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Story
January 15, 1889
Santa Fe Daily New Mexican
Santa Fe., Santa Fe, Santa Fe County, New Mexico
What is this article about?
A destitute tramp in Washington approaches a club-man, recounting his failed job search, recent binge drinking, and impending delirium tremens. He seeks advice on spending his last quarter on a bed or whisky to avoid torment. The club-man, initially indifferent, gives him fifty cents.
Clipping
OCR Quality
65%
Fair
Full Text
| "Well, what is it?" the club-man asked, a shade of annoyance showing in his good-natured features. For, like most heavy diners, he disliked anything that savored of business after dinner. Besides, he thought the man but a beggar, and disliked his not approaching the matter directly. "I'll take but a minute of your time, sir, if you'll listen to me. I came to Washington two months ago to get a government position. As you see, I failed. For the last eight days up to last night I have been drunk. I have been a drinker all my life, but I never drank so much nor so steadily before. I woke up this morning with the sun shining in my face through the trees of a park. My clothes were pawned and replaced with these rags, my watch, money, everything gone for drink. "Did you ever have mania a potu? No; I can see that you haven't. Well, I have. Two hours ago I felt it coming on me. You can see," holding up a tremulous hand, "how unstrung my nerves are. I can almost see the devils now as they tighten their fingers on my throat. And the thirst—thirst that nothing but alcohol will quench. You cannot imagine what it is to feel yourself petrified, powerless, dead to everything but pain, while lizards, ants, toads, worms, snakes, everything slimy, are twisting, wriggling, squirming over you, gumming your eyes together, filling your ears with horrible sounds, while every joint in your body is racked and twisted until it seems ready to come apart. Your brain on fire, your throat parched and swollen, and the hot, fetid breath of devils in your face as they taunt you with great dragons of liquor, held just out of your reach. God, sir! This and a thousand times this I have felt, and feel coming ever more again. "I asked your advice. Well, I've got a quarter in my pocket. I can get a bed for a quarter, or I can get a pint of whisky that will keep me out of the reach of these devils to-night, until I can get to sleep. But where would I sleep? If I get a bed I can't sleep unless I have something to drink. You see why I asked your advice." When the tramp began his story the club-man wore a look of wearied indifference. But the tramp talked quickly and excitedly, with jerky, expressive gestures, his hollow eyes fixed on the man's every look and every motion, adding strength to what he said, until the club-man seemed fascinated. As the tramp finished the club-man got up from the bench and shook himself like a man ridding his mind of an unpleasant daydream. "Ugh, man, you ought to be an actor. Here's fifty cents." |
What sub-type of article is it?
Medical Curiosity
Biography
What themes does it cover?
Misfortune
Madness
What keywords are associated?
Delirium Tremens
Alcoholism
Tramp
Beggar
Whisky
Nerves
What entities or persons were involved?
Tramp
Club Man
Where did it happen?
Washington, Park
Story Details
Key Persons
Tramp
Club Man
Location
Washington, Park
Story Details
A tramp explains his alcoholism and fear of delirium tremens to a club-man, seeking advice on buying a bed or whisky with his last quarter; the club-man gives him fifty cents.