"FROM GOD AND THE KING"
After the "Dream" came a trying period; long and exasperating delay
in the publication of the book; frequent promising but unsuccessful
efforts to secure a business connection that would afford a living
for my family; a continued strain which my nervous system was ill
prepared to stand and always, just when it seemed as though there
was no way to turn, some light and help came.
My contract with my publisher called for some financial contribution
from me--not a large sum, expressed in dollars, but monumental in
the effort required to raise it. Most of the amount was gained through
advance sales of the book, the rest I was forced reluctantly, to
raise in small loans. This was accomplished after much correspondence,
chiefly with my former customers in the trade.
Amongst others to whom I wrote requesting assistance in this matter
was one man, formerly a broker in New York and to whose firm I had
given a good deal of business in the old days. He is now connected
with the Chicago branch of one of the trusts. He returned my letter
after writing across it in red ink: "Had you not held your head so
d--n high in your halcyon days, I might respond. You should look
to the 'Four Hundred' for help."
Consumed with envy in the days of my success, it afforded him, no
doubt, some gratification to kick a man when he is down, but his
effort brought only a smile--the animus was so apparent and the
effort so feeble.
At last! The book was published.
A few copies were sent to the press; the advance orders filled and
then I commenced a canvass by mail to dispose of the remainder of
the edition. Perhaps one-quarter of my sales were to strangers, the
rest to people who knew me, or knew of me, in business and social
life.
The press reviews were very favorable. This was gratifying, but
the letters that came to me from all over the country from friends,
acquaintances, and strangers brought rays of sunshine that after
the dark days were dazzling in their brilliancy.
A few friends and a number of acquaintances I expected would be
kindly critics, but when I gave to the world the outpourings of my
heart, with the sale of the book went the right of criticism, and
as there are always some who cannot or will not understand us, I
was prepared for anything--except what I received.
I could not have foreseen how strangers, in remitting for their
copy, would send a cheque for many times its published price, writing
that "the book was worth it." I never dreamed of the large number
of acquaintances that must now be enrolled as friends--not the old
sort but the real thing. Nor could I have expected the material aid,
that came to me when so sorely needed, would have come so largely
from those who knew me only through my book. Least of all did I
have any premonition that within a few months after its publication,
the book would be the medium of bringing me in personal contact
with a gentleman, who has made possible, in a great measure, the
fulfillment of my "Dream."
And yet, such is the fact!
After an exchange of letters and in response to his kind invitation,
I called at his office, and as he grasped my hand I felt that I
had found a friend--how great a friend I did not then know.
The first call was followed by many others, and I was always welcomed
with the cordial greeting that is born of sincerity and sired by
true friendship. He took a keen interest in my affairs, discussed
with me my plans for again becoming a "moneymaker," and was ever
ready to lend a helping hand to bridge over the hard spots that
were more or less frequent.
Among other business prospects, there was held out to me the
possibility of becoming manager of a branch office of a New York
Stock Exchange firm in Washington, D. C. This position I lost in
competition with a man who had already an established clientele.
Then came an offer from another Washington concern, an opening
in a congenial and remunerative business, that would give me only
a small income to commence with, but which through a prospective
early reorganization of the concern presented great possibilities.
This I accepted.
As soon as it was decided we were to settle in Washington or its
vicinity, came the longing for a country home, not only as a matter
of choice, but the practical side appealed to us.
We believed we could make a farm certainly self-supporting and
probably a paying proposition. Our amateur experience in earlier
years had always been successful. We did not think there was much
to be made in farming, as it is generally understood, but the farm
would give us our living and certain specialties we thought could
be relied on for profit. Hot-house cucumbers, cold frame violets,
mushrooms, and last, but by no means least, the putting up "home-made,"
in glass of vegetables and fruits for sale to private buyers. In
this department my wife is a master hand. In our prosperous days she
always superintended such work in our home and always with unqualified
success. No better market than Washington could be desired for such
products and we longed for the opportunity to cater to it.
We talked it all over one evening and called it a fairy tale, it
seemed so far beyond the bounds of our possibilities.
As a singular coincidence, there came to me the following day a
catalogue of farms, published by a Washington real estate agent.
Looking it over, I clipped from its columns the following:
_334. $8000. 150 acres. "Chestnut Ridge." Elegant property delightfully
located._ Land of excellent quality, adapted to all agricultural
purposes; 50 or more acres of valuable woodland, embracing every
variety, suitable for timber ties and telegraph poles; many cool
and pleasant groves; handsome 3-story mansion; library, parlor,
dining-room, butler's room, pantry, kitchen, laundry, bath, 7 bed-rooms,
attic and 1 cupola room; open fire-place; grate; latrobe; approach
to mansion through driveway lined with evergreens, encircling
beautiful lawn; water supply ample and pure; 2 springs, 2 wells
and a constant running stream, with a tributary run, adding greatly
to the possibilities of the place. A lake, 150x75 feet, furnishes
pleasure in summer and sufficient ice in winter. Every kind and
variety of fruit; small fruit and grapes in abundance. The outhouses
embrace office, ice-house, gardener's house, stone dairy, barn with
loft and wagon sheds, hay-barracks and extensive poultry-houses,
systematically arranged for handling chickens and eggs. This choice
property is only 14 miles from Baltimore, near the Washington
Boulevard, and overlooks the surrounding country for miles; magnificent
scenery and a healthy, lovely home worthy the attention of connoisseur.
"The very place we want," said my wife, and I agreed with her.
I carried the clipping in my pocket, and a day or two later, when
calling on my friend I showed it to him. He, like myself, is an
enthusiastic lover of the country. We talked it all over, and as
I was leaving him, he said: "I don't know but I might help you in
the matter of that farm."
I do not think I grasped all that remark meant. Certainly I had
no idea then, that within a few months I should be writing this
chapter in my "Den" at "Chestnut Ridge."
I went to Washington, looked at the property, and after looking
at sixty-two other farms in Maryland and Virginia, returned to New
York and was authorized by my friend to make an offer for the place.
[Illustration: "Chestnut Ridge"--Library]
Before making the offer I wanted my wife to see the farm. When she
did so, she was delighted.
The day we spent in roaming over the broad acres, with the happy
thought in our hearts that this was to be our home, will ever be
a red-letter day in our calendar of life.
After a few day's negotiations the purchase was closed, and when
the necessary repairs to buildings had been completed and the farm
equipped we took possession.
[Footnote: To the author, it seems unnatural to close this chapter
without any expression of the one all-absorbing feeling that almost
overpowered us as we realized we again had a home and yet he cannot
ignore the wishes of his friend.]