This self-sacrificing friendship and ardent devotion on the part of Mr. Ward was recognized by Mr. Keene in the most tangible manner. He made an investment for his protege, of $50,000 in solid securities, placing them in the hands of trustees, so that his ward received the income therefrom of three thousand dollars, as an annuity, for life. Mr. Keene bestowed numerous benefits on other newly made acquaintances, of which this is a fair sample. A Pacific coast biographer draws the following graphic sketch of Keene, some time after his departure from California, which is curious reading in the light of the events which I have related: “No series of sketches of men, prominently identified with the stock interests of the Pacific coast, would be complete without a pen portrait of James R. Keene, the free lance operator of the San Francisco stock market, who dared to beard the Bonanza Kings in their den, and came off victorious with many shekels of gold and silver. Mr. Keene is no longer with us. Some time since, after having realized largely on his stock ventures, he concluded to take a trip East, to be extended to Europe, unless on the Atlantic seashore he regained the health which too active exertions on the Pacific had impaired. And so he went with his family. Those who bade him God-speed expected to see him return within a few months, certainly within a year, with recovered health, new ambitions, new conquests to make. But he comes not. New York has presented more attractions than his old love, San Francisco. Railroad stocks, Jay Gould, Sam Ward, Rufus Hatch, Long Branch, Trenor W. Park, Newport, have been too many attractions for Jim Keene. He fell into the New York market as easily as any man generally falls among thieves—but he seems to have got the best of the thieves in every issue. When it was rumored that Keene contemplated making Wall Street his headquarters, his old San Francisco friends generally wrote out their calendars, and figured up when ‘Jim’ would be back, bursted out and out, looking for a job. A few who had abiding faith in Keene, who knew his pluck, who had gauged his capacities, who had measured his horse sense, consulted their calendars and said: ‘Jim is gone! He never will come back to couch his lance in such a narrow field as ours. New York is big, Wall Street is big—just about the size of institutions that Keene wants to tackle.’ The few were right. Keene hasn’t come back to look for a job. He has tried conclusions with the smartest of the Wall Street operators, and, novice that he was, came out triumphant. The California goose that was to be plucked wasn’t plucked. Even Jay Gould, with all his shrewdness, gave it up as a bad job; and Vanderbilt condescends to confer with Keene on momentous occasions.