“It was Erie Railroad stock.” “Of course, Dr. Ramsdell, your profits will depend upon the price you paid.” This also in a tone of utter indifference. “It was Brother Shaw who paid. The price was 65⅛.” “Aha!” said Cranston. “So the Old Man is bullish on Erie, is he?” “I do not know what you mean, but I know he told me I should read the paper every day and see how much above 65⅛ the price went; and that I would surely hear from him.” “I sincerely hope you will, Doctor. Let me see, will $100 do? Very well, I’ll make out a check for you. Here it is. And now, Doctor, will you excuse me? We are very busy, indeed. Good-morning, Dr. Ramsdell. Call again any time you happen to be down this way.” And he almost pushed the good man out of the office in his eagerness to be rid of him. No sooner had the ground-glass door closed on the Rev. Dr. Ramsdell than Cranston rushed to the telephone and put in an order to buy 1,000 shares of Erie at the best possible price. By doing this before he notified his friends he proved that he himself firmly believed in Erie; also, he bought his stock ahead of theirs and thereby, in all likelihood, bought it cheaper. He then rushed into the customers’ room and yelled: “Hi, there! Everybody get aboard Erie! Silas Shaw is bullish as Old Nick on it. I get this absolutely straight. I’ve thought all along the old rascal was quietly picking it up. It’s his movement and no mistake. There ought to be ten points in it if you buy now.” The firm of Cranston & Melville bought in all, that day, for themselves and their customers, 6,200 shares of Erie, doing as much as anyone else to advance the price to 66½. All that week the reverend doctor was busy collecting subscriptions for the Bolivian Missionary Fund. He was a good soul and an enthusiast on the subject of that particular subscription list. So, he told his parishioners how Brother Cranston had given $100 and Brother Baker, another Wall Street man, $250, and Brother Shaw had promised—he told this with an amused smile, as if at the incongruity of it—to make the stock market contribute to the fund! Brother Shaw had done this by buying some stock for him and had assured him, in his picturesque way, that it would come out O.K. in a week or two. Everybody to whom he told that fact developed curiosity regarding the name of the stock itself. They showed it in divers ways, according to their various temperaments. And as he had told some he felt that he should not discriminate against others; so, he told to all, impartially, the name of the stock. It would not harm Brother Shaw, he supposed—and he supposed rightly. He experienced, in a gentle, benevolent, half-unconscious sort of way, something akin to the great Wall Street delight—that of “giving a straight tip” to appreciative friends. The Bolivian Missionary Fund grew even beyond the good man’s optimistic expectations.