Loyola College - Review Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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WO YOLA COLLEGE REWTEW — but true success consists in the ability to make full use of your opportunities right here in your own country. What could you do in this fair land of ours (note the melodrama—it’s a weakness of mine), in this city, inthis very room?’ Well, he drawled, suppose you and I get down to brass tacks. After all my travels, I'm not the man to yell quits at a showdown. But show me the opportunity, show me the opportun- ку! I glanced around desperately. He had in his own vernacular ''called my bluff. Not an acquaintance in sight! Even the insurance agent, who had trailed me indefatigably for three full wecks, had now disappeared. The first violinist was doubling himself up after a very able rendition of the Seventh Hungarian Dance by Brahms. Asa drowning man will clutch at a straw so did I at the inspiration given by this man. Ihastily sought his name on the musical programme. When I looked up, quite satisfied with my rescue, I am certain that J. Cornelius saw the ex- pression of triumph I endeavoured to conceal. Well? he began. Baxter, said I, using my most formal and business-like tone, as if that would make up for any lack of probability in what I was about to suggest, “--Вахсег, your fortune is made! At that he leaned back in his chair, banged the table with a hand that would be a drawing card at a butcher's ү and roared with laughter until expected the management, if not the guests, to forcibly авав with our company. Listen to the confirmed pessimist, would you, he roared, going off into another paroxysm. “Of all the . . . but go on, I’m game for anything! Needless to say, 1 was quite put out at what I considered biting the hand that fed. However, patience prevailed over --- dampened enthusiasm, for I resolved to help him in spite of himself. I repeat, J. C., that your fortune is made. It may not have occurred to you that at present there is a great demand for classical artists. It is easy to de- mand them, but it takes ability to pro- vide. Let the task be yours! We have with us to-night (note the melodrama again) Mr. Constantine Surofski, a man of recognized talent in musical circles throughout the city. Organize a concert tour with him and the world is yours! I looked up at J. Cornelius to note the effect of my peroration. It seemed to me that the germ of invention had begun to infect him, so I made some excuse about an Maé егы with a real estate man (God forbid!) and left him scrambling over a menu covered with figures. When I got up the next morning, I was in a savage humour, p because I had lost heavily at bridge the night before, but mostly because I had a rather ghastly dream of Baxter dia- bolically laughing at me while Surofski strangled me with a bowstring. To cap the climax, I cut myself pitifully while shaving and arrived late at the office (I always insist on punctuality in my employees). Scarcely had I begun to sort out the morning's mail when the office boy announced J. Cornelius. Why the sad look, old-timer?” he burst out, “things are just ripping! No doubt, I interposed drily, thinking of my shave that morning and having not the slightest interest in anything. Whereupon he bent closer and, banging the desk loudly as if to clinch a bargain, he whispered hoarsely, “He's here!” Who's here? I demanded. “Тһе musician, of course! I caught him off his guard last night after a good round of applause, so I walked up, and tapping him confidentially on the chest, I said: “I have a bit of business here, Mr. Surofski, which means cash to you 4 по |

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ШОУ ОЉА COLLEGE REVIEW 4 Business Is Business FEY d 5 ox: ЧЕ were seated together, SG Bob Wilkins and I, in the FAY smoker of the Old-Tim- РУ) ers’ Club, and had been RN casually discussing men МА and things in general. 227) There came a pause in the conversation, and inquired: By the way, Jim, where's old Cor- nelius Baxter now? He hasn't turned up at the club here for ages. What sort of an odd duck is he anyway? I don't know where he is, I re- plied, ‘‘his comings and goings are not to be reckoned by mortal man. How- ever, if you feel inclined to listen, I'll tell you of my last encounter with that famous old fortune-hunter. ' Fire away,” answered Bob, settling himself comfortably. ж k k k ж Well, close on to four months ago, I happened to encounter Baxter on Broad- way, and after the usual greetings we moved along to the Biltmore to refresh the inner man. Towards the end of the meal the discussion assumed a more philosophical tone and I could see that something was coming. Business, my dear Jim, remarked J. Cornelius thoughtfully, while a mod- ern young bandit in the person of a waiter presented me with the bill, “5 what you make it. Now I remember when Floated the Equatorial Ice Со? I suggested, attempting to be an icono- clast and pay the waiter at the same time. Ah, that unfortunate affair would have gone over like the abolition of the Eighteenth Amendment, but the natives down there had no use for the ice. They said it made everything too cold and so went back to tabasco sauce and I to New York. Nevertheless, what I say goes with both feet right side up on the mat. No matter what a man takes up, there is a fortune in it for him. Latent, maybe, but there is just the same. Yes sir, latent fortune!” Among the palms and music, J. Cornelius Baxter, Esq., presented a Grass figure. His huge frame and genial countenance ner to expand to suit his environment. Careless in speech and gesture, there lodged in that breast a heart as true as ever man ossessed. He was indeed a world- aa Ireflected. One month he would be down and out, another would find him pursuing a new Eldorado until Dame Fortune quite as invariably and ruthlessly forsook him. I had become intensely interested in the man, for he was a natural-born story-teller and his vivid accounts of various escapades in almost every corner of the globe would have made Baron Munchausen yearn to revise his experiences. His resources, moreover, were proportional to his enthusiasm when it came to the launch- ing of a new project. “Easy Street, he would remark in his laconic way, ‘‘is the easiest place on earth to land so long as you turn no corners.” Strangely enough Nemesis provided too many corners for his own walk of life. Possibly it may have been the vigor- ously optimistic character of the man which made me wish to direct his activities locally, or perhaps it was my own egoistic pessimism asserting itself which led me to remark: ‘‘Your meth- ods may prove effective if you always intend to sell pickled pig's feet at Baden- Baden or tooth brushes in Timbuctoo, 49}

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М” ШО УОЛА COLLEGE REVIEW — and ше. Give ше ап hour of your time and I'll pour a tale into your ear that will make you scribble off the Russian War Debt and no questions asked.” He just blinked and tried to look wise, so I took his arm, quietly led him to a corner and surprised him with the secret. Towards the end I noticed a glimmer of understanding there, so I drew up a rock-bound contract, got two clerks and the house detective to wit- ness the transaction an d before he could say Boo! I had his signature down on the good old parchment.’ He stopped for breath, and smiled so confidently at me that my ill-humour vanished completely. I rang for the office boy. Show the other gentleman in,” I ordered. A tall young chap entered, modestly dressed in black. His general appearance, combined with his flowing locks and serious, chiselled features, gave him the stamp of the artist. He smiled and bowed gracefully. “Таш indeed honour, zir,” said he, in a soft, rich accent. I acknowledged my pleasure by getting down to business. So you gentlemen have come to an agreement, I remarked inanely, for lack of something more to the point. All, as my fren’ say, is О.К.” he smiled, displaying at the same time a latent vein of whimsical humour and a good row of teeth. Suddenly, a soft suspicion of the ul- terior motive of their visit occurred to me. Nor was I to be left long in doubt about it. Baxter coughed, shifted a bit uneasily in his chair, took a few preliminary gulps of air and, in his most ingratiating manner, cut the Gor- dian knot by, ''E-er Jim,—there's a little Matters олы. I waited no longer, because I knew that he would argue blood from the proverbial stone. Taking out my cheque-book I secretly resolved to kick myself around the block at the first favourable opportunity. How much?'' I queried weakly, pen in hand. 4- “А thousand will do, he answered coolly, ''—Press-agents and an initial appropriation for hall rentals. He thanked me profusely, promised to let me in on anything exciting, and de- parted, followed by the exuberant Sur- ofski. During the next week I was so pre- occupied by an efficiency expert who came from the head office that I com- pletely forgot about Baxter and his venture. I was very surprised to hear from him but more so at the contents of his letter, penned in a style pre-emin- ently Baxterian. Dear Jim, it ran, “Never struck better since the Argentine egg deal. Won over the society matrons first and the rest fell for us like a centenarian on ice. Surofski sure made a hit, but it's a puzzle to me whether it's the music or his hair that got more popularity. The women are raving about him, and if he had drunk all the tea he has been in- vited to take in the past week, they'd have to revise the Boston tea party in the school readers. Enclosed find the check for a thousand. Thanks. ГЇЇ write again when I'm not busy counting proceeds. Yours in luck.—J. С.В.” He did not write me again for two weeks, but when he did it was in the form of a night letter that certainly belied the tone of his previous communi- cation. MONKEY WRENCH IN THE MACHINERY STOP SUROFSKI IN LOVE WITH SINGER STOP GETS NO ENCOURAGEMENT AND SULKS STOP WANTS TO KILL HIMSELF STOP WISH HE WOULD STOP MEET ME SATURDAY 3 P.M. Витмове--ВАХТЕВ. When I read this I didn't know whether to laugh, get angry or to give up the whole business as a bad job. Suffice it to say that I appeared at the Biltmore at the hour appointed, pre- pos for anything, but hoping at least or an explanation. J. C., according to custom, arrived a quarter of an hour late, but he looked so woebegone and { ах}