The Central Glamorgan Gazette, and General, Commercial, and Agricultural Advertiser. — 1882-04-28 (Bridgend, Mid Glamorgan, Wales)

CHAPTER XLIII. THZ ORZAT BLANKSIMUI amt. The news of the failure of the Went Blankshire Bank spread rapidly, and the terrible line on the contents bill ox the evening papers had a dread significance for hundreds. To many a home it was the keno(' of ruinnutl despair. The Great Blat.kshire Bank had been established for years, and %C 44 looked upon an a model of Labilhiy and sound finance. it was one of those old-fashioned banks, in which the liability isunlimited, but its shares were reckoned as good asßunk of England notes. People venal:is soon have expected to hear of Rothschild pawning his watch to get a dinner as that the li coat 131ankLitre Hank hid come to grief. The liabilities were enormou.; but the first thought was for the unhappy shareholders. The depositors wcre safe. They would, be paid to the uttermost farthing. The loss would strip the shareholders to the skin, and their garments would be divided among the creditors. No wonder the unhappy people on whom the blow fell reeled beneath the force of it. It was so sudden, so crushing, that it wrung something like a cry of agony from the victims. Men who in the morning were prosperous citizens sought their couches that night with bankruptcy staring them in the face. \V ell-to-do tradesmen, whose business gave them no uneasiness, and who believed themselves male o ad commercial disasters, found themselves saduenly called upon to part with the whole of their cep• tel and trade as beet they could on an empty exehtquer. On all classes of the community the blow fell heavily, but most cruelly, perhaps, on men who had, aCer a long and laborious career, retired with the fruits of their honest industry, hoping to spend the remainder of their days in ease and comfort. It was after tea on the fatal evening, and Mr. Adrian was deep in his favourite volumes, his wife and daughter and little Genie sitting in their accustomed places. A man passed along the quiet street shouting some thing. All they hefted at first wasp—, " Speehid 'dition." " What are '"  for o-night, I  they crying the papers wonder?" said Mrs. Adrian, lifting her head from her work and listening. "Some catchpenny, I suppose," answered her husband. "A fearful murder in America, I expect, or a great earthquake in Van Diemen's Land. Listen I" The man was coming nearer and nearer. Presently he seemed to be opposite their door. They could almost hoar the words shouted in the harsh broken voice of the London street hawker,— " Speshul 'dition ! Pank city ! Failure Great Blankshur Bank !" John Adrian doubted his ears. He had not caught the slurred words aright. He started up from his chair, his face palo and his limbs trembling, and almost ran to the front door. The man was passing. He hailed him and took a paper. He banded him the first coin in his pocket. it was a shilling. In his excitement he clutched the japer and closed the door, never waiting for his  change. With trembling hands he unfolded the paper, and scanned the contents in the flickering light of tho ball lamp. There was no need to look far. 'There it was in huge letters—letters of flame that scared hie heart : "