“I don’t believe these heavy castings can be made to stand up and carry themselves, much less carry a train across the Ohio River.”

[Footnote 25:  Thomas L. Jewett, President of the Panhandle.]

The Judge, however, lived to believe differently.  The bridge remained until recently, though strengthened to carry heavier traffic.  We expected to make quite a sum by this first important undertaking, but owing to the inflation of the currency, which occurred before the work was finished, our margin of profit was almost swallowed up.  It is an evidence of the fairness of President Edgar Thomson, of the Pennsylvania, that, upon learning the facts of the case, he allowed an extra sum to secure us from loss.  The subsequent position of affairs, he said, was not contemplated by either party when the contract was made.  A great and a good man was Edgar Thomson, a close bargainer for the Pennsylvania Railroad, but ever mindful of the fact that the spirit of the law was above the letter.

In Linville, Piper, and Schiffler, we had the best talent of that day—­Linville an engineer, Piper a hustling, active mechanic, and Schiffler sure and steady.  Colonel Piper was an exceptional man.  I heard President Thomson of the Pennsylvania once say he would rather have him at a burnt bridge than all the engineering corps.  There was one subject upon which the Colonel displayed great weakness (fortunately for us) and that was the horse.  Whenever a business discussion became too warm, and the Colonel showed signs of temper, which was not seldom, it was a sure cure to introduce that subject.  Everything else would pass from his mind; he became absorbed in the fascinating topic of horseflesh.  If he had overworked himself, and we wished to get him to take a holiday, we sent him to Kentucky to look after a horse or two that one or the other of us was desirous of obtaining, and for the selection of which we would trust no one but himself.  But his craze for horses sometimes brought him into serious difficulties.  He made his appearance at the office one day with one half of his face as black as mud could make it, his clothes torn, and his hat missing, but still holding the whip in one hand.  He explained that he had attempted to drive a fast Kentucky colt; one of the reins had broken and he had lost his “steerage-way,” as he expressed it.

He was a grand fellow, “Pipe” as we called him, and when he took a fancy to a person, as he did to me, he was for and with him always.  In later days when I removed to New York he transferred his affections to my brother, whom he invariably called Thomas, instead of Tom.  High as I stood in his favor, my brother afterwards stood higher.  He fairly worshiped him, and anything that Tom said was law and gospel.  He was exceedingly jealous of our other establishments, in which he was not directly interested, such as our mills which supplied the Keystone Works with iron.  Many a dispute arose between the mill managers and the Colonel as to quality, price, and so forth.  On one occasion he came to my brother to complain that a bargain which he had made for the supply of iron for a year had not been copied correctly.  The prices were “net,” and nothing had been said about “net” when the bargain was made.  He wanted to know just what that word “net” meant.