“These thoughts of self would obtrude in the very beginning of a letter I had destined for other objects. You ask me for a narrative of my journey and its accidents, and you shall have it. On my way over here in the packet, I made acquaintance with an elderly man, who seemed thoroughly acquainted with all the circumstances of the Martins and their misfortunes. From him I ascertained that all Scanlan had told me was perfectly correct. The reversion of the estate has been sold for a sum incredibly small in proportion to its value, and in great part the proceeds of gambling transactions. Martin is, therefore, utterly, irretrievably ruined. Merl has taken every step with all the security of the best advice, and in a few months, weeks perhaps, will be declared owner of Cro' Martin. Even in the 'fast times' we live in, such rapid ruin as this stands alone! You tell me that of your own college and mess associates not more than one in five or six have survived the wreck of fortune the first few years of extravagance accomplish, and that Manheim, Brussels, and Munich can show the white-seamed, mock-smartened-up gentilities which once were the glories of Bond Street and the Park; but for poor Martin, I suspect, even these last sanctuaries do not remain,—as I hear it, he is totally gone.
“From the very inn where I am staying Merls agents are issuing notices of all kinds to the tenants and 'others' to desist and refrain from cutting timber, quarrying marbles, and what not, on certain unspeakable localities, with threats in case of non-compliance. Great placards cover the walls of the town, headed 'Caution to all Tenants on the Estate of Cro' Martin.' The excitement in the neighborhood is intense, overwhelming. Whatever differences of political opinion existed between the Martins and the people of the borough, whatever jealousies grew out of disparity of station, seemed suddenly merged in sympathy for this great misfortune. They are, of course, ignorant of the cause of this sudden calamity, and ask each other how, when, and where such a fortune because engulfed.
“But to proceed regularly. On my reaching Dublin, after a hurried visit to my father, I drove off to Mr. Repton's house. You may remember his name as that of the old lawyer, some of whose bar stories amused you so highly. I found him in a spacious mansion of an old neglected street,—Henrietta Street,—once the great aristocratic quarter of Ancient Dublin, and even to this day showing traces of real splendor. The old man received me in a room of immense proportions, furnished as it was when Flood was the proprietor. He was at luncheon when I entered; and for company had the very same stranger with whom I made acquaintance in the packet.
“Repton started as we recognized each other, but at a sign or a word, I'm not certain which, from the other, merely said, 'My friend was just speaking of his having met you, Mr. Massingbred.' This somewhat informal presentation over, I joined them, and we fell a chatting over the story of Cro' Martin.
“They were both eager to hear something about Merl, his character, pursuits, and position; and you would have been amazed to see how surprised they were at my account of a man whose type we are all so familiar with.
“You would scarcely credit the unfeigned astonishment manifested by these two shrewd and crafty men at the sketch I gave them of our Hebrew friend. One thing is quite clear,—it was not the habit, some forty or fifty years ago, to admit the Merls of the world to terms of intimacy, far less of friendship.
“'As I said, Repton,' broke in the stranger, sternly, 'it all comes of that degenerate tone which has crept in of late, making society like a tavern, where he who can pay his bill cannot be denied entrance. Such fellows as this Merl had no footing in our day. The man who associated with such would have forfeited his own place in the world.'
“'Very true,' said Repton, 'though we borrowed their money we never bowed to them.'
“'And we did wisely, sir,' retorted the other. 'The corruption of their manners was fifty times worse than all their usury! The gallant Hussar Captain, as we see here, never scrupled about admitting to his closest intimacy a fellow not fit company for his valet. Can't you perceive that when a man will descend to such baseness to obtain money, there is no measuring the depth he will go to when pressed to pay it?'
“'I am intimate with Martin,' said I, interrupting, 'and I can honestly assure you that it was rather to an easy, careless, uncalculating disposition he owes his misfortunes, than to anything like a spendthrift habit.'