s from Lincoln, Grant,
"Tom" Reed, Mark Twain, and other real, big men, and it will come over
you like a flash that here, unmistakably, is the _sanctum sanctorum_ of
the mightiest business institution of modern times. If a single doubt
lingers, read what the men in the frames have said to Henry H. Rogers,
and you will have proof positive that these judges of human nature knew
this man, not only as the master of "Standard Oil," but also as a sturdy
and resolute friend whose jovial humanity they had recognized and
enjoyed.

Did my readers ever hear of the National Transit Company? Very few
have--yet the presidency of it is the modest title of Henry H. Rogers.
When the world is ladling out honors to the "Standard Oil" kings, and
spouting of their wondrous riches, how often is Henry H. Rogers
mentioned? Not often, for he is never where the public can get a glimpse
of him--he is too busy pulling the wires and playing the buttons in the
shadows just behind the throne. Had it not been that that divinity which
disposes of men's purposes compelled this man, as he neared the end of
his remarkable career, to come into the open on Amalgamated, he might
never have been known as the real master of "Standard Oil." But if he is
missing when the public is hurrahing, he is sufficiently in evidence
when clouds lower or when the danger-signal is run to the masthead at
26 Broadway. He who reads "Standard Oil" history will note that, from
its first deal until this day, whenever bricks, cabbages, or aged eggs
were being presented to "Standard Oil," always were Henry H. Rogers'
towering form and defiant eye to be seen in the foreground where the
missiles flew thickest.

During the past twenty years, whenever the great political parties have
lined-up for their regular once-in-four-years' tussle, there would be
found Henry H. Rogers, calm as a race-track gambler, "sizing-up" the
entries, their weights and handicaps. Every twist and turn in the
pedigrees and records of Republicans and Democrats are as familiar to
him as the "dope-sheets" are to the gambler, for is he not at the
receiving end of the greatest information bureau in the world?

A Standard Oil agent is in every hamlet in the country, and who better
than these trained and intelligent observers to interpret the varying
trends of feelings in their communities? Tabulated and analyzed, these
reports enable Rogers, the sagacious politician, to diagnose the drift
of the country far ahead