrGr fYI,,n In
per Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurk-
ing behind the high wharves which
line the north side of the river to the
west of London bridge. Between a
slop-shop and a gin-shop, approach
ed by steep flight of steps leading
down to a black gap like the mouth
of a cave, / found the den of which L
was in search. Ordering my cab to
wait l passed down the steps, worn
hollow in the centre by the ceaselesS
tread of drunken feet, and by the
light of a Pickering oil-lamp above
the door 1 found the latch, and made
my way into a long, low room, thick
and heavy with the brown opium
smoke, and terraced with wooden
berths, like the forecastle of an emil
grant ship.
Through the gloom one could dim
ly catch a glimpse of bodies lying IN
strange fantastic poses, bowed snoul
ders. bent knees, heads thrown back
and chins pointing upward, with here
and there dark. lack-lustre eye turn
ed upon the newcomer. Out of the
black shadows there glimmered little
red circles of light now bright, now
faint, as the burning poison waxed
or waned in the bowls of the metal
pipes. The most lay silent, but some
muttered to themselves, and others
talked together in a strang, low. mon
notonous voice, their conversation com
ing in gushes, and then suddenly tail
ing off into silence, each mumbling
out his own thoughts, and paying lit
tie heed to the words of his neighbor.
At the farther end was a small brazier
of burning charcoal, beside which on
a three legged wooden stool there
sat a tall. thin old man, with his jaw
resting upon his two fists, and his ell
bows upon his knees, starting into
the fire.
AS / entered, a sallow Malay at
tendant had hurried UP with a pipe