It has always seemed a marvelous thing how a man becomes rich. When I consider the tribulations that most have merely to get themselves food and to keep their clothes intact, the accumulation of wealth becomes a mystery, and the man who accumulates it a Titan. I cannot help but admire them for it. I cannot help but admire my grandfather, nor can I help but admire Eliphalet Greer. He was not always rich. You can still see the little farm by the marshes where he was born. In 1808 he left home with his clothes in a bundle. He too must have earned his pittance before he learned the secret of King Midas. During that hiatus of years when he was away from home, he too must have lain like the rest of us, covered by the deep loam of mediocrity, before he suddenly blossomed forth, inspiring in his g
