Some people who were not inclined to give Drew any credit for the finer and more generous and genial feelings of man’s nature, said that his motive for this endowment was merely popularity, and a morbid desire, like that of Vanderbilt, to perpetuate his name. Another motive, however, less ennobling to man’s nature, seemed to be the true one. He saw that the religious element in society was then influential, and that many religious people of his acquaintance were in good circumstances, and he sought to ingratiate himself with them in order to make use of them in his speculations. This appears clearly to have been at the bottom of his precious gift of a seminary to his native county. It was a curious illustration of retributive justice, if I am right about his motive, that he was obliged to default in the payment of that gift, with the exception of the interest. Daniel Drew, at one time, could command more ready cash at short notice than any man in Wall Street, or probably than any man in America. His wealth was estimated at thirteen million dollars. He made a very large part of this out of his speculations in Erie stock, of which corporation he was then managing director and treasurer. Being thus on the inside, he was enabled to leave everybody else on the outside in the ups and downs of the market, which he himself generally engineered. The Street was frequently amazed by fluctuations of 20 or 30 per cent. in Erie stock, sometimes in the course of a day or two, through the able manipulation of Mr. Drew. It was a sorry day for Drew when Jay Gould took his place in the control of Erie, and it was equally disastrous for the Erie property. From this period Gould began to grow rapidly to the full stature of speculative manhood, while Drew moved as quickly in a downward direction, until he found himself again at the lowest rung of the financial ladder. It was no wonder that he said of Gould, “his touch is death.” Drew’s losses followed one another in quick succession, until his thirteen millions had melted away like snow off a ditch, and eventually he died in debt and broken hearted. His last days stand out as a sad, but eloquent warning to the avaricious. And this reminds me of a festive event, the chief incidents of which, I think, are worthy of reproduction. I remember being at a dinner party ostensibly given to the old gentleman when in the very zenith of his financial fame and prosperity. It was a kind of mutual admiration society, Drew being the king-pin of the social coterie. On account of his thirteen millions he was the centre of cringing admiration, and was by a number of the assemblage almost deified. As is usual on such occasions, speechmaking was in order, the oratorical talent being called out by the toasts as they went the round of the board. When it came my turn to speak, I followed suit, to some extent, in picking up the thread of the general glorification extended to the honored guest, to whom I paid marked deference.