The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1870-07-09
Making a Fortune.
BY MARK TWAIN.

Samuel McFadden was Waterman in a
bank. He was poor, but honest, and his
life was without reproach. The trouble
with him was that he felt that he was not
appreciated. His salary was only 81 n
week, and when he asked to have it raised,
the President, the Cashier, and the Board
of Directors glared at him through their
spectacles and frowned on him and told
him to go out and stop his insolence, when
| he knew business was dull and the bank
could not meet its expense now, let alone
lavish one dollar week more on such
miserable worm as Samuel McFadden.-
And then Samuel McFadden felt depressed
and sad, and the naughty scorn of the Pres
dent and Cashier cut him to the soul. He
would often go into the side yard and bow
his venerable twenty-four inch head and
weep gallons and gallons of tears over his
insignifcance, and pray that lac might be
made worthy of the Cashiers and Presi-
dents polite attention.
One night happy thought struck him;
CLEAN of light burst upon his soul, and
gazing down the dim vista of years with
his eyes all blinded with joyous tears, he
saw himself rich, honored, and respected.
So Samuel McFadden fooled around and
got a jimmy, a monkey wrench, a cross. cut
saw, a cold chisel, a drill, and about half
ton of gunpowder and nitro-glycerine, and
all those things. Then in the dead of
night, he went to the fire-proof safe, and,
after working at it for a while, burst the
door and brick into an immortal smash
with such perfect success that there was
not enough of that safe left to make car
pet tack. Mr.. McFgdden then proceeded
to load up with coupons, greenbacks, cur
rency and specie, and to nail all the odd
change that was lying anywhere, so that
he pranced out of the bank with over one
million dollars on him. He then retired
to an unassuming residence out of town,
and sent word to the detectives where he
was.
A detective called on him next day with
a soothing note from the Cashier. McFad
den treated it with lofty scorn Detectives
called on him every day with humble notes
from the President, Cashier, and Beard of
Directors. At last the bank officers got
up magnificent private supper, to which
Mr.. McFadden was invited. He came,
and, as the bank officers bowed down in the
dust before him, he pondered over the bit
ter past, and his soul was filled with wild
exultation.
Before he drove away in his carriage that
night it was all fixed that Mr.. McFadden
was to keep half million of that money
and to be unmolested if he returned the
other half. He fulfilled his contract like
an honest man, but refused, with naughty
disdain, the offer of the Cashier to marry
his daughter.
Mac is now honored and respected. He
moves in the best society, he browses
around in purple and fine linen and other
good clothes, and enjoys himself first-rate.
And often now he takes his infant son on
his knee and tells him of his early life, and
instils holy principles into the child smind,
and shows him how, by industry and per-
severance, and frugality, and nitro-glycer-
inc, and monkey wrenches, and cress-cut
saws, and familiarity with the detective
system, even the poor may rise to affluence
and responsibility.