1831
"RUIN certain, inevitable ruin!" exclaimed Charles Maxwell, his eyes rivetted in astonishment on the enormous sum total of a statement of claims against, and bonds and promissory notes due, by the large mercantile establishment of which he was the principal, which his faithful head-clerk, in the sorrow of his heart had, after "labour some petition," wrung from his master his hard consent to inspect. "The amount almost exceeds belief! Can it be possible ! Stay, perhaps I am unnecessarily alarmed; affairs may not be so bad as they appear—I may discover an error in the addition: all of us are liable to mistakes; and Ledger, correct as he always is, may this time have made a slip." Elated with the hope of detecting a blunder, the young merchant, planting his hands on his temples, resting his elbows on the table by which he was sitting, and luxuriously extending his legs to their full length, resolutely set about summing up the long list of items that lay exposed before him. While pursuing his voyage of discovery, we shall take occasion, in anticipation of the inquiries that the laudable curiosity of the reader may be prompted to make, relative to the person whom we have introduced to notice, to state, that Charles Maxwell was just of age; and that he had received a good education in the first place, from his father, and afterwards a very handsome allowance, by which he was enabled to keep what is called good society, whilst the old gentleman stuck close to the counting-house and the Exchange, and kept "all right." But when he died, his son, taking a wider range, neglected the business, and left the whole of his mercantile affairs to his clerks; and the consequence was, that in less than two years he was on the eve of figuring in the Gazette.
"Right, right to a fractions" exclaimed our hero, after having, with considerable difficulty, added up the melancholy inventory of debts, "'tis plain I'm ruined beyond redemption; and that I must first see myself Gazetted, and then reduced to beggary, who have never experienced the misery of an ungratified wish. What the devil shall I do?"
"Did you call," asked a gentle voice, which seemed to proceed from the more dusky corner of the apartment.
"Who, in the name of fate, are you?" demanded the unhappy youth, looking round in search of the individual from whom the inquiry had proceeded. "Precisely so," replied a stout short middle aged gentleman, of a somewhat saturnine complexion, as he advanced from—we can't exactly say where—into the middle of the room. He was clad in black, had a loose Geneva cloak, as an upper garment, of the same colour, and carried a large bundle of black-edged papers, tied with black tape, under his arm. Without the smallest ceremony, he placed a chair opposite our hero, bowed, seated himself, smiled, laid his papers on the table, rubbed his hands, and appeared altogether prepared for business. Maxwell felt somewhat embarrassed at the easy familiarity of the stranger, but returned his bow with all due civility; and, after a brief awkward pause, ventured to inquire the name of the gentleman whom he had the honour of addressing.
"It is of little moment," answered his extraordinary visitor, "you are in difficulties, and it is in my power to assist you;" and he began to untie and "sort out" his papers on the table. Poor Maxwell looked on in silence, supposing the intruder had got wind of the critical situation of his affairs, and was going to exhibit some startling claim against his establishment; and, sighing, bethought himself that if he had been as constant in his attendance at the counting-house and Exchange, as he had been at races, billiard-tables, and gambling-houses, he might have been spared the mortification and shame the stranger was preparing for him. "I may as well," thought he, "to save trouble, tell him the truth at once, that my assets will not yield more than six pence in the pound." "You need not trouble yourself to do that, sir," said the visiter.
"To do what, sir?" interrogated Maxwell, "I did not say anything."
"I know that, my dear sir," said the Gentleman in Black, still busying himself with his papers, "but it is just the same thing." "What is just the same thing? I don't at all comprehend you!" exclaimed the youth. "Precisely so," continued the stranger; "there they are, all correct, I believe. So, my dear sir, as you were saying—"
