The year 1867 passed with him amid depression, shame, and remorse. He
called on me perhaps a hundred times at my office, and seldom left
without referring in some way to what he considered his
degradation. He repeatedly inquired if I thought it of any use for him
to try going on any longer in his ministerial work. Once he came with
a brighter face than usual, saying he had concluded to try it one year
more, and if he could not succeed----. Then what? I inquired as he
paused. A dark cloud spreading over his brow was his only answer, and
he lapsed into despondency. This despondency appears to be the
legitimate effect of opium. This fact was strikingly manifest in the
case of Mr. Brush, for his natural disposition, from childhood up, had
been usually kind, cheerful, and good; nor had he any dyspeptic or
bilious tendencies to worry and sour him. Few men have ever been
physically so well organized, or socially and religiously so well
situated for the enjoyment of a prosperous and happy life.
He came to me, finally, on the first day of January, 1868, saying his
people had kindly granted him leave of absence for a few weeks, which
he would devote to the work of overcoming his enemy, if such a thing
were possible. He could not live in his bondage. His wretched life,
with its terrible end, was forever staring him in the face. He asked
me if I would receive him at my house, and take care of him during the
struggle, as I had once consented to do. I said I would if he would
consent to let the people know why he was there. He looked very sad
as he answered that it would not do. He must undertake the battle at
home. He then took from his pocket some papers of morphine, which he
had caused to be weighed in doses diminishing at the rate of half a
grain each, beginning with six grains for the first day, five and a
half for the next, and so on, down. This was a sudden falling off of
nearly two-thirds from his ordinary allowance. He gave me all but the
two largest powders, which he reserved for an absence of two days at
Columbus. He proposed going away for the purpose of coming home sick,
in which condition he well knew he should be at that time. I was to
call at his house on the evening of his return, to render such
assistance as his condition might demand.
I went at the time appointed and found him again shattered, trembling,
sweating, and hovering about the fire. He said he had slept none, was
suffering much, and that his knees especially were aching badly. He
called pleadingly for the amount of morphine prepared for that day, as
he had not taken it. It was given, and then he conversed freely for an
hour or so.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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