a company promoter was septimus sharpe,

and the subject is he of this ditty;

he'd his name—nothing more—

painted on the glass door

of an office high up on the toppermost floor

of a house in throgmorton street, city.

the companies which he had promoted, so far,

had not—so to speak,—been successes.

as a matter of fact,

he had often to act

in a manner requiring considerable tact

to—financially—keep out of messes.

one day there appeared—sharpe could never tell how,—

in a costume unusually airy,

a young lady. "dear me!

how surprising!" said he.

"now, who upon earth can this young person be?

is it possible? why! it's a fairy!"

"you are right, septimus," said the fairy—"quite right,

for, in fact, i'm your fairy grandmother!"

sharpe had to confess,

"i already possess

two grandmothers. but," said he, "nevertheless,

in your case, i will welcome another.

"especially if, fairy grandmother dear,

your intentions are—pardon me,—golden.

i'll be pleased, if my till—

or my coffers—you'll fill,

as,—like a good fairy,—i've no doubt you will;

then to you i'll be greatly beholden."

the fairy she smiled, as, quite sweetly, she said:

"you're mistaken, my dear young relation.

there's no fairy displays

in these up-to-date days,

her powers in such crude and old-fashioned ways—

no! i bring you an imagination.

"but exercise it, and you quickly will find

from your pathway all troubles are banished!"

she waved a small wand,

with a look sad yet fond,

then, into the far and the distant "beyond"

sharpe's good grandmother suddenly vanished.

the spell she had cast very quickly began

in his brain to engender a vision.

he imagined a mine

filled with gold, pure and fine,

and a lovely prospectus began to design

every item worked out with precision.

he imagined big dividends; profits galore;

and some dukes he imagined directors.

and "the public should share,"

he went on to declare,

"in such wealth as should cause the whole nation to stare."

there were thousands—in shares—for projectors.

then he went on imagining mine after mine,

with prospectuses most high-faluting.

and the public they fought

for the shares he had brought

to the market (they "safer than houses" were thought);

and each day some new company was mooting.

* * *

(extra special.)

that he grew passing rich is a matter of course.

all his wealth to his wife he made over.

* * *

there has been a great smash;

company's gone with a crash.

gone also, i hear, has the shareholders' cash.

but, septimus sharpe—he's in clover.