Being quite prepared for this result, I felt neither surprise nor disappointment, but shortly after coolly disposed of the shop, and all that was in it, to another party, who, as I wish every body well, I am glad to say, did, according to his own account, amazingly well in it, he declaring to me himself that it fulfilled his most sanguine expectations.
It could not be otherwise, for, as I well knew would be the case, the moment I quitted the counter, and this person took my place, the stream of public patronage returned; customers came thronging in faster than he and two stout active shopmen could serve them.
Now, in this affair, as in all others of a similar kind, my friends confessed that I had given the spec fair play, and that there was nothing on my part to which they could attribute the blame of failure. Unable to account for it, therefore, they merely shrugged their shoulders and said, “It was odd; they didn’t understand it.” Neither did I, good reader; but so it was.
One rather odd feature in my case I may mention. Although I never actually succeed in anything, I am always very near doing so—very near getting every thing—within an ace, in almost every instance, of obtaining all I want. My friends are frequently bitten by this will-o’-the-wisp in my fortunes, and have fifty times congratulated me on the strength of its deceptive promises or successes, which of course are never realised.
In reply to their congratulations on such occasions, I merely smile and shake my head; adding, perhaps, “Not so fast, my good friends; wait a bit and you’ll see. I have been as near my mark a hundred times before.”
Perhaps the reader would like to glance at a case in point. I will present it to him: it is not yet three weeks old. I applied for a certain appointment in the gift of a certain board. Here is the reply of the secretary, who was my personal friend:—“My dear Sir, I am exceedingly happy to inform you that your application, which was this day read at the board, has been most favourably received. Indeed, from what has passed on the subject, I may assure you of success, and beg to congratulate you accordingly. Your success would not perhaps have been quite so certain had Mr S— been at home, as he would probably support his friend B., who is the only person you had to fear. But Mr S—, who is on the continent (at Carlsbad), is not expected for a fortnight, and cannot be here for a week at the soonest; so you are safe.”
“Well, then, now surely, Bob,” said my friends to whom I showed this letter, “you cannot doubt of your success in this instance.”
“No, indeed!” exclaimed I, with the usual shake of the head and accompanying smile of incredulity; “never had less expectation from any thing in my life. Don’t you see, Mr S— will be home in time, and will give his powerful interest to my rival?”
“Impossible, my dear sir; Mr S— is at Carlsbad, and cannot be home in less than a week. Neither steam-boat nor rail-road could enable him to accomplish such a feat.”
“No, but a balloon might; and depend upon it a balloon he will take, rather than I should get the situation. This he’ll certainly do, although he knows nothing of what is going on.”