The Gilded Age by Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner

locality in the earth and only a favored few could get it; the Rio

coffee, which at first seemed execrable to the taste, took to itself an

improved flavor when Washington was told to drink it slowly and not hurry

what should be a lingering luxury in order to be fully appreciated–it

was from the private stores of a Brazilian nobleman with an

unrememberable name. The Colonel’s tongue was a magician’s wand that

turned dried apples into figs and water into wine as easily as it could

change a hovel into a palace and present poverty into imminent future

riches.

Washington slept in a cold bed in a carpetless room and woke up in a

palace in the morning; at least the palace lingered during the moment

that he was rubbing his eyes and getting his bearings–and then it

disappeared and he recognized that the Colonel’s inspiring talk had been

influencing his dreams. Fatigue had made him sleep late; when he entered

the sitting room he noticed that the old hair-cloth sofa was absent; when

he sat down to breakfast the Colonel tossed six or seven dollars in bills

on the table, counted them over, said he was a little short and must call

upon his banker; then returned the bills to his wallet with the

indifferent air of a man who is used to money. The breakfast was not an

improvement upon the supper, but the Colonel talked it up and transformed

it into an oriental feast. Bye and bye, he said:

“I intend to look out for you, Washington, my boy. I hunted up a place

for you yesterday, but I am not referring to that,–now–that is a mere

livelihood–mere bread and butter; but when I say I mean to look out for

you I mean something very different. I mean to put things in your way

than will make a mere livelihood a trifling thing. I’ll put you in a way

to make more money than you’ll ever know what to do with. You’ll be

right here where I can put my hand on you when anything turns up. I’ve

got some prodigious operations on foot; but I’m keeping quiet; mum’s the

word; your old hand don’t go around pow-wowing and letting everybody see

his k’yards and find out his little game. But all in good time,

Washington, all in good time. You’ll see. Now there’s an operation in

corn that looks well. Some New York men are trying to get me to go into

it–buy up all the growing crops and just boss the market when they

mature–ah I tell you it’s a great thing. And it only costs a trifle;

two millions or two and a half will do it. I haven’t exactly promised

yet–there’s no hurry–the more indifferent I seem, you know, the more

anxious those fellows will get. And then there is the hog speculation–

that’s bigger still. We’ve got quiet men at work,” [he was very

impressive here,] “mousing around, to get propositions out of all the

farmers in the whole west and northwest for the hog crop, and other

agents quietly getting propositions and terms out of all the

manufactories–and don’t you see, if we can get all the hogs and all the

slaughter horses into our hands on the dead quiet–whew! it would take

three ships to carry the money.–I’ve looked into the thing–calculated

all the chances for and all the chances against, and though I shake my

head and hesitate and keep on thinking, apparently, I’ve got my mind made

up that if the thing can be done on a capital of six millions, that’s the

horse to put up money on! Why Washington–but what’s the use of talking

about it–any man can see that there’s whole Atlantic oceans of cash in

it, gulfs and bays thrown in. But there’s a bigger thing than that, yes

bigger—-”

Why Colonel, you can’t want anything bigger!” said Washington, his eyes

blazing. “Oh, I wish I could go into either of those speculations–I

only wish I had money–I wish I wasn’t cramped and kept down and fettered

with poverty, and such prodigious chances lying right here in sight!

Oh, it is a fearful thing to be poor. But don’t throw away those things

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