issuing contrary injunctions. It has been called, "The darkest scene in the history of American jurisprudence." I don't know anything as to that. When you're in business you can't split hairs, or bother over technicalities.

But, anyhow, with the settlement that had now been reached, Vanderbilt had been taken care of; the loss had been saddled on the outside people. That is always the safe way; because, as I guess I've already wrote, the outsiders are so numerous they can't get together and hit back. It must have been one of these outsiders who wrote a poem about this Erie war. I never thought much of the poetry of it. It has always seemed to me no better than a string of foolish jesting. For my part I like hymns better:

Cornelius, the great Cornerer,
A solemn oath he swore,
That in his trouser's pocket he
Would put one railroad more.
And when he swears he means it,
The stout old Commodore.

But brooding o'er the Erie sat —
In fact, on the same lay,
A bird that, feathering his nest,
Affirmed, by yea and nay,

Before he'd budge he'd see them all
Much further than I'll say.

Said he unto the Commodore:

"Your bark is on the sea;

But do not steer for Erie's isle,
Since that's been struck by me.
Go, man of sin, and leave me here
To my theology."

The dearest ties on earth to some
Are plainly railroad ties;

So little wonder that he spoke

In anger and surprise

Tears would not flow; the Commodore,

It seems, had dammed his eyes.

Such "Erie" sights, such “Erie” sounds,
Came from this Erie crew,

It seemed indeed a den of lines
Prepared for Daniel - Drew;

Not strange that he at last resolved
To make his own adoo.

Fleeing from jars perhaps the jug —
Dan looked to foreign lands,

And to his brethren said, "Arise!
These Bonds put off our hands;
We will unto New Jersey, where
My Seminary stands."

Just how the joust may terminate,
Nobody knows or cares.

No need to ask how fares the fight

They'll ask us for our fares,

And whichever side may win, will plow The public with its shares.

So we will sing, Long live the Ring,
And Daniel, long live he;

May his high school confer on him
Exceeding high degree,
Doubling his D's until, indeed,
He is D. D., D. D.

TH

XXVII

HAT "Seminary" spoken of in the poem
was Drew Theological Seminary in Madi-
son, New
New Jersey. My founding of it

came about in this way:

I had been spoken to several times by the preachers who used to visit at my house when they came to New York, say during Conference week or for other occasions, about how fine it would be to establish a great theological institution. I had let them know that I might be willing, when the time should come. Because this was just when the Civil War was over. I was then Treasurer and Managing Director of the Erie Railroad, and was making money so fast I could afford to give some of it away.

So one day a couple of preachers, Brother McClintock and Brother Crooks, came and saw me at my house. I knew what they were coming for, and was there to meet them. It had to be done more or less in formal style. I let them in and had them take

seats.

They said: "We have come to see what spirit you are in, Brother Drew, in reference to the Centenary Movement that is about to be inaugurated.

What offering are you willing to make in token of your gratitude to God for your connection with his Church?"

I answered right up: "I am willing to donate two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the endowment of a Theological Seminary."

It didn't take long to clinch the thing. After five minutes the interview ended. I never shall forget their handclasps and their hearty "God bless you's," as they said good-bye at the door.

We had other interviews. The committee began to suggest to me that this would be a great monument to Daniel Drew, if the school should be established on a large enough scale. I answered that when I put my hand to a thing, I usually did it in proper fashion. In fact I couldn't afford to have my name connected with any institution, if it was to be only a one-horse affair.

"Supposing we should call it 'Drew Theological Seminary,' Brother Drew?"

"Why, brethren, I have just said that if my name is going to be attached to it in so out-and-out a fashion, I shall have to take care of the school and see it through, no matter what it costs." So I said I would give, first, the ground and buildings. Second, as the foundation of a library, twenty-five thousand dollars. For a permanent endowment fund of the Institution, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, as soon as the charter should be secured the following