William Douglas
William Douglas, only brother of Euphemia Douglas, wife of William
Sloane, was born in Dunfermline. He came to New York
early in life, but has not been identified with the business life of
the city earlier than 1833 when he was connected with the firm of
Thompson & Co. on Spruce Street. In 1836 Thomas McCrindell was a
member of this firm, his partners being Orrin Thompson and T.
Phelps. McCrindell dropped out that year and the firm continued. No
reference has been found that would show that Douglas was a member
of the firm, but our Dues Book of 1835 gives his address as Thompson
& Co. He probably therefore was a salesman with that house. The
tradition in the family is that he represented a Dunfermline linen
house. He it was who induced his brother-in-law William Sloane, the
founder of the great house of Sloane, to come to New York. In the
course of business Mr. Douglas took passage on the ill-fated packet
Pennsylvania which was wrecked in the Mersey, January 8, 1839, and
he was drowned. The following eulogy appeared in the Morning Courier
and Nczi.' York Enquirer of February 26, 1839 :
"We are
prompted by the sacred ties of friendship to pay a brief tribute to
the memory of one who was lost by the wreck of the packet ship
Pennsylvania; we allude to William Douglas, Esq., of this city. Mr.
Douglas was a native of Scotland; he came to this country early in
life, soon became a partner in one
of the first mercantile
houses in New York. Faultless as a companion — a friend, and a
husband — generous and manly in all his transactions with others, it
may with truth be said, he never made an enemy. Cut down in the
prime of existence, the news of his untimely death brought with it
no ordinary pangs to the bosoms of a large circle of friends ; and
in the heart of one, united to him by the nearest and dearest
connexion of life, the melancholy tidings opened a wound, which time
itself, with its soothing influence, can never entirely heal. He has
gone through death's sleep unto God- — the best of friends, and an
honest man."
"He has outsoar'd the shadow of our night;
Envy and calumy, and hate and pain ;
And that unrest which men
miscall delight,
Can touch him not and torture not again ;
From the contagion of the world's slow stain
He is secure, and
now can never mourn
A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in
vain;
Nor when the spirit's self has ceased to bum,
With
sparkless ashes load an unlamented um."
Any contributions will be
gratefully accepted
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