“Of course, you believe that strict honesty is essential to success, Mr
Sage? I’ve heard many people say that honesty doesn’t pay, especially
in Wall street.”
“That is a foolish question,” said the financier. “It is absurd to
imagine that it pays to be dishonest, whatever your business or
profession. Do you suppose, if I had been dishonest in any dealings
when I started out, that I would be worth anything to-day?”
“What do you think of the chances for country boys in a great city like
New York to-day, Mr. Sage?”
“I think they are as great as ever. Employers are on the lookout for
bright young men, and I believe that they would prefer that they
come from the country, provided there is no danger of their becoming
dissipated. I think that is the only thing men have against country
fellows, and there are many things in their favor. I think an earnest,
ambitious, hard-working boy from the country has a splendid chance
of becoming somebody. There are much greater opportunities for him
to exercise his good qualities, and the reward of his enterprise is
much larger. The same energetic labor that would make a man worth
twenty-five thousand dollars in a small town would be very likely to
make him worth a hundred thousand or so in a great city, and all on
account of the wider field.”
“To what do you owe your wonderful vitality?” I asked. Mr. Sage smiled
before answering me.
“I never smoke, I never drink any liquors, I retire early, and get up
early, and take care of myself in every possible way,” he said. “Don’t
you think I ought to be healthy? I have always taken care of myself,
and I think I’ve proved that hard work is not bad for one’s health.
In fact, I think that work is the best thing I know of for improving
a man’s constitution, for it makes a good appetite, and encourages
digestion. It isn’t work that ruins so many men. It’s the wine they
drink, and the late hours they keep, and their general dissipation. I
expect to be at my desk for many years to come, and just because I’ve
taken good care of myself.”
X
Cut Out for a Banker, He Rose from Errand Boy to Secretary of the U. S.
Treasury.
“IN my own career, I have learned that varied experience in early youth
is often of great value in after life. My schooldays ended when I was
fourteen years old, and I began work as a mail agent on the Rome,
Watertown and Ogdensburg Railroad. I do not mean to say that, when I
stopped school, my education ceased, for it was after 1850 that my
character received its greatest development. I was but poorly satisfied
with my work as mail agent, although it taught me much that I didn’t
know before, and I kept my eyes open for something better. In a short
time, the death of the president of the United States resulted in the
loss of my first position. The village postmaster was removed from
office, and, of course, my dismissal followed. This was discouraging,
but I re-entered the village academy to pursue, for a time, my studies.
There was in our town a small bank, and this institution had always
possessed a fascination for my youthful mind. I used to watch the
merchants going in with bags of gold and bundles of greenbacks,
and coming out again with only account books in their hands. I knew
that the bank had some connection with the government, and, being
greatly impressed with its dignified appearance and the actions of its
officers, I was seized with a desire to work within its walls. When I
applied for a position, I learned that there was no likelihood of a
vacancy occurring in the near future; so, when I was offered a place
in a local stationery shop at a salary of a hundred dollars a year,
I accepted with alacrity. The wages were small, indeed, but in this
shop I was privileged to become acquainted with general literature,
and spent many hours with the great authors. So the months with the
stationer were not without profit.
“After a time there was a rival bank established in the town, and I was
offered the position of ‘messenger and general assistant,’ at the same
old salary of a hundred dollars a year. I didn’t hesitate, but left
the store to enter the bank, and so began my career in the financial
world. My duties as ‘general assistant’ were many and varied. I was
janitor, first of all, and attended to the heating of the building. I
made many trips every day to the cellar for coal, and I used to think
the officials most extravagant when they insisted on a fire when the
days were comparatively warm. I was obliged to keep the front sidewalk
clear of dirt in the summer and of snow in the winter, and had to sweep
the floor of the banking room daily, and dust the desks and furniture
frequently.