CONFESSIONS OF A DRUNKARD.
{"newspaper_name": "The Columbian fountain.", "edition": "01", "page": "p2", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 931, "word_count": 174, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9735999703407288], "ccnet_perplexity": [985.4000244140625], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
"Could the youth, to whom the flavor Of
his first wine is delicious as the opening scenes
Of life, or the entering upon some newly dis
covered paradise, look into my desolation, and
be made to understand what dreary thing il
is when a man shall feel himself going down
precipce with open eyes and a passive will
to see his destruction, and have no power
to stop it, and yet to feel it all the way emana
ting from himself to perceive all goodness gone
from him, and yet not be able to forget a time
when it was otherwise; TO bear about the pi-
teous spectacle Of his own selfruin could he
see my fevered eye-feverish with last nights
drinking, and feverishly looking for this nights
repetition Of the folly; could he feel the body
of the death, out of which | cry hourly with
feebler and feebler outcry to be delivered--it
were enough 10 make him dash the sparkling
beverage to the earth in all the pride of its
mantliag temptation"