I THE STORY OF A RUINED LIFE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 9581, 4 August 1894, Page 2 (Supplement)

I THE STORY OF A RUINED LIFE.

A sad story, in some respects resembling that of Timon of Athena, is told by the Sb. Petersburg correspondent of a London contemporary, apropos of a funeral which recently took place in the Russian capital. The plain wooden coffin conveyed to the poor people's section of one of the cemeteries, contained the mortal remains of one who had at one time been a power in St. Petersburg, a well-known manufacturer, a millionaire, who scattered money to the right and to the left, doing many a generous deed never known or long since forgotten. Yet V there was no priest to recite the last prayers, no mourners to shed a tear over the relative or friend who had passed away the gravediggers lowered the wooden box, hurriedly shovelled in the earth, stamped on the grave, and all was over. A dog or a rabbit might have been thus pub out of sight." Such an end was, however, the result of the man's own actions, deliberately undertaken as revenge for the ingratitude of thoss nearest and dearest to him. Years ago, in the very heigth of his prosperity, the rich - man became so ill that his death seemed at the utmost a matter of only a few months. He made a will in favour of his wife and children, and though he recovered sufficiently to move to a watering-place, not even his own family ever thought of him except as a dying man. He appointed a young man who owed him a debt of the deepest gratitude director of his works, and left St. Petersburg alone. At the end of six months, to the amazement of all, he returned home completely restored to health, only to find that in his absence his wife and the young director had deceived him, and the former had succeeded in turning his children against their father. The woman had anticipated the course of action she had intended to pursue in the event of his expected death, and as that did nob happen, she demanded a largo yearly allowance for herself, her lover, and her children. Disdaining the redress which the law would doubtless have afforded him, for the facts were beyond dispute, the rich man sought revenge for his wounded honour in a manner none the less complete because it was a matter of some time. Without uttering a word of complaint or reproach he first dismissed the young director, and then calling his book-keeper into his room, he said':—;'. \ "Now, look here. You know what has taken place, but you don't know how it has affected me. The '.pair' counted on my death and were disappointed. They now reckon on my riches, and I wish them to be disappointed still more. • As long as I possess anything I must make them an allowance. Therefore I want to possess nothing. If I squander my money they will apply to the courts to have me declared non compon mentis, and trustees will be appointed to loot after everything, and that, of course, is not what I want. Now listen. I am the sole owner of the works, etc., and I can do what I like with my own, and I want you to exert yourself to bring everything to rack and ruin so that suddenly the whole concern will burst and leave nothing but dust behind. Mind now, nothing must be loft. Enrich yourself, let the cashiers enrich themselves, don't forget the workmen ; do just what you like, I will second you ; but let the end be as I desire." These instructions were carried out conscientiously and literally, and for two years he paid his wife her stipulated allowance. At the end of that time the inevitable crash came, with a completeness which may be imagined. " He called a meeting of his cashiers book-keeper," foremen, and his wife and children. The latter were convinced that his object was to hand over the works to them, for ho had more than once given them to understand as much, saying, ' Take everything, I want nothing now.' He opened the meeting by asking his cashiers for their reports. They declared the works to be so heavily in debt that it would be criminal to keep them going any longer on credit. 'Very well, go at once to the court,' he said to his book-keeper, ' and report my insolvency.' His wife and children protested loudly and indignantly. But he was inexorable, and six months later everything was sold for a song." ; The man, now penniless, then announced to his family that the time had come for them to separate. His wife could go and live with Her lover and the children could take refuge with her. As for himself, he donned some shabby clothes, took a wallet and a staff and left the house for ever without another word. Ever since that day he remained a sileab beggar, living on the crusts of charity. His wife died in misery long ago, and within the last few weeks the former millionaire found the pauper's grave, for which he had sought so long, while the details of his later life, hitherto unknown, ' formed a nine days' wonder in the high society in St. Petersburg in which he once was a prominent figure.