Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1857-12-30


leave the house until he sees your father.
1 wish you would 60 down to him. He
acts strangely"
Without stopping 10 reflect. left the
apartment and hu rriel down to the par
lor. 1 found a man walking the floor in
very exciting manner.
"I wish 10 see Mr.. W." said he,
abruptly, and in an imperative way.
"He is very i'll, SIR" 1 replied and
cannot be seen."
must see him, sick or WE'LL" His
manner was excited.
Impossible. sir"
The door-bell rung again at this mo-
ment, and with some violence. paus-
ed, and stood listening until the servant
ans w6red the summons, while the man
strobe twice the full length of the
parlor.
"l wish to see Mr.. W" 1t was the
voice OF man.
"He is SICK the servant ri pied.
"Give him my name-Mr. Walton
and say that l must see him for just a
moment" And this new visitor came in
past tie waiter, and entered the
parlor.
"Mr. Arnold!" he ejaclated, in con-
siderable surprise.
"Humpbl This is nice busiuessl"
said the first visitor, in a rude way, en-
tirely Indifferent to my presence OF feel
ings. "a nice business, must con-
fessr'
"Have you seen Mr.. w." was in
CURED.
"No. They say he is sick"
There was an unconcealed doubt in
the voice that uttered this.
"Gentlemenl" said I, stung into indig-
nant courage, ''this is an outrage! What
do you mean by il?"
1--WE wish to see your father" said
the last conner, his manner changing,
and his voice respectful.
"You have been told," was my firm
reply. that my father is too i'll 10 be seem.
''lt isn't an hour, as am told, since he
left his store," said the first visitor,
"and 1 hardly think that his illness has
progressed so rapidly up to this time as
to make an interview dangerous. We do
not wish to be rude or uncourteous, Miss
W-,but our business with your IA
ther is inn erative, and we must see him.
L for one, do not intend leaving the
house until l meet him face TO face?"
"Will ou walk up stairs?" l had the
presence of mind and descision 10 say,
and l moved from the parlor into the
passage. The men followed, and led
them up to the chamber where our dis
tressed family were gathered around my
father. As we entered the hushed apart
ment the men passed forward somewhat
eagerly, but their steps were suddenly
arrested. The sight was one TO make
its own impression. My fathers face
deathly in its hue, was turned toward
the door, and from his barred arm a
stream of dark blood was flowing slug
gishly, the physician had just opened
vein.
''Comel This is no place for u.s." l
heard one of the men whisper TO the
other. and they withdrew as unceremo-
niously as they had entered. Scarcely
had they gone when the l-ud-ringiug of
the door bell sounded through the house
again.
What does all this mean?" whisper
ed my distressed mother.
81 can not tell. Something is wrong"
was all | could answer; and a vague,
terrible fear took possession of my
heart.
In the midst of our confusion and un-
certainty, theonly relative of my mother
arrived. and from him we learned the
crushing fact that my fathers paper had
been that day dishoncred at bank. In
other words, that he had failed in busi-
ness.
The blow, long suspended over his
hcad-as l afterwards learned-long
dreaded, and long averted by the most
desperate expedients to save himself
from ruin, when it did fall, was too heavy
for him. 1t crushed the life out of his
en- feebled system. That fearful night he
died!
1t is not my purpose to draw toward
the survivors any sympathy by picturing
the changes in their fortunes and modes
of life that followed this sad event.
They have all endured much and suffer
ed much. But how light has II been TO
what my father must have endu ed and
suffered in his long struggle TO sustain
the lhoughtless extravagance of his fam
lily, 10 supply them with comforts and
luxuries, none Of which he could himself
enjoy. Ever before me was the image
of his gradual wasting form, and pale,
sober anxious face. His voice, always
mild, now comes TO my ears in memory
burdened with a most touching sadness.
What could we have been thinking
about? Oh, youth! how blindly selfish
thou art! How unjust in thy thoughtless-
ness! What would l not give TO have
my father back again! This daily toll
for bread; those hours Of labor, prolong-