society which drives him forth a depraved and friendless creature? or with himself no longer accountable for his acts?  O the agony of feeling that on the whole face of the earth there is not a face that will look upon you in kindness, nor a heart that will throb with compassion at sight of your misery!  I know what this agony is, for in my darkest hours I have looked for pity and strained my ears to catch the tones of a kindly voice in vain.  But let me hasten to say, lest I be misunderstood, that since I commenced to lecture, I have had the support and active help of thousands of the very best men and women in the land.  I doubt that there was ever a man in calamity trying to escape from terrors worse than those of death who had more aid than has been extended to me.  Could prayers and tears lift one out of misfortune and wretchedness I would long ago have stood above all the tribulations of my life.  I desire to have every man and woman that has bestowed kindness on me, if only a word or look, know that I remember such kindness, and that I long to prove that it was not thrown away.  Every day there rises before me numberless faces I have met from time to time, each beautiful with the love, sympathy, and pity which elevates the human into the divine.  There are others, I regret to say, that pass before me with dark looks and scowls.  I know them well, for they have sought to discourage and drag me down.  Their tongues have been quick to condemn and free to vilify me.  I seek no revenge on them.  I forgive as wholly and freely as I hope to be forgiven.  May God soften their tiger hearts and melt their hyena souls.

CHAPTER IX.

The ever-recurring spell—­Writing in the sand—­Hartford City—­In the ditch—­Extricated—­Fairly started—­A telegram—­My brother’s death—­Sober—­A long night—­Ride home—­Palpitation of the heart—­Bluffton—­The inevitable—­Delirium again—­No friends, money, nor clothes—­One hundred miles from home—­I take a walk—­Clinton county—­Engage to teach a school—­The lobbies of hell—­Arrested—­Flight to the country—­Open school—­A failure—­Return home—­The beginning of a terrible experience—­Two months of uninterrupted drinking—­Coatless, hatless, and bootless—­The “Blue Goose”—­The tremens—­Inflammatory rheumatism—­The torments of the damned—­Walking on crutches—­Drive to Rushville—­Another drunk—­Pawn my clothes—­At Indianapolis—­A cold bath—­The consequence—­Teaching school—­Satisfaction given—­The kindness of Daniel Baker and his wife—­A paying practice at law.

I was at all times unhappy, and hence I was always restless and discontented.  I was continually striving for something that would at least give me contentment, but before I could establish myself in any thing the ever-recurring spell would seize me, and whatever confidence I had succeeded in gaining was swept away.  I wrote in sand, and the incoming tide with a single dash annihilated the characters.