“‘I won’t, I tell you!’ shouted he. And he started up, and left the room—walking rather unsteadily, for the liquor had got into his head. He was not so much used to it then, but after that he took to it kindly to solace his cares.
“He kept his oath about gambling (not a little to the surprise of us all), though Grimsby did his utmost to tempt him to break it, but now he had got hold of another habit that bothered him nearly as much, for he soon discovered that the demon of drink was as black as the demon of play, and nearly as hard to get rid of—especially as his kind friends did all they could to second the promptings of his own insatiable cravings.”
“Then, they were demons themselves,” cried I, unable to contain my indignation. “And you, Mr. Huntingdon, it seems, were the first to tempt him.”
“Well, what could we do?” replied he, deprecatingly.—“We meant it in kindness—we couldn’t bear to see the poor fellow so miserable:—and besides, he was such a damper upon us, sitting there silent and glum, when he was under the threefold influence—of the loss of his sweetheart, the loss of his fortune, and the reaction of the lost night’s debauch; whereas, when he had something in him, if he was not merry himself, he was an unfailing source of merriment to us. Even Grimsby could chuckle over his odd sayings: they delighted him far more than my merry jests, or Hattersley’s riotous mirth. But one evening, when we were sitting over our wine, after one of our club dinners, and all had been hearty together,—Lowborough giving us mad toasts, and hearing our wild songs, and bearing a hand in the applause, if he did not help us to sing them himself,—he suddenly relapsed into silence, sinking his head on his hand, and never lifting his glass to his lips;—but this was nothing new; so we let him alone, and went on with our jollification, till, suddenly raising his head, he interrupted us in the middle of a roar of laughter by exclaiming,—
“Gentlemen, where is all this to end?—Will you just tell me that now?—Where is it all to end?” He rose.
“‘A speech, a speech!’ shouted we. ‘Hear, hear! Lowborough’s going to give us a speech!’
“He waited calmly till the thunders of applause and jingling of glasses had ceased, and then proceeded,—‘It’s only this, gentlemen,—that I think we’d better go no further. We’d better stop while we can.’
“‘Just so!’ cried Hattersley—
‘Stop poor sinner, stop and think
Before you farther go,
No longer sport upon the brink
Of everlasting woe.’
“‘Exactly!’ replied his lordship, with the utmost gravity. ‘And if you choose to visit the bottomless pit, I won’t go with you—we must part company, for I swear I’ll not move another step towards it!—What’s this?’ he said, taking up his glass of wine.