The Planters' banner. [volume] (Franklin, Attakapas Co., Lou.) 1849-1872, 1850-04-04
The Blighted One

About fifteen years since. James Bay
nard and | graduated at the same
university. He was my superior in
every thing but Latin. The poets and
orators of Greece and Rome were his
favorite companions. Often have We
walked under the shadows of ancient
editices and tall outrageous trees. con-
trasting the breadth AMI depths OF our
requirements and speculations on the
future. Often have stood breathless
TO listen to him picturing in glowing
colorings the successes and triumphs
which would crown his 3iter-lte. He
could scarcely have been said to have
lived in the present He was either
broodlng over the treasures OF the past.
or soaring on the wings of imagination
into the untrodden future. Time passed
on, and had not seen my friend for
several years. Ihad occasionally heard
of him, but the intelligence was far
from an encouraging character.
One beautiful star-lit evening, while
crossing London Bridge. a man.. with
STOPPING mien, his hat over his eyes,
and his dirty, torn coat buttoned around
him, asked me for some coppers.
thought | remembered the voice.
looked at the man, and started back,
and stood for moment speechless, as
If | had encountered ghost. | was
almost certain that the wretched being
| who stood before me was the one whom
| once rejoiced TO call my friend and of
whose success had once such high
expectations. dared not at first speak
to him and call him by his name,
fearing that he would answer and con-
firm my suspicious. But | did so. and
his answer sent cold thrill through my
frame. 1t was he, or what was left OF
him. He was no other than a mean
looking, soul-broken drunkard. no
sooner told him my name. than he looked
still more ghastly, and appeared for a
moment as if annihilation would be a
comfort to him. As we both partially
collected ourselves, he tried to shun
me, by saying, beg pardon, sir, | took
You for some one else' That did not
satisfy me. followed him, and COM
PEELED him to share part OF my purse
He took it tremblingly, and said, ~ am
a miserable, guilty, lost man." My
heart was SO iull. that | could only take
his address, and tell him that would
call on him. Invent ON my way in deep
deep sorrow. | had seen the friend Of
my earlier years, one in whom had
reposed much confidence-one from
whose lips l had caught many an in
spiration, and one who had in no small
degree fashioned my mind and colored
NY destiny. Here was |. in affluent
circumstances and with bright pros
poets. But what was he! A fallen
man, an outcast, a victim to strong
drink. What advantage to him was
the classic page! What was all his
learning, his ardent hopes, his warm
aspirations now? What were Plato
Aristotle, Socrates, Homer, Virgil, Taci
tus, Thucydides, Cicero, and Horace
nowa He could not be worse off il
Greece and Rome neverexisted. What
was the greatness and glory of his owr
country to him9 Art science, philoso
ply, history, poetry, truth, man, God
and eternity were forgotten. The star:
might shine on in their deep mysteriou:
, beauty; the earth, the heavens, ant
millions of human souls might avail
to contribute to his happiness, and im
press him with the loftiness of hi
, nature, and the vastness of his destiny
But no; there he was, a crushed, mu
tilated being.