My Gold was not there.
CHAPTER V.
IN WHICH PHIL MORALIZES OVER HIS LOSS, AND HEARS FROM ST. LOUIS.
The bag which had contained my gold was distended as though the treasure were still there; but it was light, and I was satisfied that it contained nothing more substantial than paper. I need not say that a feeling akin to horror chilled the very blood in my veins, for without this money it seemed to me that all my plans would be defeated. I could not travel in Europe without it. I could not even purchase the steamer ticket for which I had spoken.
Grief, despair, and even shame, overwhelmed me, and I dropped into my chair utterly disconsolate for the moment. I held the bag in my hand, and felt that the solid, substantial hopes with which I had cheered and gladdened my soul had suddenly changed into airy phantoms. My gold had become waste paper. If I ever felt like using wicked language, it was then; but I thank God I did not profane his name, and pollute my own lips by any uttered word of irreverence. But I did feel as though God had forgotten and deserted me; as though he had cruelly and unreasonably mocked my hopes. Yet these thoughts were but the momentary spasm of a disappointed soul, and I trembled when I realized that such wickedness was in my heart.
God had given me all that I was and all that I had. What I had lost was not the half even of my worldly wealth, and it was impious to repine, though but for an instant. When I weighed this handful of gold against all my other blessings, against my Christian father, who prayed for me morning and night, and against the good I had been permitted to do for myself and others, the treasure was but a trifle. If it had cost me two years to save it, I was thankful that it was not the only saving of that precious period.
I rebuked myself severely for the wicked thoughts which had been engendered by my misfortune, and tried to take a more reasonable view of the loss I had sustained. I thanked God for all his mercies, and asked for strength to sustain me in this new trial. Having conquered the rebellious thoughts which the loss occasioned, I opened the bag, and attempted to fathom the mystery of its emptiness. There was nothing in it but an old newspaper rolled up into a ball. That was the only fact I had to work with. The bag had contained fifteen hundred dollars in ten and twenty dollar gold pieces when I left St. Louis; and the money was all right when I counted it on board of the steamer.