I closed my eyes, and relaxed, and a great peace settled upon me.




MY BATTLE WITH DRINK


I could tell my story in two words--the two words "I drank." But I was
not always a drinker. This is the story of my downfall--and of my
rise--for through the influence of a good woman, I have, thank Heaven,
risen from the depths.

The thing stole upon me gradually, as it does upon so many young men.
As a boy, I remember taking a glass of root beer, but it did not grip
me then. I can recall that I even disliked the taste. I was a young
man before temptation really came upon me. My downfall began when I
joined the Yonkers Shorthand and Typewriting College.

It was then that I first made acquaintance with the awful power of
ridicule. They were a hard-living set at college--reckless youths.
They frequented movie palaces. They thought nothing of winding up an
evening with a couple of egg-phosphates and a chocolate fudge. They
laughed at me when I refused to join them. I was only twenty. My
character was undeveloped. I could not endure their scorn. The next
time I was offered a drink I accepted. They were pleased, I remember.
They called me "Good old Plum!" and a good sport and other
complimentary names. I was intoxicated with sudden popularity.

How vividly I can recall that day! The shining counter, the placards