opened with the usual complimentary references to the peculiar
personal fitness of the clergyman for the proposed enterprise, and
went on to state that, in exchange for genuine greenbacks, Ragem &
Co. would furnish in the proportion of fifty to one imitations so
absolutely perfect that the most experienced bank officers could
not distinguish the difference. Rev. Zachariah Sapp,--for such was
the euphonious name of the preacher,--after an attentive perusal of
the flattering proposal, deposited the document in his coat-pocket
for convenience of reference. Having pondered the subject for a
day or two, he decided to write to Ragem & Co. for more explicit
information.

Divining with the peculiar instinct of the guild the character of
the fish now nibbling at the naked hook, the cheat resolved to risk
a little bait, and accordingly sent by return mail a genuine one-
dollar note, with a written invitation both for a reply and a
personal conference.

Never before did the Rev. Zachariah Sapp subject a piece of paper
to such scrutiny. Both with the naked eye and with a microscope,--
a relic of collegiate days,--he studied the engravings and filigree
work. Detail by detail he compared the supposed imitation with
bills of known genuineness without being able to discover the
slightest point of variation between them. Paper, printing, and
engraving seemed to be absolutely perfect. While the study was
progressing, the imagination of the clergyman soared through the
empyrean of dazzling expectations. Why continue to toil hard for a
small pittance when the golden apples were hanging within easy
reach? Why drag out an existence in penury when wealth and its
joys were thrust upon him?