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HOME AND FARM MAGAZINE SECTION
HOME AND FARM MAGAZINE SECTION SERIAL.
A Fool and His Money
By
Gorga Ban
McOutcheoa
Copyright, 191$,
By Geo. Ban .
MeCutcheon.
In the opening chapter of "A
Fool and His Money," George Barr
McCutcheon's charming novel, serial
rights for which have been specially
obtained for the Home and Farm
Magazine Section, we learn of the
young man who is telling the story.
He has just written his first novel,
and at the same time has fallen heir
to an immense fortune left him by
his uncle. He is 35 years of age.
The story continues:
(Continued From Last Week.)
FOB the past year I have done little
or no work. My books are few
and far between, so few in fact,
that more than once I have felt the
sting of dilettantism inflicting my
labors with more or less increasing
sharpness. It is not for me to say that
I despise a fortune, but I am con
strained to remark that I believe pov-
erty would have been a fairer friend
to me. At any rate I now pamper
myself to an unreasonable extent For
one thing, I feel that I cannot work
much less think when opposed by dis
tracting conditions such as women, tea,
disputes over luggage, and things of
that sort They subdue all the romantic
tendencies I am so parsimonious about
wasting. My best work is done when
the madding crowd is far from me.
Hence I seek out remote, obscure
places when I feel the plot boiling, and
grind away for dear life with nothing
to distract me save no unconquerable
habit acquired very early in life which
urges me to eat three meals a day and
to sleep nine hours out of twenty-four.
A month ago, in Vienna, I felt the plot
breaking out on me, very much as the
measles do, at a most inopportune time
for everybody concerned, and my secre
tary, more wide-awake than you'd im
agine by looking at him, urged me to
coddle the muse while she was willing
and not to put her off till an evil day,
as frequently I am in the habit of
doing.
It was especially annoying, coming
as it did, just as I was about to set
off for a fortnight's motor-boat trip
up the Danube with Elsie Hazzard and
her stupid husband, the doctor. I com
promised with myself by deciding to
give them a week of my dreamy com-
pany, and then dash off to England
where I could work off the story in
a sequestered village I had had in
mind for some time past.
The fourth day of our delectable ex
cursion brought us to an ancient town
whose name you would recall in an
instant if I were fool enough to men
tion it, and where we were to put up
tor tne night. On the crest of a stu
pendous crag overhanging the river, al
most opposite the town, which isn't far
from Erems, stood the venerable but
unvenerated castle of that high-hand
ed old robber baron, the first of the
Kotnhoefenj. He has seen in his sar
cophagus these six centuries, I am ad
vised, but you wouldn't think so to
look at the stronghold. At a glance
you can almost convince yourself that
he is still there, with battle-axe and
broad-sword, and an inflamed eye at
every window in the grim facade.
"We picked up a little of its history
while in the town, and the next morn
ing crossed over to visit the place. Its
antiquity was considerably enhanced by
the presence of a caretaker who would
never see eighty again, and whose wife
was even older. Their two sons lived
with them in the capacity of loafers
and, as things go in these rapid times
of ours, appeared to be even older and
more sere than their parents.
It is a winding and tortuous road
that leads up to the portals of this
huge old pile, and I couldn't help think
ink how stupid I have always been in
execrating the spirit of progress that
conceives the funicular and rack-and-pionion
railroads which serve to com
mercialize grandeur instead of protect
ing it. Half way up the hill, we paused
to rest, and I quite clearly remember
growling that if the confounded thing
belonged to me I'd build a funicular or
install an elevator without delay. Poor
Elsie was too fatigued to say what she
ought to have said to me for suggesting
and even insisting on the visit
The next day, instead of continuing
our delightful trip down the river, we
three were scurrying to Saalsburg,
urged by a sudden and stupendous
whim on my part, and filled with a
new interest in life.
I had made up my mind to buy the
castle I
The Hazzards sat up with me nearly
the whole of the night, trying to talk
me out of the mad design, but all to
no purpose. I was determined to be the
sort of fool that Uncle Bilas referred
to when he so frequently quoted the old
adage. My only argument in reply to
their entreaties was that I had to have
a quiet, inspirational place in which
to work and besides I was quite sure
we could beat the impoverished owner
down considerably in the price, what
ever it might turn out to be. While the
ancient caretaker admitted that it was
for sale, he couldn 't give me the faint
est notion what it was expected to
bring, except that it ought to bring
more from an American than from any
one else, and that he would be proud
and happy to remain in my service, he
and his wife and his -prodigiously
capable sons, either of whom if put to
the test could break all the bones in
a bullock without half trying. More
over, for such strong men, they ate very
little and seldom slept, they were so
eager to slave in the interests of the
master. We all agreed that they looked
strong enough, but as they were sleep
ing with some intensity all the time
we were there, and making dreadful
noises in the courtyard, we could only
infer that they were making up for at
least a week of insomnia,
I had no difficulty whatever in strik
ing a bargain with the abandoned
wretch who owned the Schloss. He
seemed very eager to submit to my de
mand that ha knock off a thousand
pounds sterling, and we hunted up a
notary and all the other officials
necessary to the transfer of property.
At the end of three days, I was the
sole owner and proprietor of a feudal
stronghold on the Danube, and the joy
ous Austrian was a little father on
his way to the dogs, a journey he had
been negotiating with great ardour
ever since coming into possession of
an estate once valued at several mil
lions. I am quite sure I have never
seen a spendthrift with more energy
than this fellow seems to have dis
played in going throngh with his patri
mony. He was on his uppers, so to
speak, when I came to hie rescue, sole
ly because he couldn't find a purchaser
or a tenant for the castle, try as he
would. Afterwards I heard that he
had offered the place to a syndicate of
Jews for one-third the price I paid,
but luckily for me the Hebraic instinct
was not so keen as mine. They let a
very good bargain get away from them,
I have not told my most intimate
friends what I paid for the castle, but
they are all generous enough to admit
that I could afford it, no matter what
it cost me. Their generosity stops there,
however. I have never bad so many un
kind things said to me in all my life
as have been said about this purely
personal Matter.
Well, to make the atnrv short. fliA
Hazzards and I returned to Schloss
Bothhoefen in some haste, nrimirilv for
the purpose of inspecting it from dun
geon to Dattiement. I forgot to men
tion that, being very tired after the
climb DD the steen. tii ant. nn fnrthaT
on our first visit than the great baronial
hall, the dining-room and certain other
impressive anartmenta enstomarllr knl
open for the inspection of visitors. An
interesting concession on tne part of
the late owner ftha ffentleman linrrv.
ing to catch up with the dogs that had
got a bit of a start on him) may here
be mentioned. He included all of the
Contents of the castln tnr the nriiu
paid, and the deed, or whatever you
.a . ..."
can it, specuicauy set forth that I,
John Bellamy Smart was the sole and
undisputed owner of everything the
castie neia. 'inis made the bargain all
the more desirable, for I have never
seen a more beautiful assortment of
antique furniture and tapestry in
Fourth Avenue than was to be found
in Schloss Bothhoefen.
Our second and more critical survey
of. the lower floors of the castle re
vealed rather urgent necesait-r fnr at.
tensive repairs and refurbishing, but I
was not dismayed. With a blithesome
disregard for expenses, I despatched
Eudolph. the elder of the two sons, to
Linz with instructions to procure arti
sans who could be depended upon to
undo the ravaees of time to a certain
extent and who might even suggest a
remedy xor leaks.
My friends, abhorring rheumatism
and like complaints, refused to sleep
over night in the drafty, almost pane
less structure. They came over to see
me on the ensuing? dar and heaaad mn
to return to Vienna with them. But, full
oi tne project in hand, I would not be
moved. With the houBe full of car
penters, blacksmiths, masons, lock
smiths, tinsmiths, plumbers, plasterers,
glaziers, joiners, scrub-women and
chlmney-sweeos. I felt that I couldn't
go away and leave it without a con
trolling lnnuenee.
They promised to come and make me
a nice short visit, however, after IM
got the castle primped up a bit; the
mould on tne walls of the bedrooms
and the treat fireDlaees trmrnntrMv
cleared of obstructive swallows' nests,
the beds aired and the larder stocked.
Just as they were leaving, my secre
tary and my valet put in an appear
ance, having been summoned from
Vienna tne aay before. I confess I
was glad to see them. The thnnaht nf
spending a second night in that limit
less Dea-cnamner,' with all manner of
night-birds trying to get in at the win
dows, was rather disturbing, and I
corned my retainers with open arms.
My first night had been spent in a
huge old bed, carefully prepared for
occupancy by Hen Sehmlek'i frau;
and the hours, which never were to
dark, in trying to fathom the infinite
space that reached above me to the
vaulted ceiling. I knew there was
ceiling, for I had seen its beams during
the daylight hours, but to save my
soul I couldn't imagine anything to
far away as it seemed to be after the
candles had been taken away by the
caretaker's wife, who had tucked me
away in the bed with ample propriety
and thoroughness combined.
Twice during that interminable night
I thought I heard a baby crying. So
it is not unreasonable to suppose that
I was more than glad to see Poopendyke
clambering up the path with his type
writer in one hand and his green baite
bag in the other, followed close behind
by Britton and the Gargantuan broth
era bearing trunks, bags, boxes and my
golf clubs.
"Whew!" eaid Poopendyke, drop
ping wearily upon my doorstep which,
by the way, happens to be a rough
hewn slab some ten feet square sur
mounted by a portcullis that has every
intention of falling down unexpected
ly one of these days and creating an
earthquake. "Whewl" he repeated.
My secretary is a youngish man with
thin, stooping shoulders and a habit of
perpetually rubbing his knees together
when he walks. I shudder to think of
what would happen to them if he un
dertook to run. I could not resist a
glance at them now.
"It is something of a climb, isn't
itf" said I, beamingly.
(To Be Continued Next Week.)
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