Temperance > Autobiography and personal recollections of John B. Gough

MY WIFE’S DEATH.
ous reign, and with horror I anticipated its approach.
My stock of clothing was failing fast. I had no flannels,
or woollen socks, no extra coats, and no means of procur¬
ing those absolutely necessary preservatives against the
severities of an American winter. I had no hope of ever
becoming a respectable man again,—not the slightest,—
for it appeared to me that every chance of restoration to
decent society, and of reformation, was gone for ever. I
wished, and fully expected, soon to die. Hope had aban¬
doned me here; and beyond the grave nothing appeared
calculated to cheer my desponding spirit. Ob, what a
deep and stinging sense T had of my own degraded posi¬
tion ! for my feelings were keenly alive to the ridicule and
contempt which never ceased to be heaped on me. Uttei ly
wretched and abandoned, I have stood by the railway
track with a vague wish to lie across it, drink myself into
oblivion, and let the cars go over me! Once I stood by
the rails, with a bottle of laudanum clattering against my
lips, and had nearly been a suicide; but the mercy of God
interposed, and I dashed the poison on the groun', and
escaped the sin of self-murder. I was but a young man,
yet steeped to the lips in poverty, degradation, and misery;
with energies which, had they been rightly directed,
might have enabled me to surmount difficulty and com¬
mand respect.
I had long since ceased to correspond with my sister,
and so careless had I become, that I never thought of
communicating again with the only relative I had remain¬
ing. Frequently was I tempted to take my life; and yet
I clung instinctively to existence. Sleep was often a
stranger to my eyelids, and many a night would I spend
in the open air, sometimes in a miserable state of inebria¬
tion, and at other times in a half-sober condition. All
this time I often resolved that I would drink no more,—