he sudden death of the agent in charge of it. This
service was purely voluntary, and was one which required the greatest
skill, determination, and courage on the part of the captain, and Astor
acknowledged it, frequently saying: "If you had not done just as you
did, I should never have seen one dollar of my money; no, not one dollar
of it." This was the only acknowledgment he made, however. He was worth
ten millions of dollars, and the captain had only his pay--twelve
hundred dollars a year--and a family. At his father's death Mr. William
B. Astor sent a considerable sum to the old seaman in return for this
service.

"We have all heard much of the closeness, or rather the meanness, of
this remarkable man. Truth compels us to admit that he was not generous,
except to his own kindred. His liberality began and ended in his own
family. Very seldom during his lifetime did he willingly do a generous
act, outside of the little circle of his relations and descendants. To
get all he could, and to keep nearly all that he got--those were the
laws of his being.... He enjoyed keenly the consciousness, the feeling,
of being rich. The roll-book of his possessions was his Bible. He
scanned it fondly, and saw, with quiet but deep delight, the catalogue
of his property lengthening from month to month. The love of
accumulation grew with his years, until it ruled him like a tyrant. If
at fifty he possessed his millions, at sixty-five his millions possessed
him. Only to his own children and to their children was he liberal; and
his liberality to them was all arranged with a view to keeping his
estate in the family, and to cause it at every moment to tend toward a
final consolidation in one enormous mass."

This is the estimate of his character formed by Mr. James Parton. His
friend Dr. Coggswell presents him in quite a different light. He says:

"Mr. Astor lived to the good old age of four score and four years and
eight months. For some years previous to his death, which happened March
29, 1848, his manly form was bowed down by age, and his bodily strength
greatly enfeebled, but his mind retained much of its original Vigor and
brightness. Considering his extraordinary activity until a late period
of his life, he submitted to the helplessness of age with uncommon
resignation. When his impaired eye-sight no longer permitted him to
read, his principal relief from the wearisomeness of unoccupied time was
in the society of his friends and near