contributions, as a company, to Chicago fires and Boston fires, and orphan asylums and all that sort of thing — head the list, you see, with the company’s full name and a thousand dollars set opposite — great card, sir — one of the finest advertisements in the world — the preachers mention it in the pulpit when it’s a religious charity — one of the happiest advertisements in the world is your benevolent donation. Ours have amounted to sixteen thousand dollars and some cents up to this time.”
“Good heavens!”
“Oh, yes. Perhaps the biggest thing we’ve done in the advertising line was to get an officer of the U. S. government, of perfectly Himmalayan official altitude, to write up our little internal improvement for a religious paper of enormous circulation — I tell you that makes our bonds go handsomely among the pious poor. Your religious paper is by far the best vehicle for a thing of this kind, because they’ll ‘lead’ your article and put it right in the midst of the reading matter; and if it’s got a few Scripture quotations in it, and some temperance platitudes and a bit of gush here and there about Sunday Schools, and a sentimental snuffle now and then about ‘God’s precious ones, the honest hard-handed poor,’ it works the nation like a charm, my dear sir, and never a man suspects that it is an advertisement; but your secular paper sticks you right into the advertising columns and of course you don’t take a trick. Give me a religious paper to advertise in, every time; and if you’ll just look at their advertising pages, you’ll observe that other people think a good deal as I do — especially people who have got little financial schemes to make everybody rich with. Of course I mean your great big metropolitan religious papers that know how to serve God and make money at the same time — that’s your sort, sir, that’s your sort — a religious paper that isn’t run to make money is no use to us, sir, as an advertising medium — no use to anybody — in our line of business. I guess our next best dodge was sending a pleasure trip of newspaper reporters out to Napoleon. Never paid them a cent; just filled them up with champagne and the fat of the land, put pen, ink and paper before them while they were red-hot, and bless your soul when you come to read their letters you’d have supposed they’d been to heaven. And if a sentimental squeamishness held one or two of them back from taking a less rosy view of Napoleon, our hospitalities tied his tongue, at least, and he said nothing at all and so did us no harm. Let me see — have I stated all the expenses I’ve been at? No, I was near forgetting one or two items. There’s your official salaries — you can’t get good men for nothing. Salaries cost pretty lively. And then there’s your big high-sounding millionaire names stuck into your advertisements as stockholders — another card, that — and they are stockholders, too, but you have to give them the stock and non-assessable at that — so they’re an expensive lot. Very, very expensive thing, take it all around, is a big internal improvement concern — but you see that yourself, Mr. Bryerman — you see that, yourself, sir.”
“But look here. I think you are a little mistaken about it’s ever having cost anything for Congressional votes. I happen to know something about that. I’ve let you say your say — now let me say mine. I don’t wish to seem to throw any suspicion on anybody’s statements, because we are all liable to be mistaken. But how would it strike you if I were to say that I was in Washington all the time this bill was pending? and what if I added that I put the measure through myself? Yes, sir, I did that little thing. And moreover, I never paid a dollar for any man’s vote and never promised one. There are some ways of doing a thing that are as good as others which other people don’t happen to think about, or don’t have the knack of succeeding in, if they do happen to think of them. My dear sir, I am obliged to knock some of your expenses in the head — for never a cent was paid a Congressman or Senator on the part of this Navigation Company.”
The president smiled blandly, even sweetly, all through this harangue, and then said:
“Is that so?”
“Every word of it.”
“Well it does seem to alter the complexion of things a little. You are acquainted with the members down there, of course, else you could not have worked to such advantage?”
“I know them all, sir. I know their wives, their children, their babies — I even made it a point to be on good terms with their lackeys. I know every Congressman well — even familiarly.”
“Very good. Do you know any of their signatures? Do you know their handwriting?”
“Why I know their handwriting as well as I know my own — have had correspondence enough with them, I should think. And their signatures — why I can tell their initials, even.”
The president went to a private safe, unlocked it and got out some letters and certain slips of paper. Then he said:
“Now here, for instance; do you believe that that is a genuine letter? Do you know this signature here? — and this one? Do you know who those initials represent — and are they forgeries?”
Harry was stupefied. There were things there that made his brain swim. Presently, at the bottom of one of the letters he saw a signature that restored his equilibrium; it even brought the sunshine of a smile to his face.
The president said:
“That one amuses you. You never suspected him?”
“Of course I ought to have suspected him, but I don’t believe it ever really occurred to me. Well, well, well — how did you ever have the nerve to approach him, of all others?”
“Why my friend, we never think of accomplishing anything without his help. He is our mainstay. But how do those letters strike you?”
“They strike me dumb! What a stone-blind idiot I have been!”
“Well, take it all around, I suppose you had a pleasant time in Washington,” said the president, gathering up the letters; “of course you must have had. Very few men could go there and get a money bill through without buying a single — ”
“Come, now, Mr. President, that’s plenty of that! I take back everything I said on that head. I’m a wiser man to-day than I was yesterday, I can tell you.”
“I think you are. In fact I am satisfied you are. But now I showed you these things in confidence, you understand. Mention facts as much as you want to, but don’t mention names to anybody. I can depend on you for that, can’t I?”
“Oh, of course. I understand the necessity of that. I will not betray the names. But to go back a bit, it begins to look as if you never saw any of that appropriation at all?”
“We saw nearly ten thousand dollars of it — and that was all. Several of us took turns at log-rolling in Washington, and if we had charged anything for that service, none of that $10,000 would ever have reached New York.”
“If you hadn’t levied the assessment you would have been in a close place I judge?”
“Close? Have you figured up the total of the disbursements I told you of?”
“No, I didn’t think of that.”
“Well, lets see:
Spent in Washington, say,
$191,000
Printing, advertising, etc, say
$118,000
Charity, say,
$16,000
Total,
$325,000
The money to do that with, comes from —
Appropriation,
$200,000
Ten per cent assessment on capital of
$1,000,000
$100,000
Total,
$300,000