Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1893-02-24

his philosophy. 1t was true that he
had been Industrious at the bank, but
no more so than the cashier, who had
seven small children and was visibly
sinking in decline. Nor was the step
which had determined his advance
q visit to q dive with a months wages
in his pocket-an act of such tran
scendent virtue, or even wisdom, as to
seem to merit the favor Of the gods.
From some sense of this, and of the
dizzy see-saw-heaven high, hell deep
--on which men sit clutching; or per-
haps fearing that the sources of his
fortune might be insidiously traced to
some root in the field of petty cash;
he stuck to his work, said not a word
of his new circumstances, and kept
his account with bank in different
quarter of the town. The conceal
ment, innocent as it seems, was the
first step in the tragi-comedy Of Johns
existence.
Meanwhile he had never written
home. Whether from diffidence or
shame, or touch of anger, or mere
procrastination, or because, as we
have seen, he had no skill in literary
arts, or because, as / am sometimes
tempted to suppose, there is law in
men, not otherwise beasts, from the
performance of this simple act of
piety, months and years had gone by
and John had never written. The
habit Of not writing, indeed, was al
ready fixed before he had begun to
come into his fortune, and il was on
ly the difficulty of breaking this long
silence that withheld him from an in
slant restitution of the money he had
stolen, or, as he preferred to call it,
borrowed. In vain he sat before pa
per, attending on inspiration. That
heavenly nymph, beyond suggesting
the words "my dear father, " remained
obstinately silent; and presently John
would crumple up the sheet and de-
eide, as soon as he had "a good
chance" to carry the money home in
person. And this delay, which is in
defensible, was his second step into
the snares of fortune.
Ten years had passed and John was
drawing near to thirty. He had
kept the promise of hiJ boyhood, and
was now of a lusty frame, verging
toward corpulence; good features,
good eyes, genial manner, o ready
laugh, long pair of sandy whiskers,
dash of an American accent, close
familiarity with the great American
joke, and a certain likeness to a
R-y-l P-rs-a-ge, who shall remain
nameless for me, made up the mans
externals as he could be viewed in
society. Inwardly, in spite of his
gross body and highly masculine
whiskers, he was more like a maiden
lady than man of twenty-nine.
1t CHANGED one day, as he was
strolling down Market street on the
eve Of his fortnight's holiday, that
his eye was caught by certain railway
bills, and in very idleness of mind he
calculated that he might be home for
Christmas if he started on the NOR
row. The fancy thrilled him with
desire, and in one moment he decided
he would go.
There was much to be done; his
portmanteau to be packed, credit to
be got from the bank, where he was
wealthy customer, and certain Of
fees to be transacted for that other
bank in which he was an humble
clerk; and it CHANGED, in conformity
with human nature, that out of all
this business it was the last that
came to be neglected. Night tornd
him not only equipped with money of
his own, but once more, as on that
former occasion, saddled with q con-
siderable sum of other peoples.
Now it CHANGED there lived in the
same clearinghouse a fellow-clerk
of his, an honest fellow, with what is
called a weakness for drink-though
it might, in this case, have been
called strength, for the victim had
been drunk for weeks together with
out the briefest intermission. To
this unfortunate John entrusted a
letter, with an enclosure OF bonds,
addressed to the bank manager.
Even as he did so he thought he per-
ceived certain haziness of eye and
speech in his trustee; but he was too
hopeful to be stayed, silenced the
voice of warning in his bosom, and
with one and the same gesture COM
mitted the money to the clerk, and
himself into. the hands Of destiny,
j dwell, even at the risk of tedium,
on Johns minutest errors, his case
! being so perplexing to the moralist
but we have done with them now, the
rcll is closed, the reader has the
worst of our poor hero, and l leave
him to Judge for himself whether he
or John has been the less deserving
Henceforth we have to follow the
spectacle Of a man who was a mere
whiptop for calamity; on whose un-
merited misadventures not even the
humorist can look without pity, and
not even the philosopher without
alarm.
That same night the clerk entered
upon bout of drunkenness so con
sistent as to surprise even his init.
mate acquaintance. He was speed.
lily elected from the clearinghouse
deposited his portmanteau with a
/