owell was discovering that with
most men delicacy in presenting anything that is for their interest is
thrown away. He found no difficulty in getting recruits for his little
dinners at Champolion's--dinners that were not always given in his name,
and where he appeared as a guest, though he footed the bills. Bungling
grossness has disappeared from all really able and large transactions,
and genius is mainly exercised in the supply of motives for a line
of conduct. The public good is one of the motives that looks best in
Washington.

Henderson and Hollowell got what they wanted in regard to the Southwest
consolidation, and got it in the most gentlemanly way. Nobody was
bought, no one was offered a bribe. There were, of course, fees paid
for opinions and for professional services, and some able men induced
to take a prospective interest in what was demonstrably for the public
good. But no vote was given for a consideration--at least this was the
report of an investigating committee later on. Nothing, of course, goes
through Congress of its own weight, except occasionally a resolution of
sympathy with the Coreans, and the calendar needs to be watched, and the
good offices of friends secured. Skillful wording of a clause, the right
moment, and opportune recognition do the business. The main thing is to
create a favorable atmosphere and avoid discussion. When the bill was
passed, Hollowell did give a dinner on his own invitation, a dinner that
was talked of for its refinement as well as its cost. The chief topic of
conversation was the development of the Southwest and the extension
of our trade relations with Mexico. The little scheme, hatched in
Henderson's New York office, in order to transfer certain already
created values to the pockets of himself and his friends, appeared to
have a national importance. When Henderson rose to propose the health
of Jerry Hollowell, neither he nor the man he eulogized as a creator of
industries whose republican patriotism was not bound by State lines
nor circumscribed by sections was without a sense of the humor of the
situation.

And yet in a certain way Mr. Hollowell was conscious that he merited
the eulogy. He had come to believe that the enterprises in which he
was engaged, that absolutely gave him, it was believed, an income of a
million a year, were for the public good. Such vast operations lent him
the importance of a public man. If he was a victim of the confusion of
mind which mi