taken out a patent for a cheap little article which every one at once
used, and which made a fortune for him. Overholt's instrument took its
place in every laboratory in the world; but the mechanic's labour-saving
utensil took its place in every house. It was on the strength of the
valuable tool of science that Mr. Burnside had invested two thousand
dollars in the Air-Motor without really having the smallest idea whether
it was to be a machine that would move the air, or was to be moved by
it. A number of business men had done the same thing.

Then, at a political dinner in a club, three of the investors had dined
at the same small table, and in an interval between the dull speeches,
one of the three told the others that he had looked into the invention
and that there was nothing in Overholt's motor after all. Overholt was
crazy.

"It's like this," he had said. "You know how a low-pressure engine acts;
the steam does a part of the work and the weight of the atmosphere does
the rest. Now this man Overholt thinks he can make the atmosphere do
both parts of the work with no steam at all, and as that's absurd, of
course, he won't get any more of my money. It's like getting into a
basket and trying to lift yourself up by the handles."

Each of the two hearers repeated this simple demonstration to at least a
dozen acquaintances, who repeated it to dozens of others; and after that
John Henry Overholt could not raise another dollar to complete the
Air-Motor.

Mr. Burnside's refusal had been definite and final, and he had been the
last to whom the investor had applied, merely because he was undoubtedly
the most close-fisted man of business of all who had invested in the