During one of my uneasy wanderings I went to Hartford City, Indiana.  Hartford “City,” like all other cities In the land, has a full supply of saloons.  With a view of advertising myself I had my friends announce on the second day after my arrival that I would deliver a political speech.  This speech was listened to by an immense crowd, and heartily praised by the party whose principles I advocated.  I was puffed up with the enthusiasm of the people, and repaired with some of the local leaders to a saloon to take a drink in honor of the occasion.  The drink taken by me as usual wrought havoc.  I wanted more, as I always do when I take one drink, and I got more.  I got more than enough, too, as I always do.  On the way home with a gentleman whom I knew, I fell into a ditch, but was extricated with difficulty, and finally carried to the house of a friend.  My clothes were wet and covered with mud.  After sleeping awhile I got up and stole from the house very much as a thief would have sneaked away.  I was fairly started on another spree, and for three weeks I drank heavily and constantly.  Sometime during the third week of my debauch I received a telegram stating that my brother was dead.  The suddenness and terrible nature of the news caused me to become sober at once.  It was just at twilight when I received the telegram, and there was no train until nine o’clock the next morning.  That night seemed like an age to me.  I never closed my eyes in sleep, but lay in my bed weak and terror-stricken, waiting for the morning.  It came at last, for the longest night will end in day.  I got on the train and sat down by a window.  I was so weak and nervous that I could not hold a cup in my hand.  But I wanted no more liquor.  The terrible news of the previous day had frightened away all desire for drink.  I had not ridden far when I was seized with palpitation of the heart.  The sudden cessation from all stimulants had left my system in a condition to resist nothing, and when my heart lost its regular action, the chances were that I could not survive.  All day I drew my breath with painful difficulty, and thought that each respiration would be the last.  I raised the car window and put out my head so that the rushing air would strike my face, and this revived me.  When I got home my brother was buried.  I had left him a few days before in good health and proud in his strength.  I returned to find him hidden forever from my sight by the remorseless grave.  What I felt and suffered no one knew, nor can ever know.  Every night for weeks I could see my brother in life, but the cold reality of death came back to me with the light of day.  I was stunned and almost crazed by the blow, and yet there were not wanting persons who, incapable of a deep pang of sorrow, said that I did not care.  Could they have been made to suffer for one night the agony which I endured for weeks they would learn to feel for the miseries of others, and at the same time have a knowledge of what sufferings the human heart is capable.