turned out, it was his last. From becoming a great statesman and a moulder of public opinion, Tweed, because of this Harlem affair, had suddenly taken a fall. For when he and his Aldermen passed Vanderbilt's Broadway franchise measure, it had been in violation of Judge Duer's injunction, and Duer got so mad that he up and put the whole Board of City Fathers, Tweed along with the rest, in jail. Tweed was terribly worked up over it. He saw that he couldn't be a statesman and a leader of public opinion, after such a mishap as that; and he got almighty sore about it. To mention Harlem to him now was like a red rag to a bull. He sputtered and swore so profanely, when I'd try to talk with him about it, that I saw it wasn't much use.

Nevertheless, I used it as an argument with Vanderbilt. Going to the Commodore again, I told him that I had come to make a settlement if he was in the mood for it. I hinted that I had more or less of an inside track with the law courts of New York City, since I knew some of the politicians pretty close; and that if he wanted to fight it out to a finish, I could make a peck of trouble for him. He knew that I was more or less in with Tweed, the Street Commissioner of New York City, and his crowd, and Vanderbilt's future plans had a whole lot to do with the use of New York City streets. We came to a settlement. Vanderbilt had a lot of enterprises under way, and didn't want to get into

settled

It cost me well

litigation if he could help it - he said he didn't
have time to bother. So we hit upon a figure at
which I could settle my contracts.
I wrote my
check, and the thing was finished.
nigh half a million. But I was glad to get out
even at that figure. Because it left me something,
and for a time it looked as though I might be stripped
of all my goods. When you're cornered in selling
shares short, you are in a terrible fix. The fellow
who has cornered you, if he is so minded, can take
every last cent you've got. Because, as I have put
it in the form of a poem (I'm not much of a rhymer,
but I suppose I could have turned my hand to verse-
making if I had set my mind to it):

"He that sells what isn't his'n,

Must buy it back, or go to prison."

પ્રેમ

This Harlem corner did me more hurt than just the loss of the money. To hand over a halfmillion in cold cash did me lots of damage. And I couldn't blame it on anybody else, either. I felt like a cow that had stuck herself. Besides, it hurt me in the Street. They snickered at me now when I was coming to my office, or going home at night would nudge each other when they saw me passing, and whisper: "He went short of Harlem." In fact, that got to be a saying on the Street, to mean any kind of a hard-luck blow.

The poor legislators at Albany also were hard hit by the corner. Some of them had to leave Albany at the end of the session without paying their boardbill. As for me, I spit on my hands and took a new holt.

XX

HE Harlem loss made a big hole in my heart. And some might suppose that

TH

I was so in the dumps by it that I became sour and backslided from religion. But they would be mistaken. I know there are people who serve God only so long as they are prosperous. When an unlucky stroke falls, they curse religion. But I don't. It doesn't do any good. Spit against Heaven, and it will fall back into your own face. Besides, the Lord doesn't guarantee to make a man prosperous in each and every undertaking. It isn't all butter that comes from the cow; only a part is worked up into butter; and in some churnings the butter won't come at all, no matter how hard you work the splasher.

Besides, I have found that religion is often most needed just in the times when you are in the dumps.

"From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sure retreat;
'Tis found beneath the mercy seat.'

More than that, I had by this time invested a

whole lot of money in my church, and couldn't afford to lose it. The trustees of the old Mulberry Street Meeting House, when they saw the people moving up town, wanted to move the church up also, and be in the heart of the residential district. I helped this plan along. It wasn't fit, now that I had become one of the money kings, that I should worship in a dingy building down on Mulberry Street. I told the trustees I would help them build a new meeting house. They jumped at the offer. That big marble structure on Fourth Avenue, at the corner of Twenty-second Street, is the result.

We had big doings when the new church was finally dedicated. It happened, I remember, on a Sunday morning in early May. Dr. Durbin preached the sermon. His text was: "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world." Dr. Durbin was a master hand at theological exposition. He knew as much about the fine points of doctrine as 'most any man I ever met. He was learned in the Scriptures. He was an advocate of free grace, and could argue for hours, for he was a man of strong convictions. He felt the importance of right theological thinking. In fact, he never seemed so happy as when he was upholding the true Faith and attacking dangerous forms of doctrine. He was a positive man; so much so that in matters of theology he and I didn't always agree. But I had to admire his courage. The Prophets of the