The Democratic Leader

BASSMAGERAN'S BATTERY

The elevator in the Conjunctive Bank building had just started on its fifty-first trip. The hour was noon. On this trip the elevator had but one passenger. This was not because people were lacking who wanted to go up, but because it was the unwritten law of the Conjunctive Bank building that when Mr. J. Livingston Jaggers desired to ascend he should have the elevator all to himself. Jaggers was a capitalist and held the heaviest mortgage on the building. Therefore, when Jaggers lumbered into the hall, the usual crowd of business persons and office boys who were waiting to be transported skyward were unceremoniously ejected from the car and left to hurl disparaging comments at Jaggers' legs as they disappeared from view.

Jaggers, as has been stated, was a capitalist; no one knew how much he had. It was currently reported that he was a director in thirty-eight companies and president of thirty-two of them. Every one of these corporations was the offspring of Jaggers; every one had originated in his fecund brain. There was the Patagonian Electric Attraction company, organized to set up electric lights on the pampas in order to attract wild horses, so that the animals might be quietly lassoed while staring at the dazzling illumination, and subsequently sold to circuses; the Gymnotus Electrical company, organized to supply electric eels to families, each family having an eel connected with the bells of the dwelling—the prospectus said that "the advantage of an electric eel over the usual form of battery is manifest, inasmuch as electrical batteries when used up can not be eaten, whereas eels can;" the Electric Pie company, which furnish various substances not naturally eatable in the form of pies, which could be transported "in any weather and in all climates" as ballast for ships, but when subjected to the action of electrical currents, yielded new allotropic compounds not distinguishable in taste from mince pies; the Electric Dun Exterminator company, which promoted a neat contrivance involving a telephone, which would operate only under the influence of the words "I have called to collect that little bill of" etc., etc. At the word "bill" the charge of seventy large Leyden jars was automatically switched through the speaker with the singular effect, as the company's advertisement asserted, "of invariably causing the most obdurate dun to settle the account out of his own pocket:" and finally there was the Tooth Brush Electrical company, which provided tooth brushes which polished the teeth, sharpened them, put in new fillings, and caused them to grow by "electro-galvanic action."

These were merely some of the corporations which Mr. Jaggers had promoted. "Thirty-eight flourishing concerns, sir," he was wont to say to his intimates. "thirty-eight companies on bed-rock basis and the stock of every one of them at par and twenty—"
Then he would gurgle in an impressive manner in his thick throat and pull back his double chin and carelessly extract a check or two from the unopened letters on his desk—there were always unopened letters with checks in them waiting for him apparently—and stop for his visitor to recover from the effect of this announcement.

On the particular day when the elevator made its fifty-first trip, as stated in the beginning, just as Mr. Jaggers stepped into the car, another person endeavored to follow him. But this individual was promptly shoved back, the door was slammed sharply in his face, and the elevator in ascending grazed his nose before he could recoil. Quick as was the attendant, the stranger found time, before the elevator was out of reach to thrust into the lattice-work around it a rather dirty card.

Jaggers saw it—and extracting it from between the wires, read it. It bore the words:
Kvork Bassmageran, Wizard.
N. B.—Electrical things invented to order.
192 East Hegira street, Constantinople, 4th flat.

Jaggers read this over several times attentively, then put it in his pocket, then took it out and perused it again. By this time the elevator had reached Jaggers' floor and was stationary. The attendant respectfully held the door open—but Jaggers stood musing—heedless of the yells and execrations rising up the shaft, by reason of the elevator not coming down.

Finally Jaggers awoke from his reverie. This was after many steps had been heard rushing up the stairs below, these being made by brokers' clerks with belated deliveries and tempers aggregated to positive fiendishness. He stepped into the corridor—and then turning handed the card to the elevator boy—“Bring that man up,” he said briefly.

The elevator at once started down, this time pursued by the anathemas of a man on the top floor who had been waiting for it to come and get him

Two hours later Mr. Kvork Bassmageran emerged from Mr. Jaggers' office with a perplexed expression of countenance. There was no doubt, be it observed, that Mr. Bassmageran was a genuine Oriental. He wore a greasy, black coat of ecclesiastical cut, a dingy fez, no collar—nor ostensible shirt—and exhaled a mild aroma of weak tobacco and otto of roses. As he stepped into the elevator, he abstractedly rolled a cigarette in his fingers, and then seemingly smoked it without lighting it, evidently forgetting to do so. Bassmageran's eyes were black and sharp. The rest of his face had about as much expression as a lump of yellow fig paste—than which it was a few shades darker in color. As the car descended, he sat with his eyes half closed, evidently thinking deeply.

He remained in the elevator when it reascended—and, in fact, stayed therein while it made several trips up and down. Finally, he rose suddenly and tried to walk out while the car was between two floors, and was abruptly pulled back
When he reached the lower floor, the hall porter firmly took him by the arm and marched him out with the sententious information that cranks were not wanted in the building. Bassmageran merely looked at him stolidly and slowly wended his way up the street. Jaggers' confidential clerk said that he had no notion what the old man and the Turk had talked about in the inner office. The conversation had been in whispers. All the confidential knew was that Jaggers had directed him to make out a list of all the stockholders in all the companies, who had not at some time been disagreeable in asking questions or demanding dividends, and to forward to each and every one of these persons an identical note to the effect that Jaggers desired to see him personally on important business that day week.

Meantime one of those mysterious rumors which begin nowhere, but which somehow make themselves felt, began to pervade Wall street. It floated into broker's offices where the lambs baaed it to one another over the enticing tape. It was repeated between mouthfuls of beef salad and drinks of beer at Delmonico's lunch counter. It formed a sort of under current in the Babel of voices of the stock exchange, and was discussed more quietly on the back seats in the bond room.

It was absurd to suppose that anything so utterly intangible and unsupported could influence the market, but it was none the less a fact that the volume of business in stocks perceptibly decreased. Never before had it happened in the experience of Mr. Skeins, the distinguished bull, that his most valuable lamb, immediately on hearing this report, had declined to buy 500 Guatemala Consolidated Air Line, and had abruptly turned his back on the ticker with the remark that stocks were not the best investment now. And the rumor grew and grew.

From whispers in the back office it swelled to loud discussions on the curbstones. The air rang with it, and the chimes of Trinity seemed to take it up and reverberate it into every nook and cranny of the money spinners. There was but one refrain—one burden—and it took form in the words:
"Jaggers has got a big thing!"

Yet not a living soul could tell what Jaggers had got.

To ask Jaggers himself would be to question a sphinx. His demeanor, on receiving the query, depended upon the person who made it. Some he transfixed with a stony glare, which as one dejected individual in describing his sensations said "made him want to creep under the nearest stoop and try to die." To others he replied jocularly and made light of the reports, with a substratum of seriousness, however, easily perceptible through his airy remarks. Others again, and these were the bank presidents and people of that stamp who approached him on other subjects and with painful carelessness turned the conversation in the direction of the rumor, he took to one side and whispered to in a sort of emphatically suppressed way, which sent them off with the same puzzled look which Kvork Bassmageran wore on emerging from Jaggers' lofty office. To a few, a very few, he talked in a low, quiet matter of fact tone, and they listened with rapt attention. With one person he conversed in this way near a coffee and cake stand, the proprietor of which made $5 within five minutes afterwards, by reporting to an enthusiastic young broker some words which he had overheard. The purchase was a disastrous one for the broker. He obtained the following: "Syndicate—million—organization committee—Rothschild" After deep study of "Poor's Manual" and other educational literature the broker became impressed with an ineradicable conviction that this presaged a corner in St. Paul. Whereupon he loaded himself largely with the stock, which on the following day slumped six points, and the broker borrowed five cents back from the coffee and cake proprietor wherewith to get home to Harlem.

The week slowly wore around. Many a capitalist went to bed on each of the seven nights in hopeless bewilderment, incident to hearing one authentic explanation at the Fifth Avenue hotel, another at the Windsor, a third at the Hoffman and still another at the Union League club, and got up in the morning after a sleepless night spent in trying to reconcile these with each other. In the bucket shops Jaggers' scheme became actually the subject of bargain and sale. A special blackboard was erected in each establishment with the word "Jaggers" on top of it, and quotations were made on the basis of what the stock in Jaggers new company would probably be worth put on the market. It was assumed, of course, that there would be a corporation, and that the stock would be at once listed—ultimately So the bucket-shop keepers bet against the public; that is, the public would offer 200 1/4 for Jaggers' stock—whatever it might represent and the bucket-shop keeper in turn stood—presumably obliged to deliver Jaggers stock at that price when he could get it And these quotations, of course, varied, and considerable money was made and lost. Toward the end of the week Jaggers' stock had risen to 328 1-8, spot cash, with the market buoyant. This is how affairs stood in the outer world when thirty-three solid and respectable gentlemen greeted each other with much formality and subdued expectation in the inner world of Mr. Jaggers' office in the Conjunctive bank building, as aforesaid, one week after the visit of Mr Kvork Bassmageran thereto, also as already set forth

Mr. J. Livingston Jaggers leaned back in his heavy armchair with a satisfied smile. One of the thirty-three solid and respectable gentlemen was standing before the long office table with his knuckles resting on the edge, in the attitude of addressing the remaining thirty-two solid and respectable gentlemen.

The white hair of this particular representative of the solidity and respectability of the metropolis stood quite erect, his face glowed with unusual excitement perspiration had wilted his collar on one side, and even his heavy-bowed gold spectacles were somewhat awry, becoming so immediately subsequent to a resounding thump on the table with which the speaker had reinforced a particularly effective period

Mr. Kvork Bassmageran stood leaning on a small box, or chest, which rested on a side table, and which he had covered carefully with a thick drapery of woolen or felt. He still had the same puzzled look as when he left Jaggers' office a week ago, but there was none of the mental abstraction which followed that visit. He was very wide awake and especially solicitous in his care of his box.

The solid and respectable gentleman concluded his speech thus:
"And—ough! puff! gentlemen, what we have seen to-day is—ah—of immeasurable importance. We have ah—taken part in the realization of—ah—a tremendous discovery. Ah! This wonderful apparatus, I am informed by our friend Jaggers, is fully capable of producing—ah—yes, let me see—seven—no, seven hundred bushels of what is it—ohms—yes, ohms—in a square inch—besides more than a mile of volts per week—no, per hour. We shall, in fact, make volts as common in every family as—as—as—beans. Ohms will be laid on every floor of the humblest dwelling. This, gentlemen, is the zenith of discovery—ah —ough—genius—ough—ah—America—Invention—appreciative world—ough—puff—unlimited rewards! (Loud applause.)"

After this peroration each solid and respectable gentleman took another glass of Extra Dry and blinked expectantly at Jaggers.

"Ahem," observed that individual, "is there any one here who has not tested the wonderful capacities of this extraordinary discovery. I would not for a moment ask that any consideration for this enterprise should follow simply upon my expression of confidence in it."

At this point a small and very nervous man, with light brown hair and a high collar, who had timidly seated himself in the background, rose and diffidently asked permission to—to—
"Certainly," replied Jaggers, waiving his hand majestically. "Mr. Bassmageran, will you—"

Bassmageran slowly lifted the heavy drapery and exposed a simple deal box, in one of which appeared a small opening. A crank handle protruded near the top, which the Turk grasped. The nervous man adjusted his eye-glasses uneasily and approached the apparatus, then hesitated and looked at Bassmageran. The Turk smiled reassuringly.

"Ze Hadji will put hims finger right here—right there," said he, pointing to the aperture in the box, out of which a strange, fuzzy, gray object intermittently appeared.

"The end—at the end of my finger?" asked the nervous man.

"Ze knuckle—ze knuckle. Makee haste —verra queeck," replied Bassmageran, vehemently turning the handle.

"Ow! Whoop! Gracious!" yelled the nervous man, jumping several inches into the air, and then cramming his knuckle, on which a small spot of blood appeared, hastily into his mouth.

Jaggers smothered a hasty objurgation in his throat.

"Why—why," ejaculated the sufferer "it was just like a"

Bassmageran had quickly drawn the drapery over the box, from which now arose singular, muffled, rasping sounds, mingled with a sharp sizzling or hissing sound like steam escaping intermittently.

Several of the solid and respectable gentlemen looked alarmed and edged toward the door. The nervous man was with difficulty prevented from climbing out of the window in order to effect his escape by the lightning rod—

"Eet ees nossing," said Bassmageran, hastily, "ze macheenere ees a leetle new —joost a leetle new. I will remove it."
This last in answer to a significant nod from Jaggers.

"Does any gentleman desire a further demonstration," began Jaggers.

A unanimous disavowal of any such desire interrupted him.

"Then, gentlemen, we may proceed to business"

Jaggers seated himself at his desk and opened a huge blank book. One by one each solid and respectable gentleman in turn drew from his pocket a smaller blank book, and each in turn possessing himself of a pen, made certain letters and figures on a long narrow page, which was duly torn out and handed to Jaggers. For each slip of paper Jaggers returned a careful receipt.

After this the solid and respectable gentlemen each took another glass of Extra Dry, and shook hands each with the other and with Mr. Jaggers. They looked casually for Bassmageran.

"He is placing the apparatus in the safe deposit vaults," said Jaggers calmly, in answer to their inquiring glances
"Ah, quite right, quite right," they observed.

As the door closed after the last solid and respectable gentleman, Jaggers rapidly footed up a column of figures.
Two hundred and thirty thousand.
"Hum, not bad that, not bad."

Then he drew out his check book and wrote a check for 230,000—to his own order. He glanced at the clock.
"James," he called.
"Sir."
"Deposit these checks and get this one of mine certified."

James departed. When the door had closed, Jagger went cautiously into the hall, and then opened the door of an unoccupied office. On the floor sat Bassmageran, cross legged—Turk fashion.

Jaggers looked at him severely.

"Well, Meester Jaggers, I sure I did my vera, vera bes. I"
"Yes, oh yes, no doubt, but the next time I rely on you I'll know it. Where is the infernal thing?"

Bassmageran lifted the drapery from the wonderful apparatus and exposed the box.

Jaggers roughly kicked open the lid.
There was a sharp spat, a piercing ma-oow, and the machinery leaped out in the shape of a frightfully exasperated Tom cat, with the fur on its back sadly rumpled, as if it had been vehemently rubbed by something to and fro and in the wrong way, just as one rubs a cat to see the sparks fly

Jaggers threw a twenty dollar gold piece to the Turk, who caught it and submissively touched it to his forehead.

On the day following the meeting in Jagger's office, a huge sign appeared on the front of a prominent building in Wall street, bearing this inscription:
"The Bassmageran Electric Battery Company (limited)."

The stock was put forth. The day before, as we have stated, the bucket-shop quotations were 358 1/8. Not a share was sold for less than 500. The bucket shops went under tumultuously. All of the original promoters, the solid and respectable gentlemen, have sold out at large profit. That is, thirty-two of them did so. The thirty-third member of the syndicate refused to subscribe. He was the nervous man. He said he could understand how an electric shock could produce a queer sensation and be strong and all that, but never, so long as reason held its sway, would he put a cent in an electric battery which bit and had a nose with hair on it.—R. Gomer Guph in Texas Siftings.