But what short-sighted mortals we are, and how the blindfolded goddess loves to sport with human calculations!
————Heu, Fortuna, quis est crudelior in nos
Te Deus?—ut semper gaudes illudere rebus
Humanis!
exclaimed Horace; and depend upon it, if stocks were the subject of traffic in Rome, he had just been nicked when he wrote that passage. Most courteous reader, I was doomed to suffer another grievous disappointment; stocks took a different turn from what I had expected. The storm cleared away, and the panic abated. The sun again shone out bright, and smiles reappeared on the brokers’ faces. Prices had reached their lowest point, precisely at the moment that I sold out mine, and instead of going down to ninety, as they would have done had I continued to hold, they “rallied,” as the saying is, and rose to par. I looked and felt blue, and counted over my money again and again; I ciphered and calculated for half a morning, in endeavoring to make my loss less than it was. It was of no use, however, for the result of my counting and my ciphering were precisely the same, showing a deficiency of six hundred dollars and the brokerage. “O, if I could but get back my stock,” thought I, “I would hold it till doomsday, before I would again sell it for a less sum than it cost me.” That was an idle thought, for the money having been borrowed, I had not the power to do as I wished.
Well, I found that complaining would do no good, and it was plain that I could not recover my losses by sitting down and doing nothing; beside, it was very unlike a bold operator—a Napoleon of the exchange—to be disheartened by the first reverse or two; so I determined, as there was now a strong probability of an immediate advance of prices, to get back my Ohio stock at par. I was too late in deciding by a day, and was obliged to give one per cent. premium. That trifling difference, however, I did not regard; for what was one per cent., more or less, to a man who was sure of making ten of them?
I now felt certain that I had hit the nail on the head. “Rem tetigi acu,” said I; and what made me more confident of success was the fact, that the newspapers, disagreeing upon almost every other subject, were agreed upon one point, namely, that, in consequence of the “better feeling” that prevailed, stocks would certainly rise. I believed them, having naturally a strong inclination to credit what I see in print.
A good feeling unquestionably did exist at the time I bought, and the prices of stocks were likewise very good; but, as usual, when the time came in which I was compelled to sell, a very different feeling seemed to be rife, and symptoms of another panic began to make their appearance simultaneously with the approach of a storm. On the day I sold out, everything was at sixes and sevens; the rain came down in floods, the wind blew, and the whole army of brokers, like a flock of sheep that had lost their shepherd, were again in the greatest alarm and confusion. My poor stock, like the parting spirit of Napoleon, went off in a whirlwind, at ninety-eight; and I went home that day mad, and drenched with rain, (having mislaid my umbrella,) and a loser of three hundred dollars more. I felt exceedingly bad—I was disgusted.
The prospect of my going to Niagara was now unpromising; and I prudently resolved to postpone the visit for another year at least. Such a thing was not again to be thought of, till, in gambler’s phrase, I should be on velvet, that is, have some winnings over and above my capital; but so far from being on velvet, I was on the sharpest kind of paving-stones, nay, figuratively speaking, I was on spikes. I was now reduced to the point of struggling, not for victory, but for safety; and I was like a general who, having abandoned all hopes of conquest, would be too happy to save his own bacon, and get safe home. My discouragement, however, was of short duration, and with my reviving spirits, I resumed the hazardous business.
I made several other operations in what are technically called the “fancies”—stocks that pay no dividends, and the value of which is rather imaginary or fanciful, (whence their name, probably,) than real. I had enough of good stocks—they had well-nigh ruined me; and I resolved to try my luck among those that are good for nothing, except to be bought and sold. Ill-fortune still pursued me. What with stormy weather, increased demand for money, paragraphs containing bad news from Washington, and flying reports of some diabolical measure contemplated by England, all my adventures turned out unfavorably, and I was reduced in pocket to a very low ebb. My little capital was on its last legs.