The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1849-09-11 00:00:00

repeated rebuffs. His agricultural customers could not
answer even the demand of the landownor and the rate
collector. His professional customers, the landlord class ,
even, and tradesmen of undoubted means, were similarly
unable to aid him. Money seemed to have been altoge-
ther withdrawn from amongst that little community. The
the gold to have been returned to its native mines, and
its paper representative to haveteased to circulate. There
were still the bright green fields around, with the herds
grazing upon them ; there were the-farm houses and the
barn yards; there were the shops filled with every neees-
sary and luxury of man ; there were stately vessels in the
neighbouring port, laden with rich products of every
portion of the globe. But all industry and commerce
seemed to be paralysed. Enterprise was no more. The
sole end and aim of every man was to get possession of a
few pieces•of money to supply absolute wants, or to stave
off demands, which could not be postponed. A few
amongst the community, it is true, were in possession of
money ; but these hoarded it,—clutched it as their only
hope of safety amidst the impending wreck, or used it as
an instrument to cxtort from their neighbours an undue
portion of the fruits of their hard toil.
The last day had come, on which the acceptance must
be met, or loss of credit, almost ruin, must ensue; yet
Air. Wilson was still many pounds short of the sum re-
quired. The bank had altogether refused to aid him.
They were only intent upon protecting themselves ; and
with difficulty were enabled to do so, by exacting rep y-
Tent of advances, wherever it could be effected. They
were the screw upon a small scale, worked by the giant
screw, which was torturing the entire commercial world,
crushing fortunei at every turn. The worthy tradesman
was almost frantic in his efforts, and maddened still fnrther
by every failure. In vain, for the first time in his life, the
aid of the pawnbroker was invoked, and his house stripped
of the few articles of plate, which had been regarded as
heir looms—humble, indeed, but prized as the tokens of
their station, equally with the epergnes and salvers of the
noble. In vain the single horse which Mr. Wilson kept,
partly for his own use and partly for business purposes, was
disposed of at half its price. The post hour came ; and
Mr. Wilson knew that he was a dishonoured man.

We change the scene to a counting-house in one of the
leading business streets of the metropolis. Half a dozen
clerks in the outer office ply their active pens in silence,
interrupted only by the chink of gold, as it was told out into
the drawers, or the rumbling sound of notes counted by
busy fingers. There is wealth beneath that roof, the use
of a mere fraction of which, for a few hours, would save
the credit and fortune of thousands—would heal hearts
that are breaking, and drive agony from many an over-
wrought brain. But it is the harvest of the bullionist—
the man of millions. Others have sown and reaped,
planted and watered, during years past; and be is now
gathering in the fruits, See that grey-headed man who
has just now, wild•with excitement, emerged from the
inner room—the temple of the deity of money-getting—
and flung upon the counter, with a groan, a scrap of paper,
in exchange for which, a clerk, with the impassive action
and look of an automaton, is handing over a roll of notes
and a large sum in gold. He has gone now, with hurried
steps. That merchant will weather the storm for a few
days or weeks longer; but he is a ruined man. To avert
immediate downfal, he has sacrificed the accumulation of
half a life's striving. This is the working of the boasted
monetary system of the greatest commercial country in the
world ! Oh, shame upon such philosophy I