These things had the effect on me that this account will probably have on the reader—­they annoyed me exceedingly at times.  At times the falsehoods were more malicious still, causing me many sleepless hours.  At the end of ten months of complete sobriety, during which I never tasted any stimulant—­ten months of constant struggle and determined effort—­I fell.  Alas, that I am compelled to write the sad words!  I had broken down my strength; my mental and physical energies gave way, and my appetite had wrapped itself as a flaming fire about me, consuming me in its heat.  I commenced drinking at Charlottsville, Henry county, and went from there to Knightstown on a Saturday evening.  On the following Monday I went to Indianapolis drunk, and there got “dead drunk.”  My friends in Rushville, hearing of my misfortune, came after me and took me with them to that place, where I remained utterly oblivious until the next Sunday, when, by some means—­I have no knowledge how—­I got on an early train that was passing through Rushville, and went as far as Columbus, where I got off, and soon succeeded in getting a quart of liquor.  Between the hour of my arrival at Columbus and night I drank three bottles of whisky.

That night I returned to Rushville, and while mad with liquor, made an attempt on my life by cutting my throat.  Well for me that my knife was dull and did not penetrate to the jugular artery.  The wound self-inflicted was an ugly but not dangerous one.  I kept on drinking for a week or more, until I found that it was utterly out of my power to resist drinking so long as I remained in a place where I could see, or buy, or beg whisky.  I finally went to the sheriff and asked him to lock me up in jail, which I finally persuaded him to do.  Once in jail I tried in vain to get more liquor.  I remained there until the fierce fires of my appetite smouldered once more, and then I was released.  I lay in bed sick several days at this time, sick in mind, soul, and body.  I felt that for me there was nothing left.  I had descended to the lowest depths.  I was forever ruined and undone.  Many who had said that I would not or could not stop drinking seemed to be delighted over my terrible misfortune.  The smile with which they would say, “I told you so!” was devilish and fiendish.  But many friends gathered about me and cheered me with hope that by renewed effort I might rise again.  Well and truly did a great English poet, Campbell, I believe, say:—­

    “Hope springs eternal in the human heart.”

I determined once more that I would not give up, I would fight my tireless enemy while a breath of life or an atom of reason remained in my being.