RUINED!
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"The man is ruined — hopelessly ruined!"
The words startled me.
"So bad as that?" said the individual to whom the remark was made.
"Even so bad."
"Of whom are you speaking?" I ventured to ask.
"Of Jacob Atwood."
I startled to my feet. He was one of my old, intimate, and long-tried friends.
"Ruined, did you say? That man ruined! Impossible!"
"There is no doubt of it. I received my information from those who have the best right to know."
"What has he done?" I asked, eagerly.
My question was received in silence, as if the meaning were not clearly apprehended.
"Is he a defaulter?"
"No."
The answer showed surprise at my question.
"Has he betrayed an honorable trust reposed in him by his fellow-men?"
"No, sir; his integrity is without question. In all his public relations, he was as true as steel to principle."
"What then? Has he placed any portion of his property beyond the reach of creditors who have just claims upon him?"
"He has given up everything — even to the furniture of his house. Not a dollar has been retained, and he goes forth into the world, a ruined man."
"Oh no," said I, speaking out warmly. "Not in any sense a ruined man. The merchant may be ruined, but, thank God! the man is whole."
The little company looked at me, for a moment or two, half in surprise.
"The man is all right," I went on. "Only the scaffolding on which the workmen stood, who were building up his character, has fallen. Erect, calm, noble, half-divine, he stands, now, in the sunshine and in the storm. Around his majestic brow, the clouds may gather; upon it the tempests may beat; but he is immovable in his great integrity."
Some smiled at my enthusiasm. To them there was nothing of the moral sublime in a ruined merchant. Others looked a little more thoughtful than before; and one said feebly:
"There is something in that,"
Something in that! I would think there was.
It was the first intelligence I had received of my friend's worldly misfortunes, and it grieved me. In the evening I went to see Jacob Atwood. The windows of the elegant residence where he had lived for years, were closed. I looked up at the house — it had a deserted aspect. I rang the bell; no one answered my summons.
I could not repress the feeling of sadness that came over me. The trial must have been severe even for a brave heart like his.
"I must find him," said I. And I did find him; but far away from the neighborhood where merchant princes had their palace-homes. The house into which he had retired with his family looked small, and poor, and comfortless — in comparison with the elegant abode from which he had removed. I rang and was admitted. The parlor into which I was shown was a small room, and the furniture not much better than we often see in the houses of well-to-do mechanics, or clerks on moderate salaries. But everything was in order, and scrupulously neat.
I had made only a hurried observation, when Mr. Atwood entered. He looked something careworn — his face was paler than when I last saw him, his eyes a little duller, his smileless cheerful. The marks of trial and suffering were plainly visible. It would have been almost a miracle had it been otherwise. But he did not exhibit the aspect of a ruined man. He grasped my hand warmly, and said it was pleasant to look into the face of an old friend. I offered him words of sympathy.
"The worst is over," he answered, with manly cheerfulness, "and nothing is lost which may not be regained. I have found the bottom, know where I am, and there is strength enough left in me to stand up securely amid the rushing waters. The best of all is, my property, which has been apportioned to my creditors, will pay every debt. That gives my heart its lightest pulsations."
"I heard that you were ruined" said I, as we sat talking together; "but I find that the man is whole. Not a principle invaded by the enemy — not a moral sentiment lost — not a jewel in the crown of honor missing."
He took my hand, and grasping it hard, looked into my face steadily for some moments. Then, in a subdued voice, he made answer —
"I trust that it is even so, my friend. But there were seasons in the worse than Egyptian night through which I have passed, when the tempter's power seemed about to crush me. For myself,I cared little; for my wife and children, everything. The thought of seeing them go out from the pleasant home I had provided for them, and step down, far down to a lower level in the social grade, half distracted me for a time. For them, I would have braved everything but an evil deed, which is sin against God. I could not bow to that. And so I passed the fiery ordeal, and have come out through a more than human strength, I trust, a better man. No, no, no, my friend. I am not ruined. I have lost my fortune — but not myintegrity."
And so the man stood firm. It was not in the power of any commercial disaster to ruin him. The storm raged furiously; the waves beat madly against him; but he stood immovable, for his feet were upon solid rock!
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