Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1873-10-17
A STORY OF THE PANIC OF '7s.

A gloomier morning had never clouded
down over the busy island of Manhattan
and so thought not only Paul Berrian him
self, but hundreds of other fine fellows
who, like him, were on their way to Wall
street, dreading to come once more face
to face with the fearful specter which had
so alarmed them the day before. Not
only was the dull persistent noiseless
rain falling in way to have dampened
mems spirits at the best of times, but it
was Friday, and that day of the week has
mournful traditions of its own for Wall
street, as well as for that peculiar class of
beings whose consciences remind them at
times that if not yet hung theyought to be.
But Paul Berrian's thoughts were busy
with the specter of the street, for he knew
only too well how surely he would come
that day to the brokers' offices wherein he
earned his modest salary, and how other
men would recognize the grizzly pres
ence, and how friends and foes alike
would mutter Bankruptcy" and turn
away for fear they might themselves look
the destroyer in the face.
A blue enough morning for Paul, in
spite of all his brave little wife had said
to cheer him before he left her. since he
thought, indeed, that not even Poverty
himself, Bankruptcy's grim brother,
were it not for Madeline and their bright
eyed boy. He tried not to think of them
as he sat there in the crowded car, but
their faces came before him perpetually,
and with them came also an accusing
consciousness of the selfish rashness with
which he had borne away his bride from
the home where the solid wealth and un-
questionable credit of her father had stood
between her and any possible approach of
want.
"Ah, mel" thought Paul, "The old gen.
tleman has held himself ripidly aloof
enough up to this time. Will he be at all
likely to relent-now the very thing he
has predicted is coming upon US? Will
he be apt to do more for me-now l am
out of business and helplessly adrift-than
he did when l seemed at least to have q
fair chance of padding my own canoe?
l should reckon not. He isn't that kind
Ofa man. He will know all about it, too,
before night just as everybody else will.
/ declare if that isn't old Bullions him
self!'
And true enough, there sat Madeline's
father, the great and prosperous banker,
only few seats ahead of him, apparently
absorbed in the perusal of his morning
paper. Paul took no note of the fact that
the paper was upside down, and bent his
head gloomlly forward as if he could take
a prophetic view of futurity through the
bottom of the car. He saw as he looked
along the narrow passage between the
seats, that the bankers left arm hung for
a moment loosely and listlessly down,
swaying "a little with the oscillations of
the car, and thus that the fingers of his
hand opened in a limp, nerveless sort of
way, letting fall half crumpled scrap of
paper upon the floor.
did he mean to throw it away? Some
worthless memorandum"
Paul did not stop 10 guess, but, as the
white scrap drifted by him, he reached
out and picked it up.
Not with any mean curiosity, for Paul
was the soul of honor in business affairs
but, nevertheless, he caught sight of
raggedly written column of we'll known
business names, with what seemed to be
sum-totals of cash amounts carried out
opposite each one of them, while all the
rest of the paper was covered closely with
penclled memoranda, figures, names, such
as any great banker might well be jotting
down at such time, or at any other, but
into the meaning whereof Paul had no
earthly notion of prying.
Then he saw his father-in-law's hand
suddenly grip hard and open again, as ifl
what it sought, and he knew that the
paper had been dropped unintcntionally
Of course, therefore, when the banker
arose hastily to peer about him on the
seat and along the floor, Paul could do no
less than rise also, with all politeness, and
make an immediate tender of his crumpled
prize.
The old gentleman grasped for his |
memorandum with an eagerness quite for |
eign to his usually stately manner, while |
the flush of his withered face betokened |
anything but pleasure at the idea of ac- |
ceptihg courtesy from his daughters
pauper husband. His acknowledgment
were every bit as crusty as Paul could
have anticipated, and he resumed his seat,
apparently only to bury himself in yet
protounder study OF the news and of his
recovered manuscript
"Hard as ever!" thought Paul. "Well,
if matters come to the worst, I'll never 20
near him. I'll take Greeley's advice and
20 West before ask him for one cent of
help"
Bravo for Paul's pluck! But when, a
few minutes later, the partner of his car
seat arose and went on into another car,
the young man was astonished by the Wis
ion of Madeline's father coming to take
his place lie could hardly believe his
eyes, but there was no need of that, since
the bankers hand was now upon his arm.
The flush was again upon his face, and
his hard, keen old features seemed trying
to shape themselves into an expression of
friendly and confidential interest.
Paul thought of Madeline and their
boy, and of the specter on the street.
"He doesn't know our house is bank
rupt yet" he almost said aloud. "But he !