And it went well with Henderson meantime.  Surely he was born under a lucky star—­if it is good-luck for a man to have absolute prosperity and the gratification of all his desires.  One reason why Hollowell sought his cooperation was a belief in this luck, and besides Henderson was, he knew, more presentable, and had social access in quarters where influence was desirable, although Hollowell 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 mistook his own prosperity for the general benefit, he only shared a wide public opinion which regards the accumulation of enormous fortunes in a few hands as an evidence of national wealth.