When that crisis came, he would fall to rise no more.
Ten days only remained, and then there would come a succession of payments, amounting in all to over five thousand dollars.

To meet these payments unaided, would be impossible; and there was no one now to aid the reduced and sinking merchant.

There was not a friend to whom he could go for aid so substantial as was now required, for most of his business friends had already suffered to some extent by his failure, and were not in the least inclined to risk anything farther on one whose position was known to be extremely doubtful.
The nearer this second crisis came, and the more distinctly Mr.
Howland was able to see its painful features, the more did his heart shrink from encountering a disaster that would involve all his worldly affairs in hopeless ruin.
In this strait, the mind of Mr.Howland kept turning, involuntarily, toward his son Edward, as toward the only resource left him on the earth; but ever as it turned thus, something in him revolted at the idea, and he strove to push it from his thoughts.

He could not do this, however, for it was the straw on the surface of the waters in which he felt himself sinking.
Painfully, and with a sense of deep humiliation, did Mr.Howland at length bring himself up to the point of writing again to his son.

As everything depended on the effect of this second letter, he went down into a still lower deep of humiliation, and after representing in the most vivid colors the extremity to which he was reduced, begged him, if a spark of humanity remained in his bosom, to send him the aid he needed.
With a trembling hope did the father wait, day after day, for an answer to this letter.