Chapter VIII

The old merchants had a different way of doing business thirty years ago than now. They were more careful and more prudent. Perhaps it was owing to the fact, that the law abolishing inprisonment for debt had not then been passed; and a large shipping merchant, if he did not pay his debts promptly, could be locked up in the old jail. That building is now nearly forgotten. It stood at the east of the City Hall, on the very ground now occupied by the Hall of Records. It was a square brick building, and had on the top a cupola and a bell. I remember that old jail bell's tones as well as if it were swinging now. Up in the cupola the poor debtors used to sit for hours, and sun themselves. Some of the prisoners were allowed to go on what was called the "jail limits." I have read signs at particular points in the lower parts of the city with "jail limits " painted on the board, and nailed up in a conspicuous spots.

The system of credits places a prudent merchant, if his business is at all extended, at the mercy of other persons. To do business; he gives large credits of from six to eight months. If these time buyers are reckless, or if a panic comes along, and they go by the board, the large merchant is also shaken, and perhaps fails, or is forced to ask an extension from his creditors.

Among other merchants whose names arise in my memory this morning are two, who were very singular men. Their names were James A. Moore, and J. W. Hinton. They did business for many years at 95 Front street, under the firm of Hinton & Moore. Mr Hinton was a large, full-faced Englishman. He was a princely-hearted man in the days of his prosperity. His residence was in Dey street, at that time a street tiiat contained no stores. It was filled with dwelling houses.

Hinton & Moore failed. They had a meeting of creditors, and as it was quite evident that their business would be ruined by an assignment, one creditor proposed that Hinton & Moore should pay a certain amount on each dollar due. The sum so named was forty cents. All the creditors agreed, and in consideration of this forty cents, signed off, and gave the firm clear legally. I suppose Hinton & Moore owed $500,000: by paying forty cents on the dollar, they got clear of all their liabilities for $200,000. With some difficulty they raised and paid this compromise sum to their creditors, and then continued their business. They were entirely free of all indebtedness; their creditors had signed off, the debts were cancelled, and that was supposed to be the last of old matters. The creditors never expected to receive another dollar on the old accounts.

Not so however did the honest firm of Hinton & Moore regard their indebtedness. They were honorable men, and high-minded merchants. Eight years passed away from the day of their failure. Good fortune attended all their operations. They made money hand over fist.

To the surprise of many, the old creditors were called together at the counting-house of Hinton & Moore on a certain occasion. Presently, a clerk delivered to each a statement of accounts. One firm that had settled a debt due them by Hinton & Moore, eight years previously of $10,000 for $4,000—found a statement crediting them $6,000, with eight years compound interest, and a check for the amount. It was so in every instance.

The creditors remarked that it was very unexpected. Hinton & Moore replied to all after this fashion. "Gentlemen, we failed eight years ago. That was one of those commercial calamities to which all are liable. We exhibited to you a fair statement of our affairs—our debts and our assets. You advised us to settle at forty cents. We did so, and you all lost sixty cents on the dollar. You appeared satisfied, and considered the transaction at an end. Not so did we regard it. Legally we owed you nothing,—morally we owed you the balance of sixty cents on each dollar, and the forty cents was only an instalment on our debt. We have been prosperous in closing up our old affairs, and thanks to your liberality, we were fortunate in continuing our old business, and carrying it on without interruption. We are now happy to be able to pay you all we owe you."

It is needless to say that such an honorable course placed that firm high up in the list of honest merchants.

Alas! they failed again, and the aged and honest Hinton could not get credit for a hundred dollars. I believe he finally found a shelter as an inspector in the Custom House, and died very poor. It was his own fault. He need not have paid $300,000 with interest to creditors who had legally released him. But for this absurd folly he might have died rich. James A. Moore had a brother.

John A. Moore was one of the most extraordinary men of his age; he was red headed and freckled in the face; he was small in size; his disposition was entirely mercurial; he had a large store on the corner of Water street and Old Slip, where he sold iron of all descriptions, and sheathing copper. He did a large and very profitable business, but he was not content with that. Mr. John A. Moore believed in controling the market—"cornering" on sugar, copper and coffee. He was a great calculator; he would cypher out to his own satisfaction how a rise in coffee could be obtained.

Luckily, perhaps, for himself, he had not the cash or the credit to buy up all the coffee in first hands in New York. But this small fact never discouraged our bold operator, if he had no other needful. So Mr. Moore would go to a large commission house, and propose that they should buy for his account 100,000 bags of coffee—Rio, Java, St. Domingo, Cuba, La Guayra, Porto Rico, or Mocha. Moore was plausible; he would prove conclusively that coffee must go up—must take a rise. It could not go lower. The crops in the great producing countries of Brazil, Cuba, Java, would be short. "I am willing to give you a mortgage on my store and its contents, worth $100,000, to secure you from loss, if you will make the purchase and hold it for my account a few weeks. I will pay you a commission of five per cent, for purchasing and selling. The amount will be over a million, and you will be sure to make $50,000. Mr. Moore would carry his point, and the coffee would be purchased. Of course none but a house of undoubted credit and means could go into such an immense operation. Such a house existed in Broad street, and in 1832 the operation was consummated. In No. 26 Broad street an immense warehouse was loaded down with coffee. The store belonged to old Mr. Nathaniel Prime, of the firm of Prime, Ward & Co.

The garret was an old fashioned affair, that pointed almost up to the sky, and would contain more merchandize than all the rest of the lofts added together. Coffee-bags were piled almost to the scuttle. One morning Mr. Moore was up in this garret, examining the coffee. He pointed out to his companion, Mr. Rufus Prime, a box twenty feet long.

"What on earth, Prime, have you got in that funny looking box?"

"Two paintings," was the reply.

"Paintings?—what the devil are they doing here?"

"Well, Moore, I'll tell you the whole story. Two young men named Brette have brought out from London a lot of paintings by the Old Masters. We are bondsmen for the importation. The paintings are on exhibition at the Academy in Barclay street, all but these two. The exhibition is losing money," added Mr. Prime.

"Then why do you not exhibit these?"

"Oh, they are too immoral. It would not do."

"Do let me see them," said Moore.

"With great pleasure," replied Mr. Prime, and he called up the porter. "Take out those paintings, Henry, and spread them up over tlie coffee sacks."

It was done. That was the first time that the celebrated paintings of "Adam" and "Eve" were exposed to New York eyes.

"Exhibit them, Prime, by all means. They are scriptural pieces, and they will take," said Mr. Moore. His advice was followed. Adam and Eve were sent up to Barclay street, and the exhibition of them commenced. It was followed by a perfect furore. The money poured in by buckets' full. In a week, the brothers Brette were free from debt. In less than a month, they remitted £500 sterling to London. It was a hit. All New York was agog to see Adam and Eve. Inside of two years $200,000 was received from the exhibition. W. C. Preston of South Carolina, (recently deceased) offered $50,000 for them. It was declined.

To return to John A. Moore and his coffee speculation. The purchase was sixteen millions of pounds, or about $1,440,000. It was sold at an advance of over two cents a pound, and Moore cleared net about $280,000; and he lost that and half as much more, inside of a year, in another speculation, whether sugar, coffee or tea, I do not remember.

Still Moore had a most wonderful streak of luck just after that. Many of our citizens will remember the long lottery law suit between John A. Moore and his creditors.

Moore had a brother-in-law named George -----. He was in the lottery business in Greenwich street, No. —-. A great lottery was to be drawn in Virginia; the capital prize was $100,000, and the tickets were $20 each. George ----- was poor. He had no capital to enable him to speculate in tickets, and on the occasion of every drawing he hurried in his tickets (left over) so as to be in time. On the day of the great drawing he was too late. He found he had a full ticket, No. 9, 82, 63 in his drawer. He could not afford to lose $20; the drawing would be in next day, and he must get rid of that ticket—9, 32, 63, somehow or other. He went to everybody he knew who possessed capital, and a speculative disposition. All refused the venture.

There was one more hope for George. It was his sister, Mrs. John A. Moore. He went to her, and with tears in his eyes narrated his unfortunate position. "I can't afford to lose $20, and this week especially."

"Very well, George; here is $20 of my money; I will lose it. Don't say anything about my foolishness to Mr. Moore; now give me the ticket."

He did so, adding, "God bless you, my dearest sister, you have saved me from the greatest anxiety," and he left her home perfectly delighted. He never thought how hard a case it would he for his sister to get stuck.

The next day the drawing arrived.

George's eyes went no further than the three first drawn numbers. There they stood—63, 9, 32.

"By jingo!" he exclaimed, "my sister has come within an ace of drawing a prize, but her ticket was 9, 32, 63." Again he looked. Now he is as pale as a sheet, as he exclaimed, "She has drawn the capital prize of $100,000."

So it proved, but she was not allowed to draw it in peace, or the net amount (about $85,000). Moore's creditors were up in arms. They got out an injunction from the old Chancellor's Court, declaring that the prize really belonged to John A. Moore, and that the wife business was a dodge to cheat. At last it became clearly apparent to Chancellor McCoun that the wife had purchased the ticket with her own money, to oblige a favorite brother, and had concealed it from her husband, fearful of his disapprobation, until after the drawing, when she placed the lucky ticket in his hands to collect.

Poor George! Days, weeks, months and years have passed away, but not for an hour, night or day, has he been able to drown the "penny wise, and pound foolish" arrangement, when to save $20, he lost $100,000. He has tried to have dame Fortune come back again. He has wooed her mild and strong. Lotteries have lingered about George, and he has lingered on trying a solitary chance for more than a quarter of a century. The one miss has embittered his existence more than 100,000 other misses could possibly have done.