Perhaps, reader, you are one of the old gray men who “fought under Grant and are proud of it.” I do not criticize you, gray old man. I am offering you and younger men things to think about. A distinguished historian assures us that there were at one time during the War one hundred and fifty bankers in Congress. Inside and outside of Congress these, and other leading-citizen Mammonites, connived to bleed you and bleed the nation—utterly without shame. They alarmed President Lincoln repeatedly. They never let up in their swinish scramble for gold during the War. And after the War they continued their unholy manoeuvring—patriotically. For example, at one time following the War, after you soldiers had elected your General to the Presidency, these blushless blood-suckers sought to corner the gold market and thus scoop up a barrel of profits. To accomplish this it was necessary to have the President out of the way for a short time in order to render it impossible for him to rush to the rescue with the Federal Treasury. Read their plan to “turn the trick” in the words of a Wall Streeter himself, Mr. Henry Clews:[140] “He [Grant] was prevailed upon to go to a then obscure town in Pennsylvania, named Little Washington. The thing was so arranged that his feelings were worked upon to visit that place for the purpose of seeing an old friend who resided there. The town was cut off from telegraphic communication, and other means of access were not very convenient. There the President was ensconced, to remain for a week or so about the time the Cabal was fully prepared for action.” Mr. Henry Clews’ own case is so finely typical of the banker-buncombe-patriot that a few lines may profitably be given here to him to illustrate his class. This glittering patriot, Mr. Clews, was a young man when the Civil War broke out. His young heart—just as a banker’s heart should be, for business purposes—was warm with the holy fervor of a patriot. He loved the flag—tenderly, of course, just as a banker always loves an “attractive proposition.” The war was an opportunity—a splendid opportunity—to “_make money_” or to “_fight for the flag_.” After much patriotic (and no doubt prayerful) meditation he reached the conclusion (his first fear was confirmed) that if _he_ went to the war he might unkindly be crowding out some other young fellow who also wanted to “fight for the flag.” So, just as a banker patriot would naturally do, he modestly decided to stay at home and humbly take the opportunity to “make money.” He at once organized a bond-buying, gold-lust syndicate, and as its organizer he went to Washington to buy bonds—at a _discount_ (as he confesses), _tho’ believing there was to be only a mere flurry_ (as he confesses), and especially to examine _carefully_ (as he confesses) into the _precise degree_ of risk assumed in buying the Government’s bonds.