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the most part poor men to-day. Whilst all of that time I was giving myself to business, and piling up money.

But now I saw that I could turn this very thing of war into a helpful friend. Because, with

, McClellan's Peninsular Campaign, a tall business began in Wall Street. I found myself getting really interested in the movements of armies and suchlike things. For now it stood me in hand to keep track of the doings at the front. In fact, we financial men organized a way for getting early news from the seat of war. A silver key will open any kind of a lock. We had on our pay-roll sutlers, reporters,

. Also, there were politicians in Washington, even a Congressman or two, whom we used to pay. .

We found that it was a good plan also to have an understanding with telegraph operators, because when they were sending important messages to the Government from the seat of war, they could favour us by sending the news also to us -- sometimes before they sent it to Washington. Big officials who wouldn't accept money could usually be reached by giving them some shares in the stock we were manipulating. We didn't dare make offers of this kind to Abe himself. Lincoln was an unpractical man, so far as making money went. All he thought about was to save the Union. He used to get very peevish at some of us money kings.) During

వారు కాదు అనుకుంటు ను వారు అనుకుంటు తనములు

these days of the War we who were on the inside could call the turn of a stock long before the general public.

This made very profitable business. In fact, I got to taking a great interest in the Boys in Blue. I came to look upon them as heroes. Their pay, to be sure, would have to come out of the taxes. We rich men would have to foot most of the bill. Still, I didn't let that thought bother me. I felt that the Boys in Blue, sometimes tramping all night through fever swamps and across mountains, or lying in the camp hospitals sick and wounded and dying, earned all the monthly pay they got. Because they were beating the waters, so to speak, and we in Wall Street were getting the fish. There was the Antietam Campaign, for instance. It was worth a good deal to a Wall Street speckilator, that one campaign. Because, whilst the people all through the North were still wondering what was the fate of that expedition, we, by our underground telegraph lines, so to speak, knew the outcome of the campaign, and turned it to such good use in the stock market that we made almost enough from that one deal to pay the wages of every Boy in Blue in that army.

When Richmond was finally taken, I for one was sorry to have the War come to an end, so great had been my change of view towards the whole affair.

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NE day, big Bill Tweed dropped in on

me at my house on Union Square. He

had got interested in Erie speckilations some time before, and as I was the head and front of Erie, he used to come to see me in regard to turns in the stock. His old Bowery boys, anyhow, had been in large part butchers' apprentices. I had known the New York butchers since earliest days. So I had been in close touch with Tweed's rank and file for a long time back, even when he was foreman of the “Big Six” Engine Company, and had got into trouble with that other engine company for blocking their way to a fire so his company could get there first. (It had been those butcher boys then which had stood by him and had helped him out of that trouble.) So, when he went into politics, I was glad to get in with him personally, because he was becoming a person of importance in the affairs of the city. It's always an advantage to a big operator in the Street to be on personal terms with political leaders.

Tweed had in turn seen that it stood him in hand to be on intimate terms with me. After he had

got out of the chair business, which his father had built up before him down on Pearl Street, he had got into Erie speckilations good and deep. Erie shares had got to be the leading speckilation on the market. For, as head of that road, I had found ways of using its shares in Wall Street whereby I could sometimes make a turn of ten points in Erie inside of a month. A stock that bobs back and forth as suddenly as that, is going to be followed by a great crowd of speckilators. Tweed was one of these. He thought he could make more money speckilating in Erie than he could by making chairs. So he gave up that business, and put all of his

all of his money into Wall Street mostly into Erie.

On the day that I am speaking of, I saw that he was grumpy over these Erie ventures of his. He was as cross as two sticks. I used to take


visitors up into the sitting room on the first floor, facing the Square. (Why, in the plush rocking-chair in that room, Jimmy Fisk sat and talked with me the very morning of the day he was shot.) Well, as soon as Tweed came in and was seated, I saw at once that he was all het up about something or other. He started right in. He said I and my Erie crowd were no better than a crew of bloodsuckers; and he swore profanely. He had been brought pretty near to busting up, so he said. And he told of the pile of money he had lost, how it had crippled him


and such-like.

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I let him go on. It's a good thing to let a loser talk. I could well believe that what he was saying about his losses in Erie was true. Because he had been one of the outsiders in that stock. What's the use of being on the inside if you don't have the advantage over speckilators who are on the outside? And he had been one of these. Green wood makes the hottest fire — it's so full of sap. But I didn't say these things to Tweed. I was afraid it would only make him madder. Soft words quench more than a bucket of water. already mad enough, goodness knows. He pawed around like a horse with the colic — said that the

points I had given him on Erie hadn't been worth a hill of beans. He even said I had fooled him on purpose!

“And a pretty go you've brought me to, Dan Drew,” said he. He sputtered like a tea-kettle when it's boiling over. Tweed was a big, thickmouthed fellow; when he got excited he would spit out his words so you could hardly understand him. “You have gone and drained me dry! Busted me! Busted my father, too! The old man's all broke up over it! He says I've taken the bread out of his mouth to pour into Wall Street. I can't go

home any more without he curses me up hill and down. He says he'll throw it in my teeth at Judgment Day for taking the bread out of an old man's mouth. And the business is gone! — That dad of

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