Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1878-01-04

suspect, before the autumn had crime
soned the leaves, that Barry Munson
was in love with Bessie Charlock. That
same suspicion assumed the form of
conviction in Barry's own mind. Al
belt she vexed him at times, and
wounded his vanity, and even caused
him TO bite his lips with irritation, he
was still forced TO admit that Bessie
Charlock was most charming girl.
Never, perhaps, had he been more |
deeply impressed with this truth than |
on certain October afternoon, when |
they walked together under the over
arching elms that gave grandeur to the |
quiet Barborough street.
"Bessie, would 1t surprise you very |
much il told you that l loved youP
She did not answer at once; but when |
she did her voice was clear and un-
shaken.
"No, il would not surprise me very |
much to hear you say so; but should |
doubt your words"
"SuppOse you were convinced of their |
sincerity, might hope that you would |
accept the love offerP Might l hope |
that you would promise to become my |
wifcP'
"No, Barry; do not love you well
enough for that. When l promise a
man to become his wife, mnst feel for
him deeper respect than do for you"
She turned her wondrously-truthful
eyes toward him, and kept them fixed
upon his face. The steady gaze brought
the color to his cheek.
"What have l ever done to forfeit
your respect?'' he asked, after painful
pause.
"Nothing. And you have done moth
| ing to gain it, You have brains, edu-
cation, opportunities everything to fit
you for a noble life. You ought to win
a name among men. Instead of max
ing the effort, you choose to do nothing
to spend the money which somebody
else has earned, and to waste the time
which might be put to good account.
Your mind seems to be occupied chiefly
with thoughts of your personal appear
ance. You never did an hours work
in your life. Barry, you have otgrown
into the manhood you ought. You have
no purpose, no AAn, no ambition. l
hate a man without ambition"
Bessie Charlock uttered these words
rapidly, and with touch of defiance in
her tone. Perhaps she fancied that her
listener would take offense at her speech,
and she was determined to finish what
she had to say while the opportunity
presented itself Whatever Barrys
thoughts may have been, he showed no
signs of anger. STOPPING to pick up
yellow leaf, he said:
"What is fellow to do, Bessie? The
war is over; there isn't any chance to
become hero nowadays. And don't
know that there is any work for me to
do, unless | go into the law, which /
detest cordially. You wouldn't have
me become a machinist like Tom Finch,
would you?"
"IwOuld have you become anything"
answered she, "to show Yourself man."
In the glory of the autumnal sunset
Barry Munson made his way hOmeward
with those words ringing in his ear.
What, in sooth, had he ever done to
show himself man? Won the Rexford
prize in oratory, and declaimed upon
the effect of Plato's philosophy on mod
ern thought. Somehow these perform
anees did not appear to him as remark
able as they had six weeks before. He
began to wonder whether his life was
really without an aim; whether he him
self was really without ambition. Pos
sibly he would have become despond-
ent had not vanity helped him over
the slough. Bessie, at least, did not
love another; he felt assured of that
She would love him when he
had proven himself worthy of her.
Henceforth his life should not be with
out a purpose. He would become a
famous lawyer, or he would write a
book, or he would go to Congress. He
would do something, at all events, to
astonish the world-which meant the
people of Barborough-and to win
the respect of Bessie Charlock. In
short, he would show himself man.
The fall of 1873 brought with it dis
aster to the BarborOugh iron-works.
First came the failure of Gaylord & Co.,
by which Abner Munson lost $50, 600
Then followed the sudden decline of
Raritan Railway stocks, and the closing
up of the four-ply mills; then depres-
sion in business throughout the coun-
try, and distrust and panic. Abner
Munson bore up bravely, and fought
adversely single-handed. Half the men
at the iron-wOrks were discharged. The
wages of those who remained were re-
duced 20 per cent. Still there was no
demand for the iron wheels and boilers,
the piston-rods and beams. These
things are the concomitants of industry,
and industry was paralyzed. One
morning the clocks of Barborough
struck seven, but the whistle of the
Barborough iron-works did not echo the
hour. The whir of machinery was
hushed, the fires in the furnaces were
out, the works were closed. Men stood
about the smoky doors, anxious-eyed
and moody. No fault of theirs made
them idle; it was labor that they sought,
and found not.
And while Barry Munson was still
dreaming of what he should do to as
tonish the world, behold! the world as
tonished him. He awoke to find him
self not famous, but poor. And, before
he could fully know what poverty
meant, great sorrow fell upon him,
whose black shadow darkened his life
and chilled his heart.
The body of Abner Munson was
found, stark and lifeless, in the office of
the Barborough iron-works. On the
floor, by its side, lay a pistol. A Coro-
ner's jury declared that temporary in
sanity had led to the rash deed; but there
were not wanting those who believed
that ceaseless anxiety, and struggles
not temporary, had caused Abner Mum
son to covet the mystery of death.
In the terrible days that followed this
crushing blow Barry found no mind for
thought. To others was left the task
of investigating his fathers affairs. 1t
was discovered that the heavy losses of
three months had swept away the rich
savings of thirty years. A just settle
ment of the claims against the estate
left the family of Abner Munson with
out dollar,
"We must give up the house, the fur
niture, everything, Barry" said his
mother. 1--WE have nothing left now. ~
Then Barry, pressing the hand of his
mother, said:
"l have my youth and your love.
Let them take all else. l can provide
for us BOTH