Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 January 1914 — NO MORE CHANCES [ARTICLE]

NO MORE CHANCES

By WILLIAM H. OSBORNE.

Young Henry Couse was Just like other people—only more so. Deeply imbedded in his nature was a strong desire constantly to get something lor nothing. He did not gamble, but he kept a wary eye upon the lottery and upon the markets. He had another trait. He was a devoted admirer of Miss Sally Mannering. But it was this admiration that bothered him. “If I c'd only get enough of the stuff together,” he said to himself, ‘l’d pop the question. But hang it/I’m afraid I never, will.” There was one thing that young Couse did not understand. That was, that the great way to make money anywhere today, is to save it. Small sums never counted with him. He was invariably casting them’upon the waters of fortune, as a fisherman casts a worm to catch a fish. But Henry’s bait always left the hook, and he never got anything in return. However, it was winter, and Henry was hit pretty hard, and he spent a good many evenings at the home of Miss Mannering. He waß clerking it, and he said to himself that he would lay aside a little money—all he could spare. Si Hopkins was building a little mite of a house up on the hill—building it to let,, and Henry hopi<d against hope that somehow he could scrape up his courage and propose to Miss Sally; and that he could scrape up enough money by spring at least to set up with Miss Sally in that little house. So he shunned the newspapers and all the literature containing alluring offers in the shape of small investments; and shoved the lottery way back in his mind, and only thought about Miss Sally and the house. Time passed. He amassed finally the just and full sum of S6O. Fifty dollars. Think of it. Henry Couse had always made fair wages; he was a good worker; he waß a clever lad;, yet never in his life before had he possessed the sum of S6O. “What I ought to do," Henry’s batter judgment told him, “is to take this tcL Sally and let her keep it for me. That’s just the thing to do. But —” Well, Henry didn’t. And he didn’t because instead of thinking merely of renting Si’s little house, he took to building—castles in the air. One day a newspaper advertisement caught his eye. It was. headed by the wor Dollars ’* it was signed by A. Agustus Atkinson. The advertisement was very frank and clear and plain. It stated without any reservation that Mr. Atkinson, a large stock broker, had inside information on three or four of the active stocks; that he knew positively what would happen; that he had never made mistakes and that he had just made a small fortune for one of his clients ■who had taken his advice and had invested only sl6. Mr. Atkinson stated clearly that he would not accept orders; that he would merely furnish information for the trifling sum of five dollars per week, and that his client or customer must invest his money through the ordinary channels. He stated this, said Mr. Atkinson, to show his good faith. Down in the city Mr. A. Augustus Atkinson occupied a part—a part only —of in a dingy corner of a dingy byilding. He was not a broker and never had been a broker. He knew something less about tbp stock market than did Diana of Madison square. But nevertheless he made a living and a good one—with the drinks thrown in. For Mr. Atkinson had a system; a sure one—for him. The whole thing was very Bimple. When his advertisement had brought in enough flve-dol-lar bills to pay for itself, and-to make It worth Mr. Atkinson’s while to go to work, Mr. Atklnßon would sit down and write two sets of letters These letters would relate to a certain stock or commodity, say X., Y. A Z. Mr. Atkinson would advise his western customers to buy X., Y. & Z. and would advise his eastern customers to sell it. T.he result was palpable. If there was any movement whatever in X., Y. & Z., just one-half of his customers won, and the other half lost. The half that won would naturally tell all their friends about the advice and flve-dollar bills would pour in upon Mr. A. Augustus Atkinson. * Young Couse grubbed away until he had saved i|p $66. Then he wrote to Mr. Atkinson and enclosed a flvedollar bill. He stood ready with thi S6O to send it down to a good firm he knew of in the city, just as soon as Mr. Atkinson responded. Usually when he made up his mind to it, it did not take MrJ Atkinson long to answer his correspondence. His advice would consist of two or three words only: Buy so and so, or, sell so and so. But on a fateful day his correspondence was heavier than usual and he had selected a long named stock. It was a stock that had been remarkably active ini the last few days. Everybory will recall its name*-The Universal Confederated American Metallic Consolidation. This was known on ’change as the “tlca Mick.” The long name wearied Mr. Couse. and when he was half through with his list, he stopped. He had advised the first half to 1 sell stock. “Gee,” be said to himself, wearily, •‘gee, T’m tired. I’ll go out and stretch my legs a bit.” Mr. Atkinson's legs took some time to stretch; business justified it, so he thought; and they were stretched so much that they were somewhat unsteady when he •ame back. * C .

- -a--*-.- • „.v a - ■ ■ ■' . . w He picked up the list. Henry Couse, Esg,” he said to himself.—“Couse, eh. Country name that. Deri’|pd probably from Cows. Henry Couse. Hens and Cows, eh? Not bad. All right Mr. Couse. You’d better —ah, let me see; which half is this. Let’s see, I mailed those others. What did I tell ’em, anyway?” Henry Couse, Up in the Plains store, was quite unaware by what a slender thread his fate was hanging. Mr. Atkinson's memory usually was good, but it had been impaired on Ahis occasion by the stretching process. “The first lot,” said Mr. Atkinson, “why, I told ’em to buy—that’s sure. Then this half must sell. All right for you, you can sell, Henry Couse, of Frankfort Plains.” The next day Couse received a plain white envelop with an unsigned slip inside of It. This is what it said: “Sell Univ. Con. Am. Met. Con. and do it right away.”~~” Mr. Couse sold. Everybody knows now what happened. In the next three days the battle royal between the American Iron Concern and “Uca Mick” took place. Everybody remembers the crisis when “Uca Mick,” which had been 170, disappeared from sight and reappeared again at 15. It was a crash among crashes. Henry Couse contemplated it with discomfiture. “Gee," he said to himself, for he was not an adept in the mysteries of Wall street, “gee, but I’m a blamed idiot. Here I’ve been dabbling in U. C. A. and the whole bottom has fallen out of the blamed thing. Serves me right. I’ll never do it again.” The next day he received a check from his brokers for $5,000 on account. That was not all, they said there was a little more to come. For Henry..Couse had not understood the import of a sale as distinguished from purchase. He had sold at a high price, and delivered at a low price; and the difference belonged to him. Mr. Atkinson had stretehed that day to come purpose, for, through his slip of memory, every customer had sold “Uca Mick” on margin and every one had won. He does a larger business than ever, and perhaps it ’s just as well for folks to lose through him as in any other way. Mr. Henry Couße did not go to see Miss Sally Mannering on the evening that he got the check. He was too much astonished; be had to alt up half the night and look at the check steadily for hours. The next morning he went around, however. He wanted to strike while the iron vu hot . “Sally,” he said, “I’ve bought Si Hopkins’ house and came around to sees if I—could—put—the—title—inyour name.” Miss Sally Mannering thought he was crazy. But he was rational enough. For he sat himself at her side and put his arm around her waist and finally he'kissed her. And that’s no sign of lunacy. Finally..he pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. “Sally,” he said, “I want you to take these and keep them for me — for us. I’m never, never going to speculate any more. Never. I'm through. Besides,” he added, “I own some real estate and I’m going to marry you, and that’s lottery enough for any man.” Whereupon Miss Sally boxed his ears. And Henry Couse —he just laughed and let her do It. (Copyright, by Daily Story Pub. Co.)