CONFIDENCE BEGETS CONFIFIDENCE.

Thames Star, Volume VIII, Issue 2866, 23 April 1878, Page 3

CONFIDENCE BEGETS CONFIFIDENCE.

A well-known *Paris banker has fallen a victim during the summer to this business principle. He is fond of good living, dresses like a dandy, but is close in his dealings with his fellow-creatures. At Kojat, where he went to take the waters, he met the most absent-minded of the Academicians—a philosopher who works out intricate problems, while tearing off the buttons of his waistcoat, and stands against a wail staring into vacancy, and leaving bystanders under the impression that he is not only blind but mad. While the banker was tranquilly reading a newspaper in the casino, the philosopher fixed his eyes upon his neighbor's white duck trousers, and began fidgetting the inkstand with the end of the slip of wood generally fastened to the different newspapers in all public reading rooms, where visitors are too apt to confiscate and appropriate journals which promise to amuse them. The result was that the inkstand, pushed to the very end of the table, hung for a second in the balance, and then, toppling over, emptied its contents over the snowy white ducks of the unsuspecting banker. The banker jumped up, and, shaking the almost unconscious philosopher by the shoulder, showed him the damage he had done, and insisted that the pantaloons must be paid for. The philosopher said he would send the money to the banker's in less than an hour. The banker suspecting that the shabby little man wanted to avoid payment, demanded thirty francs then and there. The philosopher asked for a receipt and paid the money. Then, turning to the bystanders, he said—Now, gentlemen, your are witnessess that I have paid for the trousers, and I trust you will support my reasonable request that the article of dress that I have purchased may be at once* placed in my possession 1" A laugh ran round the room as the Academician advanced towards the financier, and demanded the property he had acquired. The wearer of the ducks promised to deliver them within an hour, but the philosopher would not trust him. The banker was finally compelled to retire to a private room, take off the trousers, push them out to the purchaser, and remain in seclusion for an hour while his servant was despatched to his lodgings to fetch another pair. The banker is now known at the bourse as " Sans-Culottes."