OPIUMISED.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVI, Issue XIII, 28 March 1896, Page 341

OPIUMISED.

* Aha,’ remarked ray friend with a sniff, as we walked up Wakefield-street from the Auckland wharf where I had been to welcome him from 'Frisco, * Aha,' ’ there is one of John's favourite vices. I have smoked opium.' • And still continue to do so ?’

‘ No, thank God ; my experience with the drug was short and decisive, but sharp while it lasted. The opium habit,' added Dawson (I call my friend by this name ; it will do as veil as another) *is like a quicksand—once in its grasp, escape is almost impossible. Or, it may better be compared to the poisoned shirt of Nessus.’ ‘ You managed to extricate yourself, it appears.' ‘ But not without a struggle. I feel the effects of the drug even to this day, although it is many years since curiosity induced me to “ hit ” the first pipe—as a yielding to this seductive habit is slangily called by the recognised “fiends.” I’m not aDe Quincey, but I will tell you as definitely and clearly as I can my feelings while under the influence of the drug. I had become acquainted with a gambler, a high-toned, expert member of the fancy. I noticed that he often left the place where he dealt, and when he returned, say in half an hour, his manner had undergone a change ; he was more careful, and manipulated the cards with greater steadiness and ease. One day I asked him the plain question : ‘“Wilson ” —that was his name—“ why do you call on a substitute and quit the table so often ?’ ‘ “ Opium, my boy,” he readily answered. “ I can do nothing without it ; steadies the nerves, you know. Deprive me of my periodical pipe, and I'm like a fiddle without strings. Ever try a whiff ?” ‘ “ Then you’d better take my advice, and continue to let it alone.” * But my curiosity was aroused by his caution. After

accompanying Wilson to his favourite opium joint several times, I finally concluded to realize the sensations, whatever they might be. derived from smoking the drug. I “ hit ” my first pipe, as the phrase goes, about 4 o'clock one afternoon, and even now, as I talk to you, there is an involuntary shudder running through my body as the remembrance of the terribly sickening sensation I then felt comes back to me. Yah ! it was a foretaste of what hell is supposed to be. It was hard work, in the beginning, to get the pipe stem properly adjusted to my mouth, and the method of smoking is different from that in using tobacco. Like most beginners, I smoked too much at the start, but hardly felt the power of the drug till I rose from the bunk on which I had lain. Then I became compare lively helpless and staggered like a drunken man. zigzagging toward a water pitcher, from which I drank a cupful or more. Nausea followed, so intense that the same feeling arising from mal-dt mer is mild in comparison, and when I reached my wooden couch again my lower limbs gave way and I fell prone, helpless and insensible. Wilson found and brought me to myself. By his help I reached my room in the hotel, where I again fell into a sleep, disturbed by restlessness and horrid dreams. I would awake shrieking and with the idea some one was in the room seeking my life. I swore I would not touch the wretched stuff again, but the time came when I gave way to the craving. I pulled away steadily for about three minutes, and that time I got a glimpse of the opium devotee's paradise, about which so much is written and spoken. With my body and limbs completely relaxed, I dropped into a state of delightful dreamy half-sleep, languidly knowing all that was going on about me, but caring for nothing. I was above and beyond all worldly considerations, all responsibilities. Then there came a change. Restlessness supervened, and this dream of delight was rounded by horrible mental images resembling the harpies that Dore pictures in his illustrations of Dante's Inferno. Then I came back in a dazed way to real life again, drank the strong tea, as I had been advised, and went home with all my nerves united in a general protest. I was terribly ill, and suffered fearful pains. Wilson came and offered me an opium pill as the only cure, but I threw the thing away and cried that I would never touch it, and I never have.’