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Henry, O., 1862-1910

"Strictly business: more stories of the four million"

I started out one day to sell that, but I quit it in two
hours. Why? Got arrested for blocking the street. People fought to buy
it. I sold the policeman a block of it on the way to the station-house,
and then I took it off the market. I don't want people to give me their
money. I want some little consideration connected with the transaction
to keep my pride from being hurt. I want 'em to guess the missing letter
in Chic--go, or draw to a pair of nines before they pay me a cent of
money.
"Now there's another little scheme that worked so easy I had to quit
it. You see that bottle of blue ink on the table? I tattooed an anchor
on the back of my hand and went to a bank and told 'em I was Admiral
Dewey's nephew. They offered to cash my draft on him for a thousand, but
I didn't know my uncle's first name. It shows, though, what an easy town
it is. As for burglars, they won't go in a house now unless there's a
hot supper ready and a few college students to wait on 'em. They're
slugging citizens all over the upper part of the city and I guess,
taking the town from end to end, it's a plain case of assault and
Battery."
"Monty," says I, when Silver had slacked, up, "you may have Manhattan
correctly discriminated in your perorative, but I doubt it.


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