Bill Nye's Chestnuts Old and New

"Do you mean my library?"

"No; the books of account, the daybook, cash book, ledger, etc., etc."

"Oh!"

"I ask if you turned over all such books on the date of your assignment?"

"I could hardly tell that. At least, I would only swear on information and belief."

"Well, to the best of your knowledge and belief, did you turn over those books at that time?"

"I think I did, but I am not positive as to the date?"

"What makes you think you did?"

"Because I did frequently turn the books over, in order to see how they looked on the other side."

"Mr. Ives, we find that several of the more important books connected with your office and the firm of Henry S. Ives & Co. are missing. Do you know where they are?"

"No, I do not,"

"Were they in your office prior to your assignment?"

"Yes, they were there, according to the best of my knowledge and belief, up to the time that they were not there."

"Have you any idea, Mr. Ives, where those books are now?"

"No sir; only in a general way?"

"How do you mean in a general way?"

"Well, I mean that I know only in what might be called a general way."

"Well, Mr. Ives, will you state then, in a general way, where those books are now?"

"Yes, sir; they are elsewhere."

"What makes you say they are elsewhere, Mr. Ives?"

"Because they are not there."

"Well, now, will you tell us whether you removed those books from the office of IH. S. Ives & Co. or not?"

"Do you ask me to answer that question personally?"

"Yes."

"Do you wish a verbal answer or would you rather have it in writing?"

"Answer orally."

"Well, then, I did not, to my knowledge."

"Would you have been apt to know of it if you had taken them away yourself?"

"Well, only in a general way."

"Would you have known about it if any one else had taken them away?"

"I think I would but I might not. There was a great deal of passing along our street, and they may have been taken while I was looking out of the window, waiting till the crowds rolled by."

And so Mr. Ives continued to shed information upon the inquiring mind in a courteous and opaque manner that must have endeared him to all.

Mr. Ives has in no transaction shown himself so thoroughly shrewd as he did when he swapped a doubtful reputation for a large sum of money. The only wonder is that there were so many men who wanted to invest in that kind of goods. He did a shrewd thing, but he will not be able to profit by it.

Success, however, should only be measured by the content it brings with it. While Henry S. Ives was lighting his mighty financial battles and winning for himself the title of the Young Napoleon of Wall street, dwelling in a little palace lined with ivory and gold, but cursed by the consuming desire to be rich, and forgetful, like Mr. Gould, how full of calm and soothing content is the following simple letter, written by a man who undertook last year to inaugurate a Shakesperian revival in southern Ohio:

Cincinnati, O., Aug. 3, 1886.

Mr. Henry S. Ives, New York, N. Y.

Dear Sir: I have just arrived in this city after a long and debilitating but rather enjoyable trip over your line, and I now take pen in hand to thank you for the use of your roadbed from Indianapolis to this place. It is a good road, and I was surprised to find it well ballasted and furnished with cool retreats and shady culverts every few miles wherein a man could rest.

It is a good route for the poor but pampered tragedian to take, and water-melons grow close to the fence. I have traveled over many other roads since the new and pernicious law, but nowhere have I found watermelons more succulent or less coy and secretive than on your justly celebrated line. I also notice with pleasure that green corn is still susceptible, and wild paw paws are growing in the summer sun.

I thought I saw you go by in your special car just north of the first trestle outside of town, but you went by so fast that I could not tell definitely till too late. Please excuse me for not speaking to you as you passed by. Success on the stage has not taught me to forget or ignore my friends whenever I am thrown in contact with them.

People write me that New York State is rapidly settling up, and that property is advancing rapidly in every direction. Is this so? Advancing rapidly in every direction is, I suppose, one of the most difficult feats known to calisthenics. I have tried it myself, years ago, but now I do not practice it, having quit drinking altogether.

I hope you will let me know any time that I can be of use to you, either in mowing weeds or gathering nuts that have ripened and fallen off your track. I enjoy, especially in the autumn when the hectic of the dying year has flooded the forests with its multiplied glories, and the cricket sings his sleepy song to the tired heart, and the locust lifts its lawn-mower voice in the boughs of the poplar, to go nutting along a prolific railroad track.

I would be glad, also, if you have not secured anyone else, to assist you in herding your stock on Wall street. Railroad stock frequently runs down and gets the hollow horn for lack of care during the winter months.

Always feel free to call on me at any time that I can be of service to you.

Yours truly,

A – B – .

The moral to be drawn from the career of Napoleon Bonaparte Ives is that they who make haste to be rich may not be innocent. As Gen. McClellan once said, there can be no better incentive to integrity than the generous approval accorded to honesty by those who are honest. All other kinds of approval are not worth struggling for. Money will buy a certain kind of applause, but it is the kind that turns to scorn when justice begins to get in her fine work.

And life itself is brief. Storied urn and animated bust may succeed well in society, but they cannot soothe the dull cold ear of death. Freckled granite and prevaricating marble may perpetuate the fraud of a lifetime, but they do not always indicate success.

For myself I would rather have more sincere and honest friends through life, and afterwards content myself with a plainer tomb.

Not many miles from the costly mausoleum of a great millionaire a sign-board by the roadside reads:

This way to Foley's Grove!