Portfolio
A lesson on gambling
Nephew Wilde
It was time to have more than the usual laconic telephone conversation with Wotherspool, the stockbroker who has been handling my investments over recent weeks. Frankly I
was not impressed by the performance of my shares and a cursory glance at the table below will tell you why.
So to put myself more in the picture about _ the market I asked Wotherspool to tea last Tuesday. As it turned out I had him on my hands for five hours as he invited himself to dinner. Nor was I really rewarded with any sensible information on my shares since, to all specific questions, Wotherspool would try and allay my fears with "But it's a damned good long-term holding, old boy." In fact, I constantly had to remind him of our conversation after Aunt Maude'_s funeral when he had first advised me to invest my legacy in equities.
When I mentioned this, however, Wotherspool grasped the lead that he had been waiting for. He denounced in no uncertain terms gamblers, speculators and "the John Bulls" of this world. And to illustrate his point he told countless stories of his days in Australia, where his firm had sent him at the peak of the mining boom. He was utterly horrified (or so he told me) at the way every Tom, Dick or Harry had suddenly gone berserk at the prospect of making a fortune on the stock exchange. His first real taste of this frenzied market was when he met the chairman of a mining company (formerly a truck driver), who had just returned from visiting one of his claims. In an inebriated condition he . gave the public what they wanted when he told them of the discovery of enormous deposits of sulphide. As a result the shares rocketed, and., the former truck driver became, a' mil
,lionaire overnight. Then came the -.facts. The company had been starting
• some exploratory work on a new claim and, in the usual way, •the workers' first task was to look around for a likely spot to bury their beer. After only a few pounds' of sand had been shifted shovels came in contact with something hard. This, said the geologists with them, more as a joke than anything else, was sulphide. And, that's how at least one fortune was made.
Wotherspool enjoyed himself in :-.Australia, largely since he found himself attracting attention in fringe Perth society circles, whereas in London the poor fellow attracts only ,-opProbium. However, with the sun 'setting over the mining boom, it was ;:time for him to be recalled. His final -memory of the fever that the Mining boom had caused was when he
• received a telephone call one morning that went like this: "What's the doing, Mr. Wotherspool?" Everyone's in turmoil, old chap," " Then yur betta buy me 1,000 Tur.
• moil, Mr. Wotherspool."
"That," said Wotherspool as I showed him the door, "should be a lesson for you on gambling. If you want a good share, however, buy some A. J. Mills, the food group. — • something might be happening soon." I pondered, this cryptic advice and gave him an order to buy 1,000..
Previous page
