Phenix Gazette

From the Ariel.

What can be more deplorable to a sensitive mind than to behold a wreck of human reason? to see learning and talents at once prostrated at the shrine of dissipation, and manly beauty sacrificed to loathsomeness and disease. Who can, without horror, contemplate the eminence from which some noble spirits have been hurled, and the degenerate state in which they live and die. Some who have been born and educated to fill honorable stations in society, and by their good conduct have acquired that rank to which they are justly entitled, have all at once become the victims of imprudence, and sunk to a depth of degradation disgusting in the extreme. That laudable ambition which elevates man above the brute creation is completely annihilated; and every noble idea and every honorable feeling absorbed. Drunkenness is its own tormentor, and carries its punishment along with it; for no drinking man, however splendid his talents, however great his acquirements, or deep his research, can ever arrive at eminence in any profession; it paralizes its own exertions and destroys the confidence of others. Who would trust important business to a mad-man? one intoxicated is mad, he has no reason, or if he has any, it is like a dream or vision of another time.

In the year 1809, I became acquainted with a young man of respectable standing. He was a merchant, and an honorable one; none stood fairer in point of credit or character. He frequented none but the best society, and by them his company was sought after, his opinions respected, and the more experienced yielded to his judgment. In fine, few men in society stood a fairer chance to gain the apex of popularity than did young H---d. By a sudden reverse of fortune, (not an act of his own) he saw himself dispossessed of a splendid store, by the treachery of a partner, and himself thrown pennyless on a narrow world. The ephemera that rioted in the rays of his sun of prosperity, slunk away at the night of adversity, and not a consoling friend remained to pour the oil of comfort into his distracted and lacerated bosom.

To add to the poignancy of this mortification, an amiable and virtuous girl, who was about to throw herself into his arms, was induced, by her more prudent parents, to marry another. All these things served to accomplish the work of destruction, and he became a devotee to the bottle. One false step, almost invariably produces another--and he not only became a sot but lost all relish for decency. He shunned his former associates; it in fact conveyed a pang nearly allied to destruction, when recalled by the sight of an old acquaintance, to the recollection of his former respectability. He left Natchez, and became a private soldier.

I was one evening, in the month of February, 1816, sitting in my little shop in New-Orleans, contemplating the undulations of the murky river before me, which was roaring with an eastern gale: indeed I was deeply engaged in tho't, and fancy wafted me back to former days, so fondly cherished, to the chequered path of life I had trod, the variegated fortunes I had experienced, and had just concluded that I was among the most unfortunate of mortals, when a tall, manly looking soldier, stepped up and asked me for some refreshment; I arose with alacrity to comply with his wishes, for I ever felt a willingness to contribute to the wants of the veteran who fights for his country's honor. He offered me payment, which, of course, was refused--At that moment, beneath the soldier's garb, I recognized my former acquaintance H. This recognition was matter of mutual astonishment; for little did I dream that the elegant and accomplished H. would ever become a common soldier. My conscience then accused me of ingratitude towards that protecting hand which had been so often held out for my support.

In young H. I saw the fate of thousands who had not fortitude, or a mind sufficiently strong to combat the misfortunes that await us more or less through life. It is the lot of mortals to suffer losses, disappointments and mortification, and he who does not bear them manfully, was created in vain.

Natchez, January, 1826.