“My dear sir, I was born fortunately—you would say unfortunately—I say fortunately. I had tastes, appetites, and a philosophical mind. While a student I indulged those tastes to the top of my bent. I was the best billiard player, the most constant and steady drinker, the hardest rider, and, in fact, the most confirmed pleasure seeker in the college. I utterly refused to do anything that did not please me. I learned much, for the pursuit of knowledge afforded me a delight, but I would learn nothing the getting of which did not afford me pleasure.
“At the close of my college career, the world was before me. The question was, what should I do? What should be the plan of my life? Should I go into business, and make a great fortune? Should I go into literature, and make myself an imperishable name? Should I go into politics, and control the destinies of nations?
“Fortunately philosophy came to my aid. What earthly good would all this do me? What good of piling up money? What good of making a name, and what earthly use was there in controlling the destiny of nations? I could do something for myself, and what I did for myself I got the good of, but why worry about making a name, or why labor to make money which I could not take with me?
“I could see no good in any of it, and so I followed the impulses of my nature, feeling that if nature was no guide then was I lost, indeed.
“I sang, I drank, I yachted, I did everything till my money was gone, and here I am.”
“Would it not have been better for you had you followed a more reputable career?”
“I don’t see it. I could have done anything that I wanted to, but to what purpose? Sir, the world is coming to an end, shortly. The approach of various planets to the earth, the frequency of comets, the changes so common now that have been totally unknown, all conspire to a very sudden ending of the planet on which we live and move. Within my life-time, doubtless, there will be a collapse. We shall either get away from the sun or get into it, or some erratic planet will come bouncing into us, and the entire universe will go to eternal smash. The earth will either melt or freeze solid, or it will be dispersed into infinitesimal fragments.
“Now, sir, let me ask you what encouragement there is for a man to worry himself about making a fortune with this terrible condition of things staring him in the face? What good would the ownership of the New York Central Railroad be when there is a certainty that the entire structure, road-bed, depots, rolling stock and everything will be utterly destroyed within my life-time? Under such circumstances who would care to own a city, or to possess in fee simple the cattle on a thousand hills? What is beef going to be worth then?
ONE FRANC.
“And then reputation. When the earth melts and the sky is rolled up like a scroll, where is your Shakespeare? Where is Milton, Byron, Burns, and the long list of men who have written that their names may be everlasting? The dust of Shakespeare will be mingled with that of the organ grinder across the street, and the pyramids will be of no more account than the dirt-heap on the other side, which the Street Commissioner never moves away. The libraries will all be destroyed, and in the general annihilation, clergymen, scholars, capitalists, life insurance agents, presidents, emperors, book agents and tramps will all stand upon a common level. One fragment of me may assume the character of an aerolite and astonish the natives of another planet, and another fragment may go to feed the sun and thus furnish heat for the shivering tramp on Mars, and mingled with me may be the iron that is now in the system of Vanderbilt.