CHAPTER IX
BREVOORT STABLES
In the fall of 1866 my old Boston friend Charles Meriam sold out his business at that place, and, with the proceeds, some fifty-four hundred dollars, set out for the West to grow up with the country. On his way he stopped over a few days with me. I tried to discourage him, and, not being successful, finally said, in a joke:—
“Well, Charlie, when you go broke, come back to me, and I will start you in business again.”
Charlie set out for the West with visions of future wealth before him. One afternoon in the next August I returned to my apartments and found him there, waiting for me. I was delighted to see him, but could not help noticing that he did not present a very prosperous appearance. He had very little to say of his Western experience, but asked many questions about business prospects in New York City.
I soon saw that in following Horace Greeley’s advice he had met with the same fate that so often befell others who acted upon the suggestion that this worthy gentleman was always so free with.
After we had dined, and while we were alone together, Meriam pulled out a five-cent piece, saying:—
“That’s all that’s left of my fifty-four hundred dollars.”
He then went on and told me a hard luck story about buying a half-interest in a business and subsequently finding the stock mortgaged, so that his capital was swept away. In order to get back to New York he had had to pawn his trunk.
As I have before stated, Meriam was my friend; consequently it was up to me to help him to a new start. I know Russell Sage would not look at it in this way—but that’s wherein I differ from Uncle Russell. I told Meriam not to worry, that fortunately I was pretty well heeled, and that we would join forces in a livery business somewhere in the city, I to furnish the capital and he to run the concern. This verbal agreement continued between us for sixteen years without a single disagreement. It would doubtless have continued longer but that it was broken by Meriam’s death in 1884.