he had some of the contracts signed in his own name, and unless they took him in, they couldn't have the orders. So they had to give in. He became one of the "Co." of the firm.

"But," continued Fisk, "our partnership didn't just turn out very scrumptious. Those Boston merchants are so all-fired respectable. They are too conservative. They think the good name of the house with smaller profits is worth more than a smaller name with bigger profits. We didn't hit it off well together, and the upshot was, they very soon asked me to leave. I did for a remuneration. They paid me sixty thousand dollars to I started in the dry-goods business myself, get out. at the corner of Summer and Chauncey Streets, Boston. But it didn't go. Came to New York with what money I had left. Street operator. Result, lost every cent I had. This was a year ago. Had a silver watch — nary another thing. I was as Am yet, for that matter. rich man yet. They can't have come to you, Uncle, with this Stonington proposition. It will help make you richer, and it'll bring something to Jim Fisk, too.'

I started in as a Wall

flat as a nigger's nose. But I'm going to be a keep me down. And I

I asked him how he proposed to go about the deal.

"I'll tell you," said he. "I learned that there is a Boston crowd that would like to buy out your

interest in the Stonington Railroad. I have found

out who they are.

handle it for you.

Give me the business. Let me I'll go down there and sell one or all of your shares of that road, in a way that will make your eyes open."

We talked it over this way and that. The visit ended by my naming a figure at which I'd let the stock go. He went out. In a few days back he came had the papers all made out, bill of sale, 'contracts, blank receipts everything. I turned over the stock to his Boston people. They paid the money. I got the cash. Fisk made a nice little amount as his commission.

This is the way Fisk and I got acquainted. He handled this sale of Stonington stock so knowing, I saw he was a gumptious fellow. I said to him that if he wanted to start in again as a stock broker, I'd help him along would turn a good share of my business in his direction. He jumped at it. So the firm of Fisk and Belden was formed. Belden

was the partner that I put in with Fisk, in order to accommodate his father, Henry Belden, an old friend of mine. Brother Belden's preaching and testimonies at the camp-meeting grounds outside the village of Sing Sing were, before he got the paralytic stroke, full of power and of the witness of the spirit. He was a camp-meeting shouter, old Brother Henry. To hear his "Glory Hallelujahs" in a love feast would have done your heart good. When I can

do a good turn to a man such as that, I feel like doing it. So I gave his son, young Belden, a chance.

みや痛み

Very soon I was using this firm of Fisk & Belden for most of my important deals. A big operator's business has to be done on the quiet. The relationship between a Wall Street operator and his broker is a close one. In order to manipulate the market, you must keep mum while you are doing it. The broker is the only one besides yourself who knows what you're doing. He is in a position to give you away if he wants to. So I was glad to have a brokerage house that I could be confidential with. Pretty soon Fisk and I were in a lot of deals together, and in Erie most of all.

XXII

HE Erie war was now about to open. It was the biggest fight I was ever in. So

TH

I was glad I had got an able helper like Jim Fisk; for I was going to need partners now as never before.

It was a fight, as anybody might know, between Vanderbilt and me. Pretty much all our lives we have been fighting each other. When he had a good thing, it always kind of seemed as though I wanted it, too; and when I had a good thing, he never slept easy till he had a finger in it. That had been the case with steamboats, and it was now to be the case, also, with the Erie Railroad.

Vanderbilt's make-up and mine were different. I suppose that accounts for our everlastingly crossing horns. His way was to break down opposition, by rushing straight through it; my way was to go around it. He was the dog, I the cat. A cat believes in going soft-footed - in keeping its claws hid till the time comes to show them. A dog goes with a big bow-wow; my plan has always been to go at a thing quieter. A cat won't spring at a dog from in front 'tisn't good tactics. She gets around on

the flank, claws the dog from behind, and so does a
lot of damage without being in any danger herself.
The Commodore was a lordly fellow. He used to
drive a team of horses, and would
go riding up Fifth
Avenue as though he owned both sides of it. His
house was down on Washington Square among the
silk-stockings. In winter he would wear a fur-
lined coat and a stove-pipe hat; was very proud of
his person. As for me, I was never a hand for vain-
glory. Top-boots, such as I used to wear in drover
days, have always been good enough for me. And
I never could see the use of paying expensive prices
to a tailor when you can get a suit ready-made for
less than half the sum. As for cutting a wide swath,
I never did take to it. My turn-out of one horse and
a doctor's gig was good enough for me. When the
Broadway stages started in, they were cheaper yet;
so I used them.

Some of my friends used to scold me because I
didn't dress up. They'd say: "Uncle Dan, why
on earth do
you walk around with such an old stick
as that for a cane?"

But I told them I wasn't

proud. That stick had
almighty good umbrella.
part was of no use any more, I felt it would be a
shame to throw away the stick; because the stick
was in just as good a condition as when I had bought
the umbrella years before.

once been the handle of an
And now that the umbrella

Another difference between the Commodore and