He sent me a
message, to say he died a happy man. The poor fellow--happy fellow, would
be a better term--sent back all the books he had borrowed; and it will
serve to give some idea of the condition we were in, in a temporal sense,
if I add, that he also sent me a few coppers, in order that they might
contribute to the comfort of his countrymen.
Chapter XIX.
About three months after the death of Chapman, I was well enough to quit
the hospital. I could walk, with the aid of crutches, but had no hope of
ever being a sound man again. Of course, I had an anxious desire to get
home; for all my resolutions, misanthropical feelings, and resentments,
had vanished in the moral change I had undergone. My health, as a whole,
was now good. Temperance, abstinence, and a happy frame of mind, had
proved excellent doctors; and, although I had not, and never shall,
altogether, recover from the effects of my fall, I had quite done with the
"horrors." The last fit of them I suffered was in the deep conviction I
felt concerning my sinful state. I knew nothing of Temperance
Societies--had never heard that such things existed, or, if I had, forgot
it as soon as heard; and yet, unknown to myself, had joined the most
effective and most permanent of all these bodies. Since my fall, I have
not tasted spirituous liquors, except as medicine, and in very small
quantities, nor do I now feel the least desire to drink.
Pages:
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351