"Why, you galoot, you get a clerk!" cries he. "One of
our dead beats--that's all they're here for. If you're
a successful operator, you need never do a stroke of
work in this old college."
The noise had now become deafening; and my new friend,
telling me that some one had certainly "gone down,"
that he must know the news, and that he would bring me
a clerk when he returned, buttoned his coat and plunged
into the tossing throng. It proved that he was right:
some one had gone down; a prince had fallen in Israel;
the corner in lard had proved fatal to the mighty; and
the clerk who was brought back to keep my books, spare
me all work, and get all my share of the education, at
a thousand dollars a month, college paper (ten dollars,
United States currency) was no other than the prominent
Billson whom I could do no better than follow. The
poor lad was very unhappy. It's the only good thing I
have to say for Muskegon Commercial College, that we
were all, even the small fry, deeply mortified to be
posted as defaulters; and the collapse of a merchant
prince like Billson, who had ridden pretty high in his
days of prosperity, was, of course, particularly hard
to bear.
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