FullReads

“Yes, sir; I am its South American editor.’

“Yes!” roared the old man, in a sudden rage. “Sir, I wish South America was sunk in the depths of the sea!”

“I am sure I do, sir,” replied I, glancing at Julia, who did not, however, understand me. I had not fully passed out of my last night’s distress.

My sympathizing zeal soothed the old gentleman a little, and he said more coolly, in an undertone: “Well, sir, you are well informed, no doubt; tell me, in strict secrecy, sir, between you and me, do you–do you place full credit–entire confidence in the intelligence in this morning’s paper?”

“Excuse me, sir; what paper do you allude to? Ah! the Argus, I see. Certainly, sir; I have not the least doubt that it is perfectly correct.”

“No doubt, sir! Do you mean to insult me?–Julia, I told you so; he says there is no doubt it is true. Tell me again there is some mistake, will you?” The poor girl had been trying to soothe him with the constant remark of uninformed people, that the newspapers are always in the wrong. He turned from her, and rose from his chair in a positive rage. She was half crying. I never saw her more distressed. What did all this mean? Were one, two, or all of us crazy?

It soon appeared. After pacing the length of the room once or twice, Wentworth came up to me again, and, attempting to appear cool, said between his closed lips: “Do you say you have no doubt that Rio Janeiro is strictly blockaded?”

“Not the slightest in the world,” said I, trying to seem unconcerned.

“Not the slightest, sir? What are you so impudent and cool about it for? Do you think you are talking of the opening of a rose-bud or the death of a mosquito? Have you no sympathy with the sufferings of a fellow-creature? Why, sir!” and the old man’s teeth chattered as he spoke, “I have five cargoes of flour on their way to Rio, and their captains will–Damn it, sir, I shall lose the whole venture.”

The secret was out. The old fool had been sending flour to Rio, knowing as little of the state of affairs there as a child.

“And do you really mean, sir,” continued the old man, “that there is an embargo in force in Monte Video?”

“Certainly, sir; but I’m very sorry for it.”

“Sorry for it! of course you are;–and that all foreigners are sent out of Buenos Ayres?”

“Undoubtedly, sir. I wish–“

“Who does not wish so? Why, sir, my corresponding friends there are half across the sea by this time. I wish Rosas was in–and that the Indians have risen near Maranham?”

“Undoubtedly, sir.”

“Undoubtedly! I tell you, sir, I have two vessels waiting for cargoes of India-rubbers there, under a blunder-headed captain, who will do nothing he has not been bidden to,–obey his orders if he breaks his owners. You smile, sir? Why, I should have made thirty thousand dollars this winter, sir, by my India-rubbers, if we had not had this devilish mild, open weather, you and Miss Julia there have been praising so. But next winter must be a severe one, and with those India-rubbers I should have made–But now those Indians,–pshaw! And a revolution in Chili?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No trade there! And in Venezuela?”

“Yes, sir”

“Yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir! Sir, I am ruined. Say ‘Yes, sir,’ to that. I have thirteen vessels at this moment in the South American trade, sir; say ‘Yes, sir,’ to that. Half of them will be taken by the piratical scoundrels; say ‘Yes, sir,’ to that. Their insurance will not cover them; say ‘Yes, sir,’ to that. The other half will forfeit their cargoes, or sell them for next to nothing; say ‘Yes, sir,’ to that. I tell you I am a ruined man, and I wish the South America, and your daily Argus, and you–“

Here the old gentleman’s old-school breeding got the better of his rage, and he sank down in his arm-chair, and, bursting into tears, said: “Excuse me, sir,–excuse me, sir,–I am too warm.”