The various mischances and afflictions, as narrated in the preceding chapter, which rewarded my virtue, had begun to affect my mind with sundry pangs of melancholy and misgiving. I perceived that the world _was_ ungrateful, and I had my doubts whether it was a whit the better for my goodness. These doubts and this persuasion were confirmed by the experience of each succeeding day; and by the month of September as aforesaid, I found myself becoming just as miserable a man as I had ever been before, and perhaps more so, being pierced not merely with the ingratitude of those I had befriended, but convinced that the unworthiness of man was a thing man was determined to persevere in. It was at the moment of my greatest distress, that the catastrophe alluded to before happened; and this was nothing less than the sudden bankruptcy of Abel Snipe, whereby I was reduced in a moment from affluence to destitution; and what made the calamity still more painful, was a conviction forced upon me by my own reflections, as well as the representations of others, that the failure could not have happened without a fraudulent design on the part of the fiduciary. It is true, this worthy gentleman was the first to inform me of his mishap, which he did with tears in his eyes, and with divers outbreaks of self-accusation and despair; he declared that his imprudence had ruined me, his benefactor, and implored me, his benefactor, to knock him on the head with a poker I had begun to embrace in my agitation; but how he had effected such a catastrophe I could not bring him clearly to explain. The only answers I could get from him were, "Speculation, speculation--bad speculation!--ruined my benefactor! might as well have murdered thee!" and so on; and having given vent to some dozen or more of such frantic interjections, he ran out of the house. Enter Jonathan the very next moment. The sight of him renewed my grief; he, poor youth, was ruined as well as myself, yet not wholly; for, as good luck would have it, I had, a week or two before, after long cogitation on the subject, resolved to marry him to the maid Ellen Wild, and so secure his happiness more certainly than, it appeared to me, it could be secured by a life of philanthropy. To effect this desirable purpose I bestowed upon him the only property which I had not thought fit to put into Abel Snipe's hands, being the new house I was then building, promising also to add a sum of money, as soon as it could be conveniently withdrawn from the concern. He received the gift and the promise with much joy and gratitude, but betrayed surprising indifference on the score of matrimony, saying that he was in no great hurry, and in fact giving me to understand that there was a difference between him and the maiden. "Jonathan," said I, as soon as I saw him, "thee is a ruined young man. Abel has broken."