“Mr. Coster,” said he, “I want to build a hotel.  I have got all the other lots; now name your own price.”

To which Coster replied by confessing the real obstacle to the sale.

“The fact is,” said he, “I can’t sell unless Mrs. Coster consents.  If she is willing, I’ll sell for sixty thousand, and you can call to-morrow morning and ask her.”

Mr. Astor presented himself at the time named.

“Well, Mr. Astor,” said the lady in the tone of one who was conferring a very great favor for nothing, “we are such old friends that I am willing for your sake.”

So the house was bought, and with the proceeds Mr. Coster built the spacious granite mansion a mile up Broadway, which is now known as Barnum’s Museum.  Mr. Astor used to relate this story with great glee.  He was particularly amused at the simplicity of the old lady in considering it a great favor to him to sell her house at twice its value.  It was at this time that he removed to a wide, two-story brick house opposite Niblo’s, the front door of which bore a large silver plate, exhibiting to awestruck passers-by the words:  “MR. ASTOR.”  Soon after the hotel was finished, he made a present of it to his eldest son, or, in legal language, he sold it to him for the sum of one dollar, “to him in hand paid.”

In the decline of his life, when his vast fortune was safe from the perils of business, he was still as sparing in his personal expenditures, as close in his bargains, as watchful over his accumulations as he had been when economy was essential to his solvency and progress.  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.  He was ever considerate for the comfort of his imbecile son.  One of his last enterprises was to build for him a commodious residence.

In 1832, one of his daughters having married a European nobleman, he allowed himself the pleasure of a visit to her.  He remained abroad till 1835, when he hurried home in consequence of the disturbance in financial affairs, caused by General Jackson’s war upon the Bank of the United States.  The captain of the ship in which he sailed from Havre to New York has related to us some curious incidents of the voyage.  Mr. Astor reached Havre when the ship, on the point of sailing, had every state-room engaged; but he was so anxious to get home, that the captain, who had commanded ships for him in former years, gave up to