d on the simple virtues, upon which there
is neither caveat nor copyright--the virtues possessed by James Oliver
in such a rare degree.

* * * * *

George H. Daniels, of the New York Central Railroad, and James Oliver
were close personal friends. Both were graduates of the University of
Hard Knocks; both loved their Alma Mater.

When Daniels printed that literary trifle, "A Message to Garcia," he
sent five thousand copies to Oliver, who gave one to every man in his
factory.

Daniels was one of the Illini, and had held the handles of an Oliver
Plow. He had seen the great business of the Olivers at South Bend
evolve. Oliver admired Daniels, as he did any man who could do big
things in a big way. Daniels had an exhibition of locomotives and
passenger-cars at the Chicago Exposition, and personally spent much time
there. Among the very interesting items in the New York Central's
exhibit was the locomotive that once ran from Albany to Schenectady,
when that streak of scrap-iron rust, sixteen miles long, constituted the
whole of the New York Central Railroad; and this locomotive, the "De
Witt Clinton," had been the entire motor equipment, save two good mules
used for switching purposes.

It was during the Exposition that Oliver incidentally told Daniels about
how he had been mistaken for the Reverend Robert Collyer.

"I can sympathize with you," said Daniels; "for the plague of my life is
a preacher who looks like me. Only last week I was stopped on the street
by a man who wanted me to go to his house and perform a
marriage-ceremony."

"And you punched his ticket?" asked Oliver.

"No, I accepted, and sent for the sky-pilot to do the job, and the happy
couple never knew of the break."

The man who so closely resembled Daniels was the Reverend Doctor Thomas
R. Slicer of Buffalo, an eminent clergyman now in New York City. Besides
other points of resemblance, the one thing that marked them as twins was
a beautiful red chin-whisker, about the color of an Irish setter. Once
Daniels challenged the reverend gentleman to toss up to see who should
sacrifice the lilacs. Doctor Slicer got tails, but lost his nerve before
he reached the barber's, and so still clings to his beauty-mark.

Doctor Slicer was once going through the Grand Central Station when he
was approached by a man who struck him for a pass to Niagara Falls.

"I regret," said the preacher, "that I can not issue you a pass to
Niaga