I own a hundred thousand acres of the best land in South America, and I have been in England nearly two years trying to raise capital to develop it.

If I owned a salted reef or an American brewery I could have got the money for the asking.

Because my stock-raising proposition is a sound paying concern, requiring a delay of at least three years before a penny of profit can be realised, I have worn my boots out in climbing up and down office stairs to no purpose.

Out of your L500, nearly L400 went out at once to pay arrears of Government taxation to save my property.

Of the remaining hundred I spent fifty in a fortnight on dinners and suppers given to a gang of top-hatted scoundrels, who, I found subsequently, were not worth a red cent.