“THE RICH POOR—THE
POOR RICH.—’I have made $50,000 since
last January,’
said one of these real-estate speculators to
a friend.
“‘The dense
you have,’ said the other, looking up in
astonishment ’Why,
last January you were not worth a
twenty-dollar bill.’
“’I know
that; but I now calculate I’m worth full $50,000,
if not $60,000.’
“How have you made it?’
“’By speculating
in real estate. I bought three hundred lots
at Goose Island at $150
apiece; they are now worth $400. I
would not sell them
for $350 apiece, I assure you.’
“’ Do you think so?’
“’Sartain. I have two hundred and fifty lots at Blockhead’s Point, worth $150 a piece; some on them are worth $200. I have one hundred lots at Jackass Inlet, worth at least $100, at the very lowest calculation. In short, I’m worth a hull $60,000.’
“’Well, I’m glad to hear it. You can pay me now the $500 you have owed me for these last four years. There’s your note, I believe,’ said he, handing the speculator a worn piece of paper that had a piece of writing upon it.
“The speculator
looked blank at this. ’Oh! yes—my—now
I’d
like—suppose,’
but the words could not form themselves into
a perfect sentence.
“‘I want
the money very much,’ said the other; ’I
have some
payments to make to-morrow.’
“‘Why, you don’t want cash for it surely.’
“’Yes, but
I do. You say you are worth $60,000,—surely
$500
is but a trifle to pay;
do let me have the cash on the nail,
if you please.’
“’Oh!—by—well—now—do
tell—really, I have not got the
money at present.’
“’So you
can’t pay it, eh? A man worth $60,000, and
can’t
pay an old debt of $500?’
“’Oh! yes
I can—I’ll—I’ll—just
give you my note for it at
ninety days.’
“’The D—l
you will! A man worth $60,000, and can’t
pay $500
for ninety days! what
do you mean?’


