Australian Tales - Setis

up my clerks who are growing dyspeptic for want of work, and if the
folks outside hear that we are merry in here, it may help my trade, and do
them good too; for mirth is as contagious as melancholy. It's my belief,
sir, that if something could tickle all the business men in Sydney, and
make them roar with laughter, even for ten minutes, that the banks would
relax their hold upon their hard cash, and be glad to accommodate all
their customers, except ‘kite-flyers’ and bubblemongers.”
My friend reclining in his arm-chair, stroked his beard tenderly, and
related the following queer little story (which I have slightly varied), and
if it did not tend to encourage his mercantile hope, it evidently helped to
make him forget his doubts for a while, and to look as waggishly
independent as a man who had neither money nor merchandise to worry
him.
He said that a short time ago a merchant was issuing from his store,
when he met a doubtful customer from the country. “Good morning, Mr.
Linsey; I am just going in to make up a parcel,” said the countryman.
“Humph! a — a — good morning, Mr. Mopus,” stammered the
merchant, who was ruminating on the most delicate way of refusing to
give him a parcel on credit, for he suspected the man was a schemer,
because his competitors in trade said that he sold goods much cheaper
than they could buy them.
“I'm going to pay half cash,” continued the countryman, without
appearing to notice the other's hesitation.
The little word “cash” was as welcome as “whoa” to a jaded cart-horse.
At the magical sound the merchant's eyes glistened like pearl buttons,
while a tinge of yellow happiness overspread his care-wrinkled face, and
he excitedly said, “Pray walk in, sir; we'll do the thing well for you.”
Skipping up three steps at a stride, he preceded his rustic customer to the
wareroom, and, with a look full of honest earnestness, said to his head
salesman, “Mr. Mopus is going to make up a good parcel with us this
morning, Mr. Tabb, so put things in to him at the lowest figure, cut
everything as fine as you possibly can.”
“Yes, sir, certainly,” replied the salesman; and forthwith he began to
draw his customer's attention to some attractive piles of soft goods in the
front warehouse, and to expatiate on the large quantity of scarce articles
“they had in the harbour.”
Mr. Mopus made line upon line, with a pleasant boldness most
cheering to the salesman, for it put him in mind of the golden times,
when everybody was independent; and as his ever-watchful ears had
caught the glad echo of the word “cash,” when it softly floated up the
stairway, he naturally thought that Mr. Mopus was a man of metal. Mr.
Tabb loved his master; so his joy was proportionate, as the countryman
bought package after package of well-paying goods, with a child-like
confidence in the recommendation of the salesman, which, alas, few