e.

One hot July afternoon in 186-, I was sitting in my private office at my
New York Agency, located then, and now, at the corner of New Street and
Exchange Place, in the very heart of the money and stock battles of
Gotham, pretty well tired out from a busy day's work in carrying to
completion some of the vast transactions that had accumulated during the
war, and which were in turn waiting for my professional services to
unravel.

It had been a terribly hot day, and the city seemed like a vast caldron
filled with a million boiling victims; and now that the day's labor was
nearly over, I was principally employed in an attempt to keep cool, but
finding it impossible with everybody about me, settled myself in my
easy-chair at the window to watch the Babel of brokers below.

From such an altitude, where one can look down soberly upon these madmen
and see their wild antics, when for the moment they are absolutely
insane in their thirst for gold, never halting at the most extreme
recklessness even though they know it may compel wholesale ruin, it is
easy to realize how isolated cases occur where the whole human nature
yields to greed, and sweeps on to the certain accomplishment of crime
for its satisfaction.

Just after a particularly heavy "rush" had been made, resulting in a few
broken limbs and numberless tattered hats and demolished garments, and
the bulls and bears were gathered about in knots excitedly talking over
their profit and loss, and wiping the great beads of perspiration, from
their lobster-like faces, I noticed an important-looking gentleman turn
into New Street from the direction of Broadway, and after edging through
the crowds, occasionally halting to ask a question in the politest
possible manner--the replies and gestures to which seemed to indicate
that he was seeking my agency, which afterwards proved true--this vision
of precision and politeness passed from my sight into Exchange Place,
and in a few moments after I was informed that a gentleman desired to
see me on very important business.

After ascertaining who the gentleman was, and already knowing him to be
a harmless sort of an adventurer, and under the particular patronage of
a wealthy Rochester gentleman, I admitted him and he was introduced as
Mr. Harcout, of Rochester and New York.

Mr. Harcout was a character in his way, and deserving of some notice. He
was a tall, heavily-built, obese gentleman of about forty-five years of
age, impre