ctions of the Cowperwoods were
considered vastly improved. Henry Cowperwood was planning to move with
his family rather far out on North Front Street, which commanded at that
time a beautiful view of the river and was witnessing the construction
of some charming dwellings. His four thousand dollars a year in these
pre-Civil-War times was considerable. He was making what he considered
judicious and conservative investments and because of his cautious,
conservative, clock-like conduct it was thought he might reasonably
expect some day to be vice-president and possibly president, of his
bank.

This offer of Uncle Seneca to get him in with Waterman & Company seemed
to Frank just the thing to start him off right. So he reported to
that organization at 74 South Second Street one day in June, and
was cordially received by Mr. Henry Waterman, Sr. There was, he soon
learned, a Henry Waterman, Jr., a young man of twenty-five, and a George
Waterman, a brother, aged fifty, who was the confidential inside man.
Henry Waterman, Sr., a man of fifty-five years of age, was the general
head of the organization, inside and out--traveling about the nearby
territory to see customers when that was necessary, coming into final
counsel in cases where his brother could not adjust matters, suggesting
and advising new ventures which his associates and hirelings carried
out. He was, to look at, a phlegmatic type of man--short, stout,
wrinkled about the eyes, rather protuberant as to stomach, red-necked,
red-faced, the least bit popeyed, but shrewd, kindly, good-natured, and
witty. He had, because of his naturally common-sense ideas and rather
pleasing disposition built up a sound and successful business here. He
was getting strong in years and would gladly have welcomed the hearty
cooperation of his son, if the latter had been entirely suited to the
business.

He was not, however. Not as democratic, as quick-witted, or as pleased
with the work in hand as was his father, the business actually offended
him. And if the trade had been left to his care, it would have rapidly
disappeared. His father foresaw this, was grieved, and was hoping
some young man would eventually appear who would be interested in the
business, handle it in the same spirit in which it had been handled, and
who would not crowd his son out.

Then came young Cowperwood, spoken of to him by Seneca Davis. He looked
him over critically. Yes, this boy might do, he thought. There was