He
usually went out in the morning with a flask of whiskey in his pocket,
and sat down to weep behind a ditch--where, however, after having
emptied his flask, he might be heard at a great distance, singing the
songs which Ellish in her life-time was accustomed to love. In fact, he
was generally pitied; his simplicity of character, and his benevolence
of heart, which was now exercised without fear of responsibility, made
him more a favorite than he ever had been. His former habits of industry
were thrown aside; as he said himself, he hadn't heart to work; his
farms were neglected, and but for his son-in-law, would have gone to
ruin. Peter himself was sensible of this.
"Take them," said he, "into your own hands, Denis; for me, I'm not able
to do anything more at them; she that kep me up is gone, an' I'm broken
down. Take them--take them into your own hands. Give me my bed, bit, an'
sup, an' that's all I Want."
Six months produced an incredible change in his appearance.
Intemperance, whilst it shattered his strong frame, kept him in frequent
exuberance of spirits; but the secret grief preyed on him within.
Artificial excitement kills, but it never cures; and Peter, in the midst
of his mirth and jollity, was wasting away into a shadow. His children,
seeing him go down the hill of life so rapidly, consulted among each
other on the best means of winning him back to sobriety.
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