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the trial, I shall win.[69] <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>III.—My Lost Opportunities</h2> THE other day I took a walk with a real estate man. Out in the suburbs he leaned over the wooden fence of an empty lot and waved his hand at it. "There's a lot," he said, "that we sold last week for half a million dollars." "Did you really!" I exclaimed. "Yes," he said, "and do you know that twenty-five years ago you could have picked that up for fifty thousand!" "What," I said, "do you mean to say that I could have had all that beautiful grass and those mullin stalks for fifty thousand dollars?" "I do." "You mean that when I was a student at college, feeding on four dollars a week, this opportunity was knocking at the door and I missed it?" I turned my head away in bitterness as I[70] thought of my own folly. Why had I never happened to walk out this way with fifty thousand dollars in my pocket and buy all this beautiful mud? The real estate man smiled complacently at my grief. "I can show you more than that," he said. "Do you see that big stretch of empty ground out there past that last fence?" "Yes, yes," I said excitedly, "the land with the beautiful tar-paper shack and the withered cedar tree,—the one withered cedar tree,—standing in its lonely isolation and seeming to beckon——" "Say," he said, "was you ever in the real estate business yourself?" "No," I answered, "but I have a poetic mind, and I begin to see the poetry, the majesty, of real estate." "Oh, is that it," he answered. "Well, that land out there,—it's an acre and a half,—was sold yesterday for three million dollars!!" "For what!" "For three million dollars, cold."[71] "Not COLD!" I said, "don't tell me it was cold." "Yes," went on the real estate man, "and only three years ago you could have come out here and had it for a song!" "For a song!" I repeated. Just think of it! And I had missed it! With a voice like mine. If I had known what I know now, I would have come out to that land and sung to it all night. I never knew in the days when I was content with fifteen dollars a week what a hidden gift my voice was. I should have taken up land-singing and made a fortune out of it. The thought of it saddened me all the way home: and the talk of the real estate man as he went made me feel still worse. He showed me a church that I could have bought for a hundred thousand and sold now at half a million for a motor garage. If I had started buying churches instead of working on a newspaper, I'd have been rich to-day. There was a skating rink I could have bought, and a theatre and a fruit store, a[72] beautiful little one-story wooden fruit store, right on a corner, with the darlingest Italian in it that you ever saw. There was the cutest little pet of a cow-stable that I could have turned into an apartment store at a profit of a million,—at the time when I was studying Greek and forgetting it. Oh! the wasted opportunities of life! And that evening when I got back to the club and talked about it at dinner to my business friends, I found that I had only heard a small part of it. Real estate! That's nothing! Why they told me that fifteen years ago I could have had all sorts of things,—trunk line railways, sugar refineries, silver mines,—any of them for a song. When I heard it I was half glad I hadn't sung for the land. They told me that there was a time when I could have bought out the Federal Steel Co. for twenty million dollars! And I let it go.[Illus] <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/087-illus.jpg" width-obs="255" height-obs="400" alt="He showed me a church that I could have bought for a hundred thousand." title="He showed me a church that I could have bought for a hundred thousand." /> He showed me a church that I could have bought for a hundred thousand.</div> The whole Canadian Pacific Railway, they said, was thrown on the market for fifty millions. I left it there writhing, and didn't pick[73] it up. Sheer lack of confidence! I see now why these men get rich. It's their fine, glorious confidence, that enables them to write out a cheque for fifty million dollars and think nothing of it. If I wrote a cheque like that, I'd be afraid of going to Sing Sing. But they aren't, and so they get what they deserve. Forty-five years ago,—a man at the club told me this with almost a sob in his voice,—either Rockefeller or Carnegie could have been bought clean up for a thousand dollars! Think of it! Why didn't my father buy them for me, as pets, for my birthday and let me keep them till I grew up? If I had my life over again, no school or education for me! Not with all this beautiful mud and these tar-paper shacks and corner lot fruit stores lying round! I'd buy out the whole United States and take a chance, a <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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