Eastern times., 1855-12-06
G5t storg GelItr
An Impressive Lesson.

An Impressive Lesson.
A sad tale Of early transgresslon and crime
&c The ricked shall not hue out half thar
days"
In the Pioneer, or California Monthly Mag
azine, for July, we find the following melan-
choly history, contributed to that periodical by
the Hon. E. Gould Buffum. The story is
true, and we could fill up the blanks with the
real names, if any good object was thereby to
be obtained. MIR. Buffum has not even given
the true initials of the unhappy young man
whose fate he describes
81 had been to West Point in the summer
Of 1916, engaged in writing series of letters
for the Morning --, with which had been
copnected as a reporter for some time previous.
mydesk young man, apparently about twen-
ty-6ve years OF age, dressed in the most seedy
style imaginable, and indulgng in that full
breastedness of coat which usually covers a
shirt Of rather suspicious whiteness. A
glimpse at his face removed the unfayorabe
opinions which his dress had impaired. His
forehead was high and Intellectual, his head
unusually large in proportion 10 The remainder
Ofhis body, and his whole features were cast
in that classic mould, which gives so much
beauty to the pro6les of Michael Angelo
He struck me at once as a remarkable man,
and subsequent events showed me | was not
mistaken. He had been engaged at the Office
at small salary, and was miserably poor, and
upon my introducing myself to him, as i'm
mediately did, he asked me TO step aside, upon
doing which he craved a small loan to enable
him to purchase breakfast. l let him have
the moaey, and at night took him TO my third
story back room in my boarding house, where
he shared my narrow cot not quite wide enough
for one. In the close connection into which
our duties brought US, we soon became as inti-
mately acquainted as any one could become
with such singular being as he was.
had not known him many days before
found he was man of genius rarely ever met
with, and that, grated upon it, were attain
ments such as seldom are seen in one so young
He had been educated at - College, where
he stood at the head of his class, and besides
the musty lore of Greek and Latin, he had
made himself perfectly acquainted with He
brew, and of the modern languages, he spoke
iueasiy French, Spanish, German and Italian.
He sketched and painted, too, with an artists
skill, and soon after our acquaintance COM
meoced, he one day showed me portfolio of
paintings in water-coior, of scenes from na-
ture, or wild tropical scenes, where the tow
ering palm-tree cast shadow over the paint
ed eaEth, and where gorgeously-colored tropi-
cal fowecs and birds of golden plumage filled
the picture, and then some ancient ruins-the
remains apparently of a race of which my his
tory-readlng had never taught me-Inca-lke
palaces, and temples, and tombs; aud then
scenes upon the broad desolate ocean-like
waving pampas and then pictures of domes-
tic beauty and content at doors of little huts,
within which the ig-tree and the cocoa-nut
cast their refreshing shadows and then sun
set scenes, on which his pencil had left the
gorgeous colors, such as linger on the billow
clouds of the tropics. when the sinking sun is
tinging them with his farewell rays. One of
these sunset scenes he showed me was fancy
sketch, such as only the pencil of an artist,
and not my pen can describe. But it was
scene of quiet, calm, peaceful and unclouded
rest, where the very stiffness of the air seemed
painted-where the tree leaves stood as mo-
tionless as though no breeze had ever rustled,
and where silver stream was gliding through
a fower-enamalled plain. By its side, sad
and melancholy, and gazing into its limpid
waters, was young man. Small though the
and portrait. / asked him what he called the
picture, and be said it was 'Lethe
He was singular being. At times he was
overhowing with wit and humor but these
were rare. A settled gloom hung over his
countenance, and all his conversation wore a
glare of sadness-as plainly as though il were
stamped upon his brow in letters deeply cut as
the brand of Cain-was written the curse of
his life-Memory. Curiosity and the deep
and ardent friendship had acquired for him,
often tempted me to lift the veil which like a
darkening cloud hung over his heart and his
life, but always 10 no purpose. Occasionally
he would come to the office, much exhilerated
with drink, and then he would sit down and
dash off one of those flowing, pithy, scorching,
or prophetic articles, which at that time made
the Morning - SO celebrated, and which
were quoted and commented upon throughout
the country and the world, as the productions
OF the celebrated editor. So things progressed
for months, and though we were in const1nt
intercourse with each other, though all his
daily life and action were part of mine, never
learned his history, never dreamed the secret
of his life, never knew why he sought and
hoped only for the Lethe Of forgetfulness, till
the incident occurred, which am now about
to relate:
1t was portion of my reportorial duties to
go to the police office, and there gather and
eollate, that the copious world might know
them, the annals of crime. In pursuance of
this duty, was one day turning over the
pages of the police book, when my eyes were
struck by the following: