University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

There are periods in our existence when the
accumulated transgressions of years revive in
a moment, and overwhelm us with dismay.
“Little Fanny” is dead; and Barclay and his
wife, in speechless agony, sit beside her cradle.
Sally is gathering up the scattered “toys” with
which she last played, and sighing piteously
that her little charge is no more. She wets
her cold face, to preserve, if possible, her natural
appearance; for Mr. Flash has gone for an
artist to take a miniature of the dead child.
There is a smile upon her mouth, and her placid
features plainly indicate that she has “got
home.”

“Sweet baby!” exclaims the frantic mother,
“how could I leave you to enjoy life away
from your presence?”

“Say not so,” said the father. “Hepsy, your
unfaithfulness only adds to my grief; for we

have both sinned against this lovely child, and
no wonder she is now taken from us. Have
I not a cup overflowing with sorrow? There
is no hope for me either here or hereafter,”
reasoned the conscience-stricken man; “for I
have been unfaithful to my duties for years.”

“No, husband, you have not,” said the wife,
soothingly; “you have ever been indulgent
and kind to me; and if you have been an enemy
to any one, that was yourself.”

Barclay's pent-up feelings now broke forth
afresh.

“An enemy to myself? I was first one to
you, wife, then to my children, then to my
business, and always to myself. Had I but
remained in that little, humble shop, where I
first commenced business, and housekeeping
above it, in those low but pleasant apartments,
I should not have been disgraced by a failure!
Had I not been foolishly ambitious to secure a
large house, an expensive style of living, and to
incur great risks in business to support it, we
should not have been now at board! Had I

not been unnecessarily indulgent to you, that I
might secure your pleasure, I should not have
been so unfaithful to my parental relations!
And this, Hepsy, produces my greatest misery.
I date it far back—to the first false step when
I left the simplicity in which I was educated
to be happy. But our little one is gone, and I
am a ruined man!” were the incoherent, choked
sentences which often fell upon Mrs. Barclay's
ear.

In this suicidal frame of mind—amid her
husband's ravings—think you, kind reader, no
slumbering consciousness was awakened in her
heart, who could retrace every step of this
downward course to herself? Had she not
encouraged, perhaps first inspired the love of
style in her husband? Did she not complain,
years ago, of the disparity in which she was
held by her acquaintances, because she inhabited
so cheap a house, even when he could afford
to maintain a better style, as he was now
known as “R. Barclay, commission-merchant?”
And when she at length attained her hopes,

and removed into one of the most elegant, commodious,
and expensive houses in the city, and
men-servants and maid-servants “came and
went at her bidding,” did she not complain of
“cares and trials,” and fret out existence until
she left that home, and carried her purpose?
yes! the unwise purpose of boarding! And
when she and “dear Cousin Fanny” so long
sought for a place where she might find a home
free from all life's wearying cares, did she not
sometimes wish, yes, half wish, that the children
might be put away under the care of some judicious
person, that she might have perfect ease
and liberty? And now one is removed! Her
heart acknowledged the justice of the decree.
But the artist has come, and with him Mr.
Flash, who most kindly offers every service
he can render to the afflicted parents.

Barclay's heart is softened, and he is prompted
to take his friend Caleb aside and divulge
all his trials to him; so little do we know
what a change excessive sorrow will work in
us. But last night, in his confused and agitated

state, the thought of revealing to Caleb
Flash what he is now about to do would have
been rejected with disdain. Bond possibly
might have been a private counselor; but no
other being on earth. Now he feels the “weakness
of his own strength;” and Caleb, the kindhearted
and facetious fellow-boarder, who is
always a favorite wherever he goes, has won
Barclay's confidence! He is just the person
to whom secrets may be safely intrusted; for
he has a whole soul, a large acquaintance with
the world, a ready smile or tear as the occasion
suggests, and, on all proper occasions, as
we have seen, a flow of wit which never
wounds the most sensitive being; and, more
than all other weighty reasons why Barclay
should place confidence in him, he is a temperance
man! Total abstinence is written upon
his countenance and advocated by his speech.

Barclay asks an interview at four o'clock in
the afternoon of this very day with Mr. Flash.
It takes place, and he discloses all his affairs.
To use Caleb's expression, when he came to

the sentence, “and to-morrow I shall fail,” “it
went like a bowie-knife through his heart!”
But then he saw commiseration was not the
language he must use; it should only be the
bright rays of hope, for despair seemed to have
gained the pre-eminence.

But the little child in the placid sleep of
death powerfully neutralized the proud heart
of Barclay, as it respected what the world
would say when his business should be suspended.
And who should perform the funeral
service? was the next question; and could the
corpse be removed below stairs when prayers
were offered? Barclay and his wife for some
months past had not attended public worship;
and Caleb suggested that his friend, the Rev.
Dr. P., should read the service of the Episcopal
Church. But one objection was made:
Mrs. Barclay preferred that Mr. Milnor, Fanny's
intended husband, should officiate; but, as
he was invited to be present, and Cousin Fanny
had already come to take a last look upon her
little namesake, the objection was overruled.

The day of the funeral was dark and rainy.
It was an occasion, however, of respectful
sympathy in the hotel. All Barclay's friends,
and the ladies who so lately had found in their
new acquaintance, Mrs. Barclay, a woman with
whom most were pleased, were present in the
long dining-room, where prayers were read.
Caleb seated himself between the two boys,
John and Charles Barclay, having superintended
with Sally their suit of mourning. At
the close of the several petitions used in the
prayer-book “for the burial of the dead,” a responsive
“amen” was audibly heard from a female
voice! It came from the bishop's widow,
who boarded at Mrs. Shortt's with Barclay
and his wife. The good rector undoubtedly
waited upon his friend, little understanding
how haughtily she had aforetime conducted
herself as a fellow-boarder at Madame Shortt's!
But the funeral was soon over. Little Fanny
was placed in the receiving tomb, to be conveyed
to that “garden of graves” (Mount Auburn)
as soon as the spring appears; and Caleb,

with his characteristic generosity, has
begged the privilege of erecting a little stone
there, simply inscribing upon it “Fanny.”

The death of this little child is of small account
to the busy world; its funeral was unheeded
by the passers by; it was no subject
over which we ought to mourn. But are we
not sometimes struck with what we term the
dark and mysterious ways of Providence,
which, in the end, produce light and clear the
path of duty? No event, therefore, is really
small whose results can be traced to such momentous
issues!

The rumor that Barclay's notes were “protested”
flew with electric speed through the
business community. It was not alone the
sufferers by the failure who felt an interest in
the event. Men talked of it who had long
known him; and some accounted for it in the
fact that his habits had changed of late; that
he had been “a disappointed man in his domestic
relations,” and that “oyster suppers
never added to the value of a man's credit

when they were washed away with the exhilarating
glass!” Others, too, had known of
his speculating propensity of late. One broker
had been heard to say he could tell of a merchant
that was “prodigiously sucked in” when
fancy stocks were quoted at a “downward
tendency.” All these rumors gained strength
as they flew, and before night it was currently
reported that Robert Barclay had failed for
three hundred thousand; and some of the
“knowing ones” anticipated it from his extravagances,
bad habits, and extensive speculation
in certain nameless “stocks,” which
may well be termed “fancy” until they assume
some fixed value.

Holman the lawyer had executed a deed
from “Barclay to Bond” within a month past,
conveying his dwelling-house to the latter; and
Mrs. Barclay had signed it just before she went
to the — Hotel to board. But as she always
gave all property affairs into her husband's
hands, she thought nothing of the circumstance.
These and other reports entirely

untrue were superadded to the list, and “Robert
Barclay” was not a name in as good repute
as formerly. But, although Barclay had
supposed much surprise would be the consequence
of his failure, he had no suspicion that
the title of “a speculator,” or of a man who
had yielded to an appetite for “strong drink,”
had ever attached to him; for, in all his lamentations
to his intimate friends, he carefully
suppressed what had now become the most
notorious part of his history, from the fact that
he was once so clear-headed, so excellent a
judge of all marketable goods in the manufacturer's
line, and knew so well what varieties
would suit foreign markets! Is not this another
instance that those who use the glass too freely
suppose for a long time every body is ignorant
of the fact but themselves?

The day of the first development of one's
ruin to the world, in a business point of view,
is, perhaps, one of the most trying of our life.
There is, to be sure, “the fearful looking for” of
the days of anticipated calamity, and the agonizing

nights, when every expedient is thought
over to avert it; but the day which actually
crushes the sensitive man, and makes him feel
as if his doom is sealed, is “when his notes are
protested, and he stands forth in the community
as a bankrupt!”

On the day of this announcement neither Barclay
nor his wife was present at the ladies' ordinary.
Flash, it was currently rumored, was
in the secret of Barclay's affairs; and this piece
of information was afterward traced to Sally
the nursery woman, who overheard some conversation,
and communicated it to some of the
ladies in the house, who kindly invited her to
their rooms to inquire more particularly about
little Fanny's death and Mrs. Barclay's health!

Caleb, of course, was interrogated as if he
knew; but had they known him, it would have
suppressed all questionings at once. He vindicated
his friends as far as a prudent man
could do so, and thus many mistakes were corrected,
which put a better face upon things;
for Barclay was not half as bad a man as he

was represented. Well did old Miss Widdifield
afterward remark, “Failures and deaths
lay a man's character bare.”

And now the surmises began, that “Barclay
might save a little fortune yet” out of such immense
liabilities; that he had “an old head, and
had made a sudden crash;” and not a few suggested,
were they his creditors, they should not
feel in a hurry to settle for fifty cents on a dollar!

Flash heard all these remarks in the world,
and they really gave him a renewed interest
in the man. He had already formed a plan
which he intended to propose to Barclay when
the “nine days' wonder” had ceased. But his
first work was to get him out as a man, and
make him hold up his head as such.

He was first seen at the table among the
fellow-boarders, and next in his counting-house.
It was in his heart fully to reform himself
from the day he left his little child in yonder
tomb! This determination, as soon as known,
invariably secures friends, and when it is connected
with a transparent integrity and an honest

surrender, creditors will not long remain
inexorable. But it is the work of time to produce
restoration to one's character and fortune.
Let us hear some of Barclay's reasoning with
his friend Flash.

“I intend,” he says, “to be an honest man;
to suppress nothing; for, since the affair is
known, I really feel better. There is a relief
when the Rubicon is passed. Now I can give
a bow and a cordial shake of the hand to my
next-door neighbors, assured of their sympathy,
if I but act as a man; and, to do this, I am
aware that I must immediately reduce my style
of living; this luxurious table and high board
ill comport with my circumstances; and, besides,
it is no place to educate boys like mine.”

“I know it all,” said Caleb; “but already at
our table I count more than a dozen bankrupts,
who are safely ashore on the continent of contentment.
I only speak of this, because they
are so apt to comment upon others, who have
more recently than themselves got aground, as
old Ingersoll used to say.

That evening our friends met again in Barclay's
parlor. Caleb desired Mrs. Barclay's
presence, and Cousin Fanny's, if she wished to
hear some “good news.” It had been so long
since cheerfulness had been upon Mr. Barclay's
brow, that now it seemed as if it gave him a
new attraction.

“As I was in my office to-day,” resumed
Caleb, “a gentleman entered, who is a large
shareholder in a certain corporation, whose
credit exceeds that of any bank. He inquired
of me if I knew a man capable of being over-seer
in a large cotton-mill. I asked him the
qualifications. He replied, `Honesty, temperance,
and a business capacity are all the requisites.'
`And what salary?' `Twelve hundred
a year,' was the reply, `and the use of a
house belonging to the corporation.' `Have
you good schools there?' `Yes, plenty of
them; academies, public schools, and private
ones.' `Is there good female society there?'
`Yes,' retorted my friend; `you can procure a
wife worth having any day—a real domestic,

home-loving woman, Mr. Flash.' I told him,
then, I knew such a man; for my mind at once
reverted to you, Mr. Barclay; and shall I secure
such a place for you? It must be decided
to-morrow, and the services will commence
April first.”

“Gratitude is a poor word in return for such
a favor,” replied Barclay; and Mrs. Barclay
wiped a tear as she uttered a feeble but heartfelt
“I'm sure it is, Mr. Flash.”

“I shall only regret your presence,” said
Barclay, “in our midst; but as the cars can
convey you to our door” (for, it seems, Barclay
knew the very spot), “we shall not feel that
we have lost you as a neighbor.”

The day after this unexpected good fortune
was fixed for Cousin Fanny's wedding-day!
It was a simple service, performed at her own
home; and Caleb, still a generous, kind-hearted
soul, accepted an invitation, procured a carriage,
and took with him Mr. and Mrs. Barclay,
and the two boys.

“Fanny Milnor” has long since repented

that she ever suggested to Hepsy Barclay the
plan of “boarding out;” for she has learned,
better than ever, to urge a woman to pursue a
course so directly opposed to her husband's
wishes; but she often quotes the line from her
favorite author Pope,

Not long since, Caleb and Mr. and Mrs.
Milnor met at Mr. Barclay's residence at
L—. Barclay had just returned from the
city, where he had effected a settlement with
one of his most uncompromising creditors. It
was a happy meeting. Temperance, order,
and “domestic peace” seemed to have made
their abode in this dwelling; and old Polly is
once more returned to her former master and
mistress, because her health demanded her to
leave the city. Mrs. Barclay never complains
of her “cares” in housekeeping; she
has, however, dispensed with Sally, the nursery
woman. John and Charles go to the academy,
and are promising boys; and if ever a

murmur is heard in the family, it is instantly
checked, as Mrs. Barclay is reminded of
“Boarding Out!”