Illustrative of the War.
--A relic of the past is seen in a man bearing upon his face and body the impress of many years.
This man walks the streets daily, bearing the marks of misfortune, amid the friends he had known in better years, but with an appearance so changed one can hardly recognize in him the Mercutio of the
Crescent City; the gay, witty and elegant gentleman who was at one time the very leader of fashion.
Seedy habiliments, a bent body and wrinkled face, have nearly obliterated all in him that was familiar in the past.
Inheriting a great fortune, he increased it largely by marriage, and from his profession at the bar had an income of forty or fifty thousand a year, and received a single free of sixty thousand dollars upon a claim on
real estate in the lower part of the city.
This wealth he scattered with princely generosity and royal profusion.
He was a Lucullus at home, and his hospitalities aspired to all the magnificence of the ancient Roman noblemen.
In 1837 he gave a single soiree that cost $25,000, and which exceeded in splendor anything ever before known here.
The very floors over which the dancers moved were covered with scenic paintings, the work of the most accomplished artist then in New Orleans; and in the saloon where gaming tables were arranged stood two baskets--one filled with bank notes and the other with gold, for the use of those guests who were unfortunate with the fickle goddess.
The dispenser of this gorgeous hospitality is now dependent upon his relatives.
He takes his loss with Christian resignation, and does not fly from the world or fall against it, like
Timon of
Athens, but moves through the world with a pleasant and urbane manner, as if he had still the princely fortune at command.
Such cases as this are common since the war.--
New Orleans Crescent. 
