cipated such schemes as the Crédit Mobilier, and the selling of imaginary silver mines to sanguine English investors; but none of these ventures have equalled the original. Then a Scotchman could sell a French regent a league of Louisiana swamp for three thousand livres, while now we have "puts" and "calls" on railroad stocks that are just as swampy. Ah, but we cannot do such magnificent swindling in Wall Street! The good American is as "cute" as the evil one, and both are "cuter" than the William Laws. He spoilt all by dying poor, while our modern speculator dies rich, even after he is ruined! Poor Law, if he had only known how to go into bankruptcy, or to settle his estate on his wife !

But there were solid business-men in those last centuries as well as speculators. In New York and Boston, at the close of the Revolution, there were merchants of ability and energy, stanch, steady heads of houses, without a particle of folly or romance about them. Such men might live over their shops, or might have ships trading in the Levant. Men who were the direct progenitors of some of our best modern houses got a respectable and honest living out of coffee and sugar, or in butter and eggs, and were esteemed for their principles. Such men got influence, and went about making their country's history. Theirs was an absolutely unique position. While lawyers played the leading characters on the stage, there were times when a businessman was asked for, and a John Jay stepped forward. The lawyer and soldier gave his country his brain; but the business-man added to that gift the product of his brain, - his money. He had calculation and prudence about him; and, though the pet of Fortune,

he never presumed on her favors. Strangely, the troubled times in which his lot was cast well served his sagacity. His tact developed into genius, and his gains were only measured by his credits. He knew no "bulls," and he never felt the mercy of "bears." Bon chien chasse de race; and, like the speculator, the old-fashioned merchant has his heirs in our time. When that American history is written, it will tell of these steady-going merchants of to-day, who are masters of many situations, and who are even wiser and stronger than their honored fathers. We want such men more now than we ever did before. In the twenty-five years since 1859, how many such men have there been! They do not fritter away time and talents in speculation. Their habits are of steady application. Their ways are respected. The self-styled capitalist is shy of entertaining proposals which are already prejudiced in the opinion of steady-going business-men. That which they accept is launched handsomely. If real business-men push a railway scheme, the public has no fear of what the Law and Ward element may do. The undertakings of the solid element are measured by its ambition and energy, rather than its resources; and it is not strange to see a million of capital follow in the road a single dollar has cut.

resigned to the life of swindlers. Their dinners, equipages, and other extravagance become parts of a system of imposture. They dare not do aught else than to try and maintain their position; and they strain every nerve for that purpose, until the morning comes when we read of their suspension, and in the crash the creditors are dismayed. It is a relief to a once honorable man to lose all, and make a clean breast of his folly. His only regret is that he may have cast his character after his fortune into the vortex of speculation. But if he hasn't done any act of overt criminality, he has come off better than he deserves, and can show that he has no moral liabilities. If the contrary is the case, the means did not justify it. From such means we shrink. If a well-known business-man goes openly into speculation, and is known as the promoter of a stock enterprise, we throw stones at him when he suspends. We cannot help it, and we do not want to help it. The public wants the business-men to do that which they advise the cobbler to do,—“stick to his last." If he fails to keep to that little law of conduct, he is supposed to be worthy of suspicion.

Imagine how it will tell in that coming American history, that a most wonderful event was an assignment! As the story of Law's bubble and its bursting has amused us, so will our children be interested in reading of the crashes, suspensions, and panics of the last half of the nineteenth century. We are too near them, and too much in them, to realize how tragic, grotesque, and melancholy they are. But, when it comes to the fall of a real rascal, we can realize that; for such a person is known where the quiet business-man is not. You knew this rascal, and everybody did. He was smooth, seductive, and

fashionable. He took liberties with the public credulity. He had talent and enterprise, and made a big show. He had gold-letter prospectuses, elegant offices, a sumptuous reception-room, and magnificent house, horses, and plate. He was puffed by the press. He was a lion in society, and gave grand entertainments. He subscribed largely to charities, and to churches and schools. He had lots of money; because, for some unexplainable reason, the public took in his scheme, and invested liberally in the stock that he sold. Then came the re-action. Insolvency followed close on inflation. The bankrupt became defendant in a legion of transactions. He was alleged to be a fraud. His establishments were in the hands of a keeper. He was in the last throes, when presto! he came up smiling. He had made friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; he had it in his power to involve others: immediately he had all the help he wanted, and he slipped through the fetters he should have worn. He had money laid by for the emergency, his broken character at once stepped forward again, and, before the scandal of his failure was cold, he was once more in the full tide of business. That was your sharp American gentleman rascal.

The Old World has made marvellous progress in the ways of business, but we get the real drama of business in America. The story will be interesting reading, and no one will pass it by because it is dry as dust. Ours is a big field, big men, and big, bold ventures. The climate or the soil produces all kinds of daring and shrewdness. We have both the mushroom dealer, and the man of enormous wealth; men making splendid fortunes, and men continually failing and begin

ning anew. What a place these classes have in our history! Put aside one steady-going man out of a hundred, and you will find the ninety-and-nine are quite worthy to be called gamblers. We all play at the game of chance. The Puritans played it,-selling one newly settled farm, and striking out into a newer country to better themselves. The Californian miner played it,prospecting in wild solitudes for the sake of hope. The store-keeper plays it when he starts his business on credit. The physician and lawyer play it as they choose debt and trusting to the "pay-as-you-go" modus. We all play it. If the game succeeds, and in some measure or other it generally does succeed, the player is not selfish. Your American man of business is not a selfish man. Quickly his money changes hands; he makes the trade of his fellows brisk by his mites or his millions; he backs all of his acquaintances with ready dollars. But he is provident. While he makes free with his capital, he has a good life, and a "pile" of some size or other laid by for keeping. This idea was got from the old-time New-York burgher, whose rule of "putting by a dollar for every dollar spent" is amended a good deal by present usage. The inheritance of fun in business, of making business a pleasure, came from the old-time Boston tradesman. Even as Caleb Grosvenor of Milk Street found trade "more amusing than a game of quoits," so our modern business-man enjoys his trade to such an extent, that, even though he is unfortunate, he prides himself on the pleasure it afforded him, and commences again with the idea of having a new game of amusement. Then comes the satisfaction of the reflection, that, whatever one's change of fortune may

be, the country has such magnificent resources that the phoenix of prosperity will rise even from the ashes of panics.

Trade in Colonial times was sensational. There was first of all the fur trade, and nothing more thrilling than the adventures of the trappers of the last century has ever been written. Though powder and fire-water bought the furs of the white or Indian trapper, there was fine business in collecting the furs, and there was excitement as well. Perhaps an itinerant fur-buyer paid occasionally for an otter skin with his scalp; yet the game was fascinating, and the chances of death had few terrors. There were also privations, long journeys, and the battle with the extremes of cold; but then at last came the journey's end, and money payment. There was rivalry of merchants, too, in the wilds, the American Fur Company and the Hudson Bay Company, each bidding rum prices for furs. There were savage fights in this rivalry, and the staining of many a fur robe with crimson. There was cheating too, — the cheating of Indians by the agents, who had passed out the whiskey until the red men did not know what they were doing. There were losses too,— moths, and robbery, and the burden of the power of storm.

In other branches of industry the like prevailed, until we who have come after have pride in saying that our history has been that of a trading people. Every colonist, and every colonist's son, had a mercantile aptitude. From the first, there were grand openings in agriculture and commerce; and with fertile soil and magnificent harbors, the promise first made has never been broken. New blood provoked feverish action. As the country grew, its people worked with the force of a high-pressure engine,

until business had been taken from the quiet, plodding labor to the grasp of restless enterprise. Now it has so happened that we have no time for aught but business; no time to take a good meal, no time to sleep, no time for the pleasures of the world. Realizing the scope that is offered to financial ambition, we have only to live for the sake of business. Every man is alike. There are no lazy ones in America. Rich and poor, saint and sinner, legitimate effort and illegal effort,—all have one

aim, and that is to be busy. Perhaps we do not so much want money; but money is the wages of the busy ones, and the impetus that makes room for another impetus is the prize of our high calling. Our grandchildren will write and read an interesting history; and it is quite to be feared, that, when they are asked what they will do with the past, they will say, "Like the past is the present. We are not through with it yet. The hopes and desires of business are perennial."