If he went into the traffic for the purpose of making money out of it, he has found, by this time, I have no doubt, that he would have been, at the very least calculation, five thousand dollars better off had he never thrust himself into a business of which he did not know the first rudiments.
If he embarked in it to interfere with or to injure me, personally, he has now ascertained, I imagine, that it required a faster horse than he was in the habit of driving to keep in sight of my team.
If his purpose was the gratification of his own petty spite or ambition only, he has had to pay for the enjoyment of it,—ay, to his dear cost!—and he is welcome to all he ever made out of his contemptible, niggardly huckstering.
Soon after the first exhibition, it was announced by the publishers in Boston that Dr. Bennett's new Treatise would be immediately issued by them. The doctor had originally applied to the establishment in which I was then a partner, to issue this work; but I recommended him to the others, because our own facilities for getting it out were not so good as I thought were theirs.
I furnished a considerable amount of the matter for that book, and had already obtained, at my own individual expense, several of the engravings which appear in the work spoken of. After the original cuts were placed in the publishers' hands, they were reduced in size, and injured (for my purposes), as I conceived, when they finally appeared in print.
The doctor's book on poultry had been announced again and again; but it did not make its appearance in the market, in consequence of his tardiness. Week after week, and month after month, passed by, but still no Dr. Bennett's book could be found. I saw some of the proof-sheets finally, observed the fate of the illustrations of my fowls, and made up my mind what I would do. The book was at last announced positively to appear in three weeks.
I immediately called at a stereotype foundery, and asked how much time it would require to stereotype a work of one hundred and fifty pages for me. I was told that it would occupy three to four weeks to complete it. "Can't it be done in one week?" I inquired. The proprietor smiled, and said that this was impossible. I replied, "Well, sir, to-day is Tuesday. I have engaged to deliver in New York city, on the morning of a week from next Saturday, three thousand copies of a book which I am about to write. Is there no way that you can help me out?" The gentleman looked at me incredulously.
I added, "Mr.——, I have been in the newspaper business a good many years, and I have had the message of the President of the United States—a document occupying a dozen columns of solid brevier and minion—set up and put to press within forty-two minutes from the time it reached our office. Anything can be accomplished, now-a-days, if we but will it."
"But, you say you are about to write it. When will the 'copy' be ready?" said the stereotyper.
"I have thought of this," I replied, "but a few hours. The title, even, is not yet decided upon. I will give you fifty pages of manuscript to-morrow morning, the next day I will add another fifty, and you shall have the whole in hand by Friday morning."