d he, the
new-comer, running a few small boats on short routes, labored under
serious disadvantages. Formidable attempts were made to run him off
the river; but, prompt to retaliate, he made vigorous inroads into the
enemy's domain, and kept up an opposition so keen as to compel a
compromise in every instance. There was a time, during his famous
contest with the Messrs. Stevens of Hoboken, when he had spent every
dollar he possessed, and when a few days more of opposition would have
compelled him to give up the strife. Nothing saved him but the belief,
on the part of his antagonists, that Gibbons was backing him. It was
not the case; he had no backer. But this error, in the very nick of
time, induced his opponents to treat for a compromise, and he was
saved.

Gradually he made his way to the control of the steamboat interest. He
has owned, in whole or in part, a hundred steam vessels. His various
opposition lines have permanently reduced fares one half.
Superintending himself the construction of every boat, having a
perfect practical knowledge of the business in its every detail,
selecting his captains well and paying them justly, he has never lost
a vessel by fire, explosion, or wreck. He possesses, in a remarkable
degree, the talent of selecting the right man for a place, and of
inspiring him with zeal. Every man who serves him _knows_ that he will
be sustained against all intrigue and all opposition, and that he has
nothing to fear so long as he does his duty.

The later events in his career are, in some degree, known to the
public. Every one remembers his magnificent cruise in the North Star,
and how, on returning to our harbor, his first salute was to the
cottage of his venerable mother on the Staten Island shore. To her,
also, on landing, he first paid his respects.

Every one knows that he presented to the government the steamer that
bears his name, at a time when she was earning him two thousand
dollars a day. He has given to the war something more precious than a
ship: his youngest son, Captain Vanderbilt, the most athletic youth
that ever graduated at West Point, and one of the finest young men in
the country. His friends tell us that, on his twenty-second birthday
he lifted nine hundred and eight pounds. But his giant strength did
not save him. The fatigues and miasmas of the Corinth campaign planted
in his magnificent frame the seeds of death. He died a year ago, after
a long struggle with disease, to th