ic the
sum of five hundred thousand dollars, at six per cent. The President
was at the time floating a loan of one million dollars for the purpose
of works at the harbor of Whittingham. This astute ruler had, it
seemed, hit on the plan of instituting public works on a large scale
as a corrective to popular discontent, hoping thereby not only to
develop trade, but also to give employment to many persons who,
if unoccupied, became centers of agitation. Such at least was the
official account of his policy; whether it was the true one I saw
reason to doubt later on. As regards this loan, my office was purely
ministerial. The arrangements were duly made, the proper guarantees
given, and in June, 1880, I had the pleasure of handing over to the
President the five hundred thousand dollars. I learned from him on
that occasion that, to his great gratification, the balance of the
loan had been taken up.

"We shall make a start at once, sir," said the President, in his usual
confident but quiet way. "In two years Whittingham harbor will walk
over the world. Don't be afraid about your interest. Your directors
never made a better investment."

I thanked his Excellency, accepted a cigar, and withdrew with a
peaceful mind. I had no responsibility in the matter, and cared
nothing whether the directors got their interest or not. I was,
however, somewhat curious to know who had taken up the rest of the
loan, a curiosity which was not destined to be satisfied for some
time.

The works were begun and the interest was paid, but I cannot say that
the harbor progressed rapidly; in fact, I doubt if more than one
hundred thousand dollars ever found their way into the pockets of
contractors or workmen over the job. The President had some holes dug
and some walls built; having reached that point, about two years after
the interview above recorded he suddenly drew off the few laborers
still employed, and matters came to a dead stop.

It was shortly after this occurrence that I was honored with an
invitation to dine at the Golden House. It was in the month of July,
1882. Needless to say, I accepted the invitation, not only because it
was in the nature of a command, but also because the President gave
uncommonly good dinners, and, although a bachelor (in Aureataland, at
all events), had as well ordered a household as I have ever known.
My gratification was greatly increased when, on my arrival, I found
myself the only guest, and realized that t