Diary of a Drug Fiend

The Voice of Virtue 287 it was you who were chiefly responsible for putting through the Diabolical Dope Act.” ‘“‘ Ignorance, pure ignorance, my dear Sir Peter,” he cried. ‘‘ We live and lear, we live and learn. Used in moderation, we find it to be positively wholesome. A stimulant no doubt, you will say. And all stimulants may undoubtedly be dangerous. But I’m afraid people will have them, and surely the wisest course is to see that what they have is as little deleterious as pos- sible.” While he spoke he kept on nervously jerking the bottle in my direction as if afraid to put it into my hands outright. And then I realised how very badly I wanted it. “ Well, certainly, Mr. Platt,”’ I replied, entering into the spirit of the thing, ‘‘ I shall be only too glad to give you my opinion for what it may be worth.” I could not conceal the feverish eagerness with which I shook out a dose. My pretence at sniffing with a critical air was ludicrously feeble. A child could have seen that I was shaken, body and soul, by the feverish lust to get it into my system after so long an abstinence. Time had purged my system of the poison. It found the house “empty and swept and garnished”; and seven devils entered into me instead of the ejected one. My malaise passed like a cloud swept by the wind from the face of the sun. I became physically buoyant as I had not been for months. I was filled with superb self-confidence. My hesitation vanished. I played the ame with all the sublime intoxication of recovered ivinity. “I must admit that it seems to me excellent,” I pronounced with lofty calm, though my blood was singing in my ear. I handed back the bottle. “ Keep it, I beg of you, my dear Sir Peter,”’ protested Platt enthusiastically. ‘‘One never knows when a little household medicine may not come in handy.” Something set me off into roars of internal laughter.