A CIRRUS BECOMES A NIMBUS.
"Did you get me any letters, Manie?" asked Ratke as he met his
nieces, who were coming from the barns.
"Two of them," answered Manie.
"Maria," said Ratke, when they were in the dining-room, "get Mark
something for his cough. I am going into the sitting-room to read my
letters."
The first missive which the major opened bore a Washington postmark
and read as follows:
Washington, D. C., March 4, 187-
Mr. J. Ratke,
Break o'Day, Mich.
Dear Sir:--As the commissioner expresses doubt concerning
the practical value of your invention, I find it is difficult
to obtain a patent. I must receive fifty dollars before I
proceed further.
Respectfully yours,
F. B. Sackett.
"The leech!" muttered the major; "he would gorge himself with my
substance. But let me once get my Jerusalem wagon started, and I will
bid defiance to patent lawyers and creditors. What do I care for the
few drops the insect gets if their place will soon be supplied by a
liberal infusion which will send vigor through my veins?"
The contents of the second letter are given below.
Jackson, Mich., March 4, 187-.
Mr. J. Ratke,
Break o'Day, Mich.
Dear Sir: We spoke to Mr. Green about the matter which you
mentioned. He says he cannot postpone the foreclosure of the
mortgage a day.
Yours respectfully,
Collins & Joy.
The effect of the two communications was to produce an unwonted
depression in the major's spirits. It was as if a cloud of whose
existence he had been not ignorant, but to which he had been
inattentive, had suddenly by a warning bolt made him give heed to its
proximity.
No matter in which direction he turned, he could not find a way out
of the perplexing difficulty. Schemes which were his hope, his very
life, demanded money for their furtherance. His produce was sold, his
pocket-book empty, his credit gone. He realized his situation; and,
in the distance, he felt he saw, approaching, calamities which would
destroy his dearest projects and involve in ruin himself and his
household.
Mrs. Grippin interrupted these miserable reflections by saying, "He's
in here, William Henry Harrison, if you want to see him!"
The visitor was William Henry Harrison Hibbard, whose first three
names had been given him at his birth, applied in sport during his
boyhood, and used through habit when he had reached man's estate.
William Henry Harrison had fits; and these fits had reduced his mind,
if not to imbecility, to a state of intelligence considerably below
mediocrity. The spring before, the Republicans of Jefferson township
had, for want of better amusement, nominated him for constable; and
the Democrats had so far fallen in with the joke that, though they
had a large majority, the half-wit was elected.
William Henry Harrison was tall and slender, his mouth was large, and
his hair was light The most conspicuous part of his raiment was a
long, loose ducking jacket which was belted tightly about the waist,
and whose lower edges flared out from his body like an umbrella top.
As this was his most expensive article of clothing, and as he never
wore it except on important occasions, it was by the local wits
called his official coat.
"Well, William Henry Harrison," inquired the major, "do you have a
great deal to do as constable?"
"No, not 'nawful sight," answered William Henry Harrison.
"That was a fine run you made last spring," observed Ratke. "I
believe you beat Johnny Hemp?"
"Yes, I lick 'im. I run 'way 'head."
"Did you ever arrest anybody or serve a summons?" inquired Ratke.
"Dono, guess not," replied the half-wit.
"Probably not," said the major, half to himself. "In the machine of
law you are a pinion, whirled by the belts and pulleys of courts,
which are, in turn, propelled by the engine of legislation. But you
are satisfied with your condition, and that is more than can be said
of many who think themselves your superiors. Content, as you are,
with your lot, you may as well be a pinion as an engine."
"Yes," remarked William Henry Harrison, "engine might bust."
"By George!" exclaimed the major, "but there is wisdom in that. The
solid iron pinion can be broken only by external forces, while the
hollow engine may, itself, generate the power by which it is rent.
Likewise, the humble mind escapes those internal conflicts which
bring ruin to some of the mightier intellects. William Henry
Harrison, that, is the wisest remark I have heard in a month."
Upon this unusual compliment, the author of the saying so highly
praised grinned, covered his mouth with his hand and looked steadily
at Ratke for some minutes.
The major, tiring of the half-wit's scrutiny, had recourse to a
stratagem which seldom fails to remind a forgetful guest of the
object of his visit.
"Let me take your hat," he said.
"No," replied William Henry Harrison, taking his hand from his mouth.
"I no stay, Misser Green, he git mad."
"So you stay with Green yet," observed Ratke.
"Yes," answered the half-wit; "Misser Green, he git me new straw hat
I give you this paper."
"Oh, it is a paper you are serving on me!" exclaimed Ratke. "Make
Green give you your regular fee, and tell him that constables are not
obliged to take straw hats in payment for the performance of legal
duties."
The document proved to be a summons which had been issued by Justice
Lyman Sparks, in behalf of Josiah Green, who had purchased a note due
the Buckeye Manufacturing Co. of Marlboro, Ohio.
"Go back to Josiah Green," said the major, "and tell him that you
performed your errand. Tell him that I bound up his financial wounds
when the priest and the Levite passed him by. Tell him I lent him
money when his place was mortgaged for its full value, and no one
else would trust him. Tell him he owes me yet for a cow and wheat
which I let him have when his family was sick."
"I can't 'member so much," said William Henry Harrison, alarmed at
Ratke's vehemence. "Misser Green he whip. Oh! whip big."
"Halt," ordered the major, as the unique constable moved toward the
door. "You have been a faithful officer and you have earned your
supper. You must eat with me. Instead of making Green mad, it will
please him to think he is relieved from the expense of feeding you.
Maria rang the saw before you served the summons."
"But," said the half-wit, "I can't 'member that you say when mad."
"You need not try to remember it," was the major's answer. "You could
do so if you could once comprehend it, for you have no doubt a
preponderance of memory over the reflectives. Your mind is not
brilliant, and, when by accident you stumble upon a sensible
expression, it shines as forcibly as a bolt of lightning from the
darkened sky at midnight. Do you understand what I say?"
"No," answered William Henry Harrison.
"It is as well that you do not," commented Ratke. "I would rather you
would not understand all I say, because I want to talk, and I do not
wish to hurt your feelings. Now, I will tell you something which you
can understand, William Henry Harrison. To-day you have been a
smarter man than I have."
William Henry Harrison was so pleased with Ratke's approbation that,
at supper, he endeavored to obtain more of it by delivering some
witty speeches. Disappointed in receiving encouragement to continue
his remarks, he allowed his own appreciation of his sagacity to be
visible in several prolonged grins, the last of which was frozen by
one of Mrs. Grippin's frowns.
After the meal, as he stood irresolutely in the sitting-room, he
remarked, "I have fit purty soon. I tell."
"I will tell Trace to hitch up a horse and take you home," said
Ratke, hastily passing to the dining-room.
The major, returning, found William Henry Harrison on the floor, with
his limbs alternately contracting and expanding to their utmost
capacity. The half-wit's eyes were rolled back, his face contorted,
his figure writhing and twisting and his lips covered with froth. On
the floor about him were the fragments of a large mirror, which had
cut his hands in several places.
When William Henry Harrison had finished his first and last official
visit, Ratke observed, "The Buckeye Company agreed to wait a year for
that note. I wonder that so careful a man as Green should send such
an officer as William Henry Harrison."
"You needn't wonder," returned Mrs. Grippin. "He did it to be mean,
just to tantalize you. If it ain't legal, he'll send another man with
it. Oh, I would like to talk to Si Green a minute. I'd like to tell
him some things. If it hadn't been for you, he'd have starved and his
whole family. You can get mad if you want to, Nora. I know he's your
aunt's husband. But that don't make any difference. I should think
you'd be proud of him, a man that's got rich making cider. He's done
more harm in this neighborhood than he could do good if he should
live to be as old as Methuselah. Him, a member of the church, making
cider and selling it to get men drunk."
"I wonder how he found out about the note," said the major.
"It's that Phleet Takum," replied Mrs. Grippin. "He keeps posted on
your business better than you do. He has done a great deal to destroy
your credit."
"It is strange," remarked the major, "how a man of Philetus' ability
can do so much harm. I can explain it in no way except by the law of
virtual velocities: 'Power, multiplied by the distance through which
it moves, equals weight, multiplied by the distance through which it
moves.' To accomplish a given result, then, a man of half average
ability must move through twice the space, or, in other words, bestir
himself twice as much as an ordinary man. Here comes Trace. I must
see how he left William Henry Harrison."
Montcalm informed Ratke that he had left William Henry Harrison at
Green's gate, apparently none the worse for his fit.
"Do you know he is an officer of the law?" queried the major, as he
was unhitching a tug.
"No, is he?" ejaculated Montcalm.
"The Republicans and part of the Democrats of Jefferson township,"
said Ratke, "disgraced themselves by electing that poor idiot boy to
the office of constable. Today he made his first official visit."
"I am surprised," commented Montcalm.
"That is all I can tell you," said Ratke quickly, feeling that he had
already said too much. "To succeed in business a man must bridle his
tongue. If he gives a knowledge of his affairs to the gossips, he
places them before a double convex lens, which may converge the heat
of public scrutiny to melt his gold, as that metal is sometimes
melted at a powerful focus."
"I have no wish to pry into your affairs," replied Montcalm. "On the
contrary, I am opposed to receiving from you any confidence which you
may afterward regret."
"This much I can tell you. Trace," said Ratke. "The constable's
errand was not to perform a duty connected with criminal law."
"I felt assured of that," replied Montcalm. "You will never be
suspected of crime. I will care for this horse if you will tell me
how much grain to feed him."
It often happens that a skillful investigator will by professed
indifference lull suspicions of his art and extract much information
which by any other means he would be unable to obtain. This is what
was done by Montcalm. Ratke thought that he had been boorish with the
son of his old comrade. He would atone for his surliness by a partial
explanation.
"This is a civil matter," he remarked, "a little debt which I owe and
which I thought would not be presented for collection in a year."
"You have been hardly fair with me," said Montcalm.
"You have not allowed me to do the chores enough to learn them. How
much grain do you feed this horse?"
"Never mind the horse," exclaimed Ratke impatiently. "You do not seem
to like to listen to me, Trace. I have been sued by Green. He has
bought a note of twenty dollars against me. Not that it is anything
serious, but some other things unite with it to make up a combination
which promises me trouble. The farm is sold on the mortgage in July."
"Your Jerusalem wagon ought to help you out," said Montcalm.
"Oh," replied Ratke. "If I could get my wagon into the market, I
could pay for my farm. If I could pay for my farm, I could get my
wagon into the market. Both are wedged in the narrow passage of
fatality, each waiting to be extricated by help from the other.
To-day I received a letter from my patent lawyer, stating that he
must have fifty dollars or he could not proceed further with the
business. I bought a cow of Osborne for thirty dollars and I agreed
to get her in two weeks. I can muster not more than twenty-five
dollars with which to meet these sums, I own a farm, the Barton
hundred and sixty, which is east of the county line and which is
unencumbered. I might mortgage that, but I hate to do it."
"Is that the extent of your trouble?" asked Montcalm. "I can lend you
one hundred dollars. Last week I got my quarterly dividend on a
one-thousand-dollar share of stock."
"One thousand dollars!" cried the major. "One thousand dollars surely
cannot bring a quarterly dividend of one hundred dollars."
"The quarterly dividend is one hundred and fifty," said Montcalm.
"In what kind of stock have you invested?" queried Ratke.
"That I am not at liberty to tell," responded Montcalm. "Every member
of the company is bound to keep its operations secret."
"Get out of it as soon as you can," advised Ratke. "It is fraudulent,
or there would be no need of secrecy."
"I will do so at once," acquiesced Montcalm. "At the next quarter I
will withdraw my capital."
"I am suspicious of such organizations," said Ratke. "Did you ever
hear of Nijni Novgorod oats?"
"I never did," replied Montcalm.
"That," pursued Ratke, "was the most successful swindle which was
ever worked on the farmers of Michigan. For every bushel of grain
which the company sold to a farmer, it received ten dollars and
agreed to sell for him the next year twice that quantity at the same
price, minus the agent's fee of twenty-five per cent. Thus, for each
bushel of grain the farmer bought, he gave ten dollars and got
fifteen. He was bound by agreement not to sell the oats for less than
they cost him. Jackson County went wild over the speculation. As the
Nijni Novgorod fellows gave credit and took notes for pay, every one
had means to invest.
"After harvest the agents were not to be found. Then the crisis came.
The notes had passed into the hands of those whom the law calls
innocent purchasers and, of course, had to be paid. Men put their
property out of their hands to avoid payment. Jasper Smith, a
prosperous farmer who had been defrauded to the amount of twelve
hundred dollars, hung himself in his own barn. Yet this lesson,
severe as it was, did not educate the people. They would seize with
avidity the next chance to be swindled."
"I will get out of the company at the next quarter," assured
Montcalm. "By that time I shall have doubled my investment."
"Oh, I would not be too fast," said the major. "But they will never
draw me into the scheme. I would like to have one of their agents
come here. I would give him a snub which he would not soon forget."
"The company will not attempt to inveigle you," replied Montcalm. "It
does not send out agents. It wishes to be composed of those only who
are now its members."
"How clannish!" Ratke exclaimed, "to want to keep a good thing all to
itself. I have no patience with such companies. You can tell me
something of its nature Trace?"
"Not without a permit from the president and directors," answered
Montcalm. "I must keep my promise of secrecy, even though I offend my
father's friend and mine."
"Break your promise to no one," said Ratke. "But you can write to
them for permission to impart the knowledge I wish?"
"They may not like to let you know," suggested Montcalm.
"Nevertheless, I will write."
"I will risk it," replied the major. "They would give me permission
to join if I desired to do so. Now, I have no wish to join you. But
you write and ask them if I may. I will wager a box of cigars that
they will accept me as a member."
"Done," said Montcalm, "and I will show you their answer. I am
certain of my cigars, however. They will admit no new members."
"They are very exclusive," commented the major. "Are they afraid of
contamination from the common people? None of them have better blood
than I. My ancestor, Johann Ratke, was a grandson of Martin Gerard,
the uncle of Erasmus. What king of the fourteenth century wielded a
more powerful and more enduring scepter than the philosopher of
Rotterdam?"