supposed to have committed suicide; but I had only just written down the date when I heard a ring, and directly after there was a tap at the door, and our servant ushered in a patient.
I motioned him to a seat, and in the rapid look which a doctor gives to his visitors, formed my own impressions as to his ailments, the gorged veins of the eyes, the flushed face, the pimpled and reddened nose, telling their own tale—a story confirmed by the trembling of his hands as he removed his gloves.
"Morning, doctor," he said; "I'm very bad. I want you to overhaul me, and see if you can set me right. Can't eat—no appetite—no digestion; I'm a prey to the horrors—my nerves are absolutely shattered, and life has become such a burden that if I don't soon mend I know I shall make an end of myself. I'm afraid I shall," he continued, getting more and more excited in his speech, and gesticulating as I sat back scanning him intently, and seeing in him the very object for my experiment if I cared to administer my remedy. But honour held me back, and I vowed I would resist the temptation, come what might.
"Be calm," I said, quietly, "and tell me}}" but before I could get any farther, he burst out—
"Calm? Who is to be calm, suffering as I do! Man, I am haunted. Do what I will, go where I will, I am haunted."
"As all men are," I said quietly, "who persist in flying to the bottle."
"No," he cried fiercely, "not as they are. Do you think I am one of the idiots who see snakes and imps and all kinds of imaginary creatures dancing before their eyes? I am haunted, I tell you, and it is by a man I know well—I must tell you now—I can't keep it back. We were friends out in Australia—years ago."
"Australia, eh?" I cried.
"Yes. Do you know Australia?" he said wonderingly.
"I passed my boyhood and my early manhood there," I replied quietly. "I came to England to finish my studies, and settled down. So you are haunted, eh?"
"Haunted! Did I say haunted?" he cried uneasily. "Oh, no: a mere fancy," and he laughed unpleasantly.
"Drink! You think I drink?"
"Of course," I said. "My dear sir, as a medical man I must be plain with you. I will give you the best advice, and will help you in any way I can; but the cure for your complaint is in your own hands. Leave all liquors alone, and you will mend fast. Go on as you are now, drinking heavily, and in six months you will be in your grave."
He started violently, and grasped the elbows of the chair as he leaned forward, gazing wildly in my face.
"Drink!" he gasped; "you think I drink—am a drunkard?"
"I know you drink, sir," I replied quietly. "It is plainly written in your face, and in your trembling hands. I do not say you are a drunkard. Possibly you are never drunk, but you are constantly flying to stimulants, and they are wrecking you hopelessly."
"Don't say hopelessly, doctor," he panted. "I will leave off—I will, indeed, for"—he shuddered—"I dare not die. It is too horrible. But I've been obliged to fly to the brandy to keep myself up.
