DEFAULTER IN DESPAIR.
When men, for insufficient reasons, have raised their hopes too high, their disappointment commonly brings with it a corresponding depression; and so with the defaulter—he now despaired. But let me not be understood that despair took away his appetite; far otherwise—there was no sickliness in his despair. He merely gave up all hope of being able to save himself from that very small modicum of attainture to his honor, which is comprehended in the name of a defaulter; and, as despair, in all its shapes and degrees, is always rash and unreasonable, he is said to have given himself up to an unaccountable fondness for those fashionable, yet too animating amusements, where gentlemen are supposed to stake largely. Here he met many pleasant companions, but among them, one particularly, a public functionary, who, although he had met him every day for years, in his attention to the duties of his office, he never before esteemed his acquaintance to be a jewel of such Price and value as he now found it to be. An intimacy of course grew up, which led to the denouement that must form the conclusion to this chapter.
FINDS A FRIEND.
This friend of great Price had every requisite of character for a gentleman. He would eat heavy, drink deep, and play high, and not the least of his accomplishments was, that he had no respect, whatever, for the character of Joseph, as claimed by the Hebrews. To add to his value, as a friend, these excellent qualities were made more seductive, by an agreeable exterior, and manner. He was also a man of business withal, and never gave more than an occasional hour of relaxation, to those refined pleasures.
As they chatted, and talked, and drank together, the defaulter sometimes looked at him with unmingled pleasure, sometimes with feelings akin to envy. What would he not give to possess the quiet and unruffled mind and temper of his friend? to be as free from any danger of exposure—from the haunting, disturbing influence of self accusation. Alas! the first step from the path of duty inevitably leads to ruin, unless immediately retraced.
Sometimes the thought would arise in his mind, “Is it possible that, like myself, he comes here as a relief to his burthened spirit?—to seek a solace for the cares of an anxious mind!” He banished the thought at once; but who is there that has not often found these random suggestions of thought were in fact the premonitions of truth?—and to this fact we are about to come.
BOTH IN THE SAME BOX.
One night, when the stakes had run high, and were swept by their opponents, and the two friends had set themselves down to the solace of their wine; and its inspiring qualities had heightened into extacy the love that glowed in the bosom of each, with that mellow frankness which wine always inspires, and the longing which friendship always feels, to make its loved object the co partner of its cares, the defaulter whispered in the softest accents, “Bill, I am ruined—the money I lost belongs to the Treasury.”
“So did mine!” was the full and sonorous response.
Had the thunder-bolt, which Abdiel let fall on the crest of Satan, struck the defaulter, he could scarcely have received a greater shock, and almost like the arch-fiend—