The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1859-09-30
BY JERE. CROWLEY
MONEY IN THE BANK.

} among my fashionable New York friend:
that in retiring from the pleasures and lux
uries of city life, | was only following tn
suggestion of my medical adviser. If th
assertion was a falsehood, | had at ieas
the consolation of knowing that it was
very small one considering who told it,
and that in the great debt and credit ac
count which the angels are supposed t,
keep up above some where, it will never b.
set down against my name for the reason
that the particular page or pages dedicated
to my service being crammed full of large
iniquities, there is no room for such littl.
trash.
Now don't 90 to imagining me an un
truthful person. Slight prevarications are
often the innocent means of doing a great
amount of good, and saving amiable peo
pie like myself from a vast deal of trouble
AS general thing, detest fbbing, but
assure the reader, that but for the delicate
exaggerations of which | have had the
honor of being author, my disposition
which is one OF the sweetest and most plac-
i'd, would have long ago been as sour as a
last years churning. In soliciting loans
for ones friends, in evadng the cruelty of
thoughtless creditors, and in the thousand
and-one exigencies Of this mortal life, which
it would be useless to attempt to particu-
larlze, slight invasions or alterations of the
truth are indispensiby necessary. l can
recall an instance where should have lost
an excellent boarding place, because l hap
pened to take a fancy to 90 home one night
in ri gag way, instead of following the
old-fashioned method Of walking straight
ahead. A white lie saved me, not only
from the expected consequences of MY ec-
centric style of my pedestrianism, but also
from the wrath of my land-lady's daugh-
ter, whom had mistaken for the kitchen
girl, and attempted to kiss on the stairs.
Pardon the depression. l merely wish
ed to stand fair in the eyes of the world,
and to show that, although occasionally for
convenience sake | indul ged in little nee
essary tibbing, [ have yet no sympathy or
patience with persons who are not truth
full. As said before, my temper would
long ago have exploded, but for these lit
tie safety-valves for letting the steam off
once in a while; and as [ consider il a
Christian duty to preserve ones good ma
ture at all hazards, why, my conscience
never reproaches me.
Well, [ went to Grafton. ZAat's no lie
by my dyed beard it isn't | wish it
was, for thereby hangs tale which has
made my name a by-word and laughing
stock. My name! Ye gods and little
fs'les! that Mathew Henderson should
live to write this of himself.
AS | said, went to Grafton, and if my
medical adviser didn't counsel me to such
a proceeding, he might have done 50, and
reflected more credit upon his profession
than physicians usually do by their pre-
scriptions. To explain myself, | must ad-
NIT that | was sick. By those individual 5,
who, like myself have deigned to take up
on themselves the troublesome and respon-
sible burden of human existence or, in
other words, have condescended to be born
and thus coudenscending, considering their
earthly duties at an end, and wash their
hands of all further concern in the matter
from that time forward; who think it
ought to be the pleasure as we'll as the du-
ty of the world at large to support them
comfortably-who scorn the idea of per-
sonal exertion as degrading, and look upon
labor as the birthright of their Interiors
who manage in diverse genteel ways, be-
yond the comprehension of vulga minds,
% get along in life without any visible
means of support;'' bv these individuals, |
say, sweet fellow-sutferers | have no
doubt shall be understood when | reiter-
ate the word SICK.
Sick-not in body, but in mind and
heart. Prostrated-not by physical illness
but by the base ingratitude of a selfish
World. Every sensitive nerve in my body
is set ajar by the coarse and meddlesome
opportunities of those unfeeing worldings
alias creditors, with could not comprehend
the delicacy of my organization, or under
stand how essential were peace, harmony,
and luxurious ease, to keep in tone the
tinely-strung chords of sucn soul as mine.
1t is painful task to write down the
faillngs Of ones friends, especially after
the elapse of years has taught us the sub
lime lesson of forgiveness and yet feel
it to be my distressing duty in this in
stance. In no other way can | hope to |
excite the sympathy which feel is due to
me.
1t may seem impossible to believe, and
still it may be true nevertheless, that about !
the time of which | write, the friends |
whom had loved and trusted most implic- |
lily ever since my remembrance; to whose |
pecuniary care had contided myself with |
pleasure; in the sunshine of
whose prosperity hal reposed as a child |
in the bosom of its mother, actually turn |
ed the cold shoulder to me, one and all, /
declining further connection with my fate,
and relentlessl Y giving me over to the hun
cry pangs of poverty. And this, too, after
had been faithful to them AS the needle .
to the pole, with exception of one unfor-
tunate creature who was foolish enough to |
fail in business, and whose dishonorable I
rs a matter of course could /
no longer tolerate
The first suspicion had of the changed !
state of my affairs, was the refusal of one
OF my most intimate friends to loan me an |
y. Gracious heavens! and | had dined !
with him twice week regularly for years
his wine, smoked his cigars, driv-
en his horse, aud never failed spending an |
evening with lis pretty wife whenever he :