erbilt was one of the stanchest
supporters of the Government. Early in the struggle he equipped his
splendid steamer, the "Vanderbilt," as a man-of-war, and offered her to
the Navy Department at a fair price. He found that, in order to sell the
vessel, he would have to pay a percentage of the price received for her
to certain parties who stood between the Government and the purchase,
and levied black mail upon every ship the Government bought. Indignant
and disgusted, he withdrew his ship, and declared she was not for sale.
Then, satisfying himself that she was in perfect condition, he presented
her to the Navy Department _as a free gift to the nation_.

Says a recent writer, whose fondness for courtly similes the reader must
pardon, for the sake of the information he imparts: "No man is felt in
Wall Street more than Commodore Vanderbilt, yet he is seldom seen there.
All of his business is done in his office in Fourth Street. Here his
brokers meet him, receive their orders, and give reports. Here the plans
are laid that shake the street, and Wall Street trembles at the foot of
an invisible autocrat. If the reader would care to visit the court of
that great railroad king, whose name has become the terror of Wall
Street, he may accompany us to a plain brick residence in Fourth Street,
near Broadway, and distant from Wall Street nearly two miles. No sign
indicates its imperial occupant, except that the upper story being
occupied as a millinery establishment bears a legend of that character.
However, as we enter the hall, we notice the word 'office,' and open the
door thus inscribed. Here we see a table, a few chairs, and a desk, at
which a solitary clerk of middle age is standing at work.

"The walls are bare, with the exception of a few pictures of those
steamships which originated the title of 'Commodore,' This is the
ante-chamber, and a pair of folding doors screen the king from vulgar
gaze. He is closeted with his marshals, and this privy council will last
an hour or so. One after the other they depart, and before three o'clock
the effect of this council will not only be felt in Wall Street, but
will be flashed over the Union. At length you are permitted to enter.
The folding door is opened, and you behold an office as plain in
appearance as the one just described. It contains a few arm-chairs and a
long business-table, thrown flush before you, on the opposite side of
which sits a large man, with his face fronting you.