Pisistratus.—A man learns in the Bush how happy life can be with plenty of employment, and very little money. I shall practise that lesson in England.
Uncle Jack.—Your mind's made up?
Pisistratus.—And my place in the chip taken.
Uncle Jack.—Then there's no more to be said. (Hums, haws, and examines his nails—filbert nails, not a speck on them.) Then suddenly, and jerking up his head. "That 'Capitalist!' it has been on my conscience, nephew, ever since; and, somehow or other, since I have abandoned the cause of my fellow-creatures, I think I have cared more for my relations."
Pisistratus, (smiling, as he remembers his father's shrewd predictions thereon.)—Naturally, my dear uncle: any child who has thrown a stone into a pond knows that a circle disappears as it widens.
Uncle Jack.—Very true—I shall make a note of that, applicable to my next speech, in defence of what they call the "land monopoly." Thank you—stone—circle! (Jots down notes in his pocket-book.) But, to return to the point: I am well off now—I have neither wife nor child; and I feel that I ought to bear my share in your father's loss: it was our joint speculation. And your father, good dear Austin, paid my debts into the bargain. And how cheering the punch was that night, when your mother wanted to scold poor Jack! And the £300 Austin lent me when I left him: nephew, that was the remaking of me—the acorn of the oak I have transplanted. So here they are, (added Uncle Jack with a heroical effort—and he extracted from the pocket-book, bills for a sum between three and four thousand pounds.) There, it is done—and I shall sleep better for it! (With that Uncle Jack got up, and bolted out of the room.)
Ought I to take the money? Why, I think yes!—it is but fair. Jack must be really rich, and can well spare the money; besides, if he wants it again, I know my father will let him have it. And, indeed, Jack caused the loss of the whole sum lost on The Capitalist, &c.; and this is not quite the half of what my father paid away. But is it not fine in Uncle Jack! Well, my father was quite right in his milder estimate of Jack's scalene conformation, and it is hard to judge of a man when he is needy and down in the world. When one grafts one's ideas on one's neighbour's money, they are certainly not so grand as when they spring from one's own.
Uncle Jack, (popping his head into the room.)—And you see, you can double that money if you will just leave it in my hands for a couple of years,—you have no notion what I shall make of the Tibbet's Wheal! Did I tell you?—the German was quite right,—I have been offered already seven times the sum which I gave for the land. But I am now looking out for a Company: let me put you down for shares to the amount at least of those trumpery bills. Cent per cent,—I guarantee cent per cent! (And Uncle Jack stretches out those famous smooth hands of his, with a tremulous motion of the ten eloquent fingers.)
Pisistratus.—Ah, my dear uncle, if you repent——
Uncle Jack.—Repent! when I offer you cent per cent, on my personal guarantee!