Soon he found, to his horror, that he had seen but a small percentage of
the distress his father had caused; the greater griefs, as usual, stayed
at home. Behind the gadding woes lay a terrible number of silent, decent
ruined homes and broken hearts, and mixed sorrows so unmerited, so
complicated, so piteous, and so cruel, that he was ready to tear his
hair, to know them and not be able to relieve them instantly.
Of that mere sample I give a mere sample: divine the bulk then; and
revolve a page of human history often turned by the people, but too
little studied by statisticians and legislators.
Mr. Esgar, a respectable merchant, had heavy engagements, to meet which
his money lay at the old bank. Living at a distance, he did not hear the
news till near dinner-time, and he had promised to take his daughters to
a ball that night. He did so; left them there; went home, packed up their
clothes and valuables, and next day levanted with them to America, taking
all the money he could scrape together in London, and so he passed his
ruin on to others. Esgar was one of those who wear their honesty long but
loose: it was his first disloyal act in business.
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