The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1875-08-12

PIC III OTeymOOr salu thaC his pros
perity had made him very proud, and
thought that it was natural, and that
they would have been as proud as he
with only halfhis money; but at that
period he was never more humble in
his heart, and never more unhappy.
For though it was pleasant to- him,
almost oonsolatory, to talk Of hope,
there were many chances against
him: he was growing older and gray
er every day, and there might be truth
and honor in the Frenchman, and de-
fance to him who sought to sunder
: In>the'early spring London was
shaken by one Of its panics- the
money market ;, wis agitated to its
centre, banks collapsed, public com
panies shsiveled up by scores, wealthy
.mensbecame beggars, and ruin seemed
every where at once Ruin: came
down to Greymoor, seized one Robert
Trustworth by the throat, and cast
him back to his old place. His shares
in the Joint Stock Amalgamation
Company, of which we have heard
him boasting, were the main source of
his ruin, for the Joint Stock Amalga-
nation broke up, and there set in an
incessant call upon the shares calls
Of twenty-five and fifty pounds per
share, until Robert Trustworth was.
as gray as Abel Wrayford. T. The
fisherman had not borne prosperity
well-had not takento it gracefully
and his downfall was not composed
or philosophical. When.he had lost
only half his money he took to drink
ing-the IDIOTS inevitable refuge.
and was seen staggering about. Grey.
moor at all hours Of the day; and
when the last blow came, IN the shape
of his bank breaking, up, ne had deSr.
i,tm tremens. and then brain-fever,.
and it was rumored that Robert,
Trustworth would not live the spring
out. Still Trustworth recovered, and
before the first Of June he was to be.
seen at the Greymoor beer-shops very
often, and to*be found idling on the
beach with old companions whose so
ciety he had evaded in his amuence.
It was great drop, and he raved a
great deal Of his losses, but the neigh
bors soon grew accustomed to Trust
worth's new position. He appeared
to have stepped back to his first
sphere, and to the company of the
rough, ragged seamen who haunted
the shore; he kept bad hours, and
worked with a common crew at any
labor which presented itself: he was
the Bob Trustworth that many Grey
moor worthless had known a few years
since. Every body called him Bob
now, and by strange whim he pre-
ferred to encounter humiliation in
his native village, and shock his con-
temporaries by the rapid change in
him, to beginning life areah where he
was not likely to be recognized. Had
he borne his troubles better, this might
have been heroic; but as he drank
hard, and grew reckless, desperate
fellow whom honest people Stunned,
It was simply bravado. ...
Robert Trustworth had one para.
Pmount grievance in the midst of many
wrongs. He cursed the Joint Stock
Amalgamation Company, and; the
bank which had broken with his saw
ings in it, and all the petty misfor
tunes which had followed in one
stream upon him and swept him int<
beggary; but he cursed nothing &C
heartily as Abel Wrayford's luck
and hated no one so persistently and
we'll as the man who had grown rich
at the very time that his own wealth
had passed away. 1t was a strang'
hate, but it was a genuine and an in
tense one. Abel Wrayford mad,
every allowance for it, for he had be
come aware Of it. He considered tha
trouble had turned the few brain
which Robert Trustworth had eve
possessed, and that the mans bite
rancor was part Of the malady b,
which he was afflicted. Trustwortl
would call after him in the village
would dog his steps at times, and il
his drunken moods would assail hin
with reproaches for buying up hi
property in Greymoor, ior no othe
} purpose than to lord it over him no,
that he was q poor fisherman. ABB
Il WraYford at these times would tur
1
away wrath by dropping q few shi
lings into Robert Trustworth's hand
and the recipient would take them 6
his due, and 60 growing away witt
out any thanks for the gift. A
) Wrayford was weak enough to b
) stow his aims in his fashion, the,
8 might possibly have been a methc
: in Robert Trustworth's madness, b,
! there was no mistake, for all that,
: the hate which the ruined man bo.
+ him who had grown successful in Il
8 world. In the Lobster limit
. lnndlady Of which establishment hi
t set her cap at honest Bob in his bt
81 tr dsYh be would. drink oonfaai'