Mr. Binns And The Bishop A Financial Story, Albert Fleming [book recommendations .TXT] 📗

The Rev. Timothy Binns was a frail little man, with sandy hair, pale eyes, and a receding chin. His shoulders sloped like a champagne bottle, and he was only five feet four. He always dressed in rusty black. Notwithstanding these personal drawbacks, he is now a Canon of the Church, and people who are supposed to know say he is on the high road to a Bishopric.

This story will reveal how he got his Canonry.

The See of Saffron Walden was held just then by good old Bishop Potter. He had been Bishop twenty years, and during all that time had been chiefly occupied in writing his great work on the Abyssinian Church. Five volumes had appeared, and two more would complete this monument of erudition; it is true that the sale was extremely limited, and nobody ever dreamt of reading it. At intervals he presented copies to specially favoured clergymen, who received the gift with consternation and dismay, for it entailed more or less study of the ponderous volumes, to be followed by a demand on the Bishop's part for an interchange of views on complicated points open to controversy.

The Bishop added to his profound learning a childlike ignorance of the world and all its ways. To all intents and purposes, he lived in Abyssinia and seldom emerged from the 4th Century. Now it fell out one day that he was rather pinched for ready money to bring out the sixth volume of his immortal work, so it occurred to him he would sell out a little nest-egg he had in Consols, spend part in publishing volume six, and re-invest the balance.

Casting his eyes down his newspaper one morning he saw an advertisement from a firm of Stockbrokers, who explained with admirable precision how "a cover" of £20 could command many hundred pounds of stock; in fact, if their clients only followed their advice, even £5 in their hands would realise fabulous returns and with absolutely no risk; you sent the money and they did the rest. Thus clearly he saw his way with great facility to recoup himself, not only for all the expense of publishing the past five volumes, but all the cost of the forthcoming sixth volume.

With a beautiful simplicity, he at once sent a cheque for £50 to Messrs. Law and Constable--that was the name of the enterprising firm, and the very name seemed to the episcopal mind to inspire confidence. He desired them to deal with the money in whatever way seemed to them most suitable, and having received a most courteous reply by return of post, he dismissed the matter from his mind and reverted to Abyssinia and the 4th Century. It is true that he had to emerge at intervals, for that first letter was followed by many others, most of which were perfectly unintelligible to the Bishop. Still, they conveyed a vague idea to him that his financial matters were greatly prospering, and it appeared that his £50 had made £300; this struck the Bishop as a beautiful example of how you might cast your bread on the waters and find it unexpectedly returned to you greatly increased in a few days. He was, therefore, filled with much contentment and peace.

Then, after a time, the tone of the letters changed--"Bears" appeared on the scene, who apparently worked deadly mischief; the Bank rate also proved itself obnoxious, money got "tight," and there were claims for mysterious things called "contangoes" and "carry-overs." Now, the Bishop had arrived at a most important period in the history of the Abyssinian Church, and was far too absorbed to answer these business letters; he calmly put them on one side.

Next, one terrible day, a letter came saying a company in which the Bishop all unknowingly held shares, had begun to "make calls," and he was requested to send a cheque for £100. Then two more mines, bearing the unholy names of "Tambourine Sal" and "Jumping Jennie," went entirely to smash, and a cheque for £300 was demanded. That morning the Bishop ate no breakfast; he sat blinking at the fire, the very picture of misery. Heresy in the 4th Century he could cope with, but modern finance was beyond him. Corporations and companies have no souls, so what is the good of excommunicating them?

It is now that the Rev. Timothy Binns appears on the scene. He called that very morning with a letter of introduction from Archdeacon Masters. The Bishop loathed this particular Archdeacon, for he had openly reviled the great historical work, and moreover, he made the Bishop's life a burden to him on questions of Cathedral Reform and educational matters; therefore, when Timothy appeared with his letter the Bishop groaned in spirit, but thought it better to take the line of least resistance, and see him. Timothy slithered into the study in his usual apologetic manner.

"I am not well this morning," said the Bishop, waving him to a chair, "I have much business annoyance of a financial character, and can only give you a brief interview."

Timothy groaned softly to express his sympathy, and laid his little matter before the Bishop in a commendably concise way.

The Bishop did what he was asked to do, and then his heart yearned for sympathy.

"I regret," said little Mr. Binns, "that your lordship is suffering from business annoyance. I have had myself some practical business experience. Could I be of any service?"

"Well," said the Bishop, "I have been induced to go into a little speculation--I should say, to make a few investments--and they have entailed heavy loss; the matter is attended with many complications."

In a moment Timothy was on the alert; he leant forward, a light in his little pink eyes, "I myself, my lord, have occasionally indulged in a few investments, and, in the deplorable slang of the streets, 'I know the ropes '--my experience is quite at your service."

Then the Bishop unburdened his soul and made a full confession. He shewed Timothy the dreadful letters and accounts, and to his great relief the little curate grasped the position in a moment, and, strange to say, he was perfectly familiar with Messrs. Law and Constable, and had the very worst opinion of them. It all seemed A.B.C. to him; he explained that it was simply a case of extortion, and he undertook, if the Bishop would only give him a free hand, to deliver him from the snare of these fowlers.

The Bishop felt as if he could have fallen on his neck and embraced him. He at once placed the whole matter in his hands and wound up by saying "If you can only get me out of this unfortunate dilemma you will find, Mr. Binns, that I am not ungrateful."

"It is a sincere pleasure no less than a duty," said Timothy, not to be outdone in politeness, as he tied up the letters and accounts in a neat little bundle, "and now I must ask for a letter to your lordship's solicitors directing them to take such steps as I may find to be necessary."

The letter was written and addressed to a very eminent firm in Ely Place. Timothy tried to put new heart into the Bishop when he took his leave by saying "Do not allow this matter, my lord, to cause you any uneasiness; any action on these rascals' part must necessarily fail, as the matter is of the nature of a gambling transaction," but the Bishop felt that for him to figure in the papers as a party to a gambling transaction only added a new horror to the position.

The scene changes from the Bishop's study to the City offices of Messrs. Law and Constable. Telephone bells were ringing, doors banging, and clerks running in and out without their hats, as is the airy custom of the gentlemen of the Stock Exchange. About twelve o'clock you might have seen the door open softly, and the shabby figure of the little Curate slipping in; one hand held a small black bag, and the other grasped the faithful old umbrella.

As all the clerks seemed too busy to notice him, he coughed softly to draw their attention, and said, "I beg your pardon, is either of your firm within?" "Got an appointment?" asked one of the clerks, not looking up. "I regret to say I have no appointment." "Firm's engaged--what can I do for you?" "If it is possible, I wish to see the Firm itself." "Then sit down and wait." So Timothy meekly sat down on the extreme edge of a very hard bench--his head was slightly on one side, his black-gloved hands were crossed on his umbrella, his eyes were closed, and his lips moved as if he were repeating inward prayers. Clerks and clients rushed in and out, knocked over his hat, and fell over his feet, and he always murmured, "Oh, I beg your pardon!" They never did.

He afforded unbounded amusement to the clerks, one of whom chewed a pellet of blotting paper and flipped it at him. As it adroitly hit him on the nose, he smiled a sickly smile and said, "Thank you so much; I daresay you thought I was slumbering; I really was wide awake." And most truly he was; during that quiet half hour of waiting he had seen everything out of his half-closed eyes; he had noted the method of business and the class of clients; not a word uttered by clerks or callers had escaped his keen ears. When eager customers rushed in and demanded, " What's Canpacs ?"What's Berthas?" he could have answered their questions off-hand.

Shortly afterwards he was ushered into the private room of the Firm, where Messrs. Law & Constable received him with dignified affability. He seemed overcome with diffidence, and nursed his little black bag and blinked and stammered. Then, to make things easy for him, the Firm said, "We daresay you have called to indulge in a little speculation; the unfortunate position of the Tithe question presses hardly on the clergy just now; we have many clients in your profession; we may add, in confidence, the Bishop of Saffron Walden is one of our most valued customers; and now, what can we do for you?"

Mr. Binns opened his eyes and murmured, "Thanks so much, but just now I am not wishing to make any investment myself. You have named the Bishop of Saffron Walden; that is so very singular, as I have called to-day on behalf of the Bishop to talk over his affairs with you."

Messrs. Law and Constable stiffened when they heard this, and Mr. Law said, "You have doubtless brought the Bishop's cheque for the £300; it has been long overdue."

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Binns, "the Bishop's cheque; I am sorry you have had to wait for it. Then he dived into his little bag and fished out a bundle of papers; they were all neatly tied with red tape--letters and accounts docketed and arranged in date.

"There are a few questions I have to ask; we clergy are such bad men of