The breed of horses has been improved to an extent that leaves the famous Arabian steed of yore, that outstripped the flight of the ostrich, far in the distance. This development in speed has been brought to its highest pitch in Harry Bassett, and Wm. H. Vanderbilt’s fondly cherished Maud S., now the property of Mr. Robert Bonner. For this immense evolution in speed and staying powers the patrons of the turf are largely indebted to Jerome and Travers.
One of Travers’ best bon mots was inspired by the sight of the Siamese Twins. After carefully examining the mysterious ligature that had bound them together from birth, he looked up blankly at them and said, “B-b-br-brothers, I presume.”
Among Travers’ contemporaries, Mr. Charles L. Frost was very well known a few years ago. His specialty was purchasing the junior securities of foreclosed railroads which were supposed to be wiped out, so far as any visible element of value was concerned.
Then, at a time when it was quite inconvenient for the reorganized companies, he would pounce down upon them with some sort of vexatious litigation, and would often levy on the bank balances of these corporations as a part of his proceedings and peculiar methods of management. He was enabled to take such action as they were foreign corporations. In this way he made it exceedingly difficult for these corporations to defend the various suits in law engineered by him, and rendered their existence exceedingly uncomfortable by placing their money in a tight place and cutting off the interest.
These peculiar methods of financiering identified Mr. Frost in a measure with Wall Street men, as a character whom most of the bankers and brokers who had any dealings with him have had good reason to remember feelingly. Frost had bushy, white curly hair, a beardless, full face, and a very red nose, which could only be acquired at considerable expense or as the result of chronic dyspepsia. There is no evidence, however, that he was a victim of this natural malady, so his highly-colored proboscis must be accounted for in some other way.
Mr. Travers met this gentleman one morning by accident in a Fourth Avenue railroad car going down town. Although formerly acquainted, they had not met in years, and time, as indicated by his white locks, was beginning to tell upon Mr. Frost.
This attracted the attention of Mr. Travers, who cordially shook hands with the old gentleman, and after making a rapid survey of his person, said, “Wh-why, Mr. Frost, wh-wh-what beautiful white hair you have; what a su-su-superb blue n-n-necktie you wear; what a m-m-mag-magnificent red nose you have got. If I had s-s-seen you as I do now in w-w-war times, I should have taken you for a p-p-perfect p-p-patriot, red white and blue.”
The Death of Travers.
The foregoing reminiscences of Travers were written and stereotyped while the great wit and financier was still alive. I have, therefore, not deemed it necessary to recast the matter, but consider it sufficient to add a few of the salient points in Mr. Travers’ character and career, with more bons mots which the death of this popular man brought out. He died in Bermuda, March 19, 1887. He had gone there in the previous November, where he had a residence of his own, in the hope that the climate might restore him to health, but the malady, diabetes, had got too far ahead, and, in spite of the best medical skill, carried him over to the majority. His wit, like that of Tom Hood, did not forsake him even in his last hours.
While on his death-bed at Bermuda a friend called to see him, and said, “What a nice place Bermuda is for rest and change.” Travers replied: “Y-y-yes, th-the waiters g-g-get th-th-the ch-change and th-the h-h-hotel k-k-keepers th-the r-r-rest.”