The Planters' banner. [volume] (Franklin, Attakapas Co., Lou.) 1849-1872, 1853-06-09


AT last, about half way down the heap
he came to small note, deeply Dor.
dered with black, and directed, in an
old fashioned female hand.
"My GodP' he exclaimed. "from
my mother; but I could not bear tc
read it nolVt Time was" said he, sink.
ing back into chair, :" that watched
for the post, and laid in my stock OF
seven days comfort from this weekly
letter; but nolc." and the voice died
away in hysteric sobs, as he covered
his face with his hands.
/" What folly p said he, starting up
"you are but half-hour's acquain-
tance, and have already seen my tears.
But you are gentleman" he added,
more slowly, taking my hand, as he
saw that my own tears fell like rain
"you have mother whom you love,
and you can respect my griet."
l could only answer him by pressing
his hand. There was an image before
me-a foreboding-the wreck of intel
lect and domestic peace-a shadow
thrown upon my own path. by the dark
ness which already encircled his.
| spoke some hasty consolation.
though with choked and imperfect ut
terance; and with an earnestness,
vouched by my tears, besought him
to refrain from drinking any more.
go, come, comew said he, ;my
poor boy, you take this trife too much
to heart. Come let's dress, and take a
walk; I'll read it in the fields, and per-
haps it may do something for me,
though [ fear it comes too late"
He retusued from the bedroom in a
few minutes. elegantly dressed, and
with every trace of agitation gone !;
but ! had heard the gurgle of the de-
canter, and could judge the source of
his mirth. Leaving some money with
the clerk, and telling him that he
would return and resume his business
regularly in the morning, he accom-
panied me into Fleet street.
We called on several friends in the
Temple, and everywhere | could see
how highly he was esteemed-how
little they knew his real state-how
noble a prospect his folly, his desper-
ate madness had effaced.
Passing up the Strand to Charing
Cross, we called cab and drove to the
Regents Park; he there threw him.
self down in the long grass, at the foot
of Primrose Hill, and read the letter
aloud.
1t was one of those which can only
couIe from Iouu, proud mntherS pen /:
she spoke of his sister, and their hope
TO come up to town and see him in a
few weeks, or that he would 60 down
TO them. It spoke of the pride she
took in hearing of his fair fame. and
anticipating the happiness and advan-
tages of his future career. 1t was one
Of those letters which they are happy
who receive, and bIest who inertia
letter TO touch the rock of sel6shness.
and draw forth. whatever purity and
kindness the heart contains-such a
letter as a thousand mothers write
such letter as scarcely any son can
read without determination, repen-
tance and tears.
For my own part, gave way to my
feelings, and wept like child; but
Carson shed no tear; his voice was
husky, slow, and dreadfully deliberate
as if he wished to drain the dregs of
the bitter cup, and feel the torment of
each separate drop. He folded up the
letter and arose; his limbs trembled so
that he had to lean on me; and as we
walked back to the cab, he whispered
" / will drink no more; my fate is in
your hands; take me to a doctor, and
see if a worthless life can be saved for
better purposes"
| drove down to my friend, DR..
BIS. and to him Carson stated his
case. It was a common one, and this
that he had now been under the
maddening influence of drink for more
than ten days, and that he feared de-
lirium and death would seize him if he
abstained.
DR.. B-felt his pulse, and immedi-
ately asked if he had any friends on
whom he could rely. He answered.
none, unless would interest myself so
far in a ruined man, who might never
live to make return of tue obligation.
He felt, he said, as if death had al
ready marked him, but still desired,
even more strongly than life, that no
friends of his should be acquainted
with the nature or degree of his illness.
promised silence, and it was finally
agreed that he should be removed to a
+" maison de sante," or private hospital.
some miles from town.
Why harrow your feelings by a de-
scription of his sufferings2 why at
tempt to depict the unutterable torture
of body and soul which followed his
abstinence from the bowl? why or
how, reveal the horrors which made
demon land of his couch, and frenzied
into desperation and violence an i'm
agination already vivid, eager. warm,
and comprehensive? Behold him on
the bed: young, brilliant educated.
refined and sensitive, but yesterday,
or a fortnight since, with friends who
him. mother who loved
him, a future full of hope, and equal to
his highest aspirations. To-day draw
aside the curtains, and contemplate
the wreck--a shattered maniac, raving