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Isa Whitney, brother of the late Elias Whitney, D.D., Principal

of the Theological College of St. George's, was much addicted to

opium. The habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some

foolish freak when he was at college; for having read De

Quincey's description of his dreams and sensations, he had

drenched his tobacco with laudanum in an attempt to produce the

same effects. He found, as so many more have done, that the

practice is easier to attain than to get rid of, and for many

years he continued to be a slave to the drug, an object of

mingled horror and pity to his friends and relatives. I can see

him now, with yellow, pasty face, drooping lids, and pin-point

pupils, all huddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of a noble

man.

One night-it was in June, '89-there came a ring to my bell, about

the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the

clock. I sat up in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work

down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment.