“You face the king.  He smiles in a pleasant and whole-souled manner, and in a moment puts you at ease.  No stiffness nor formality here.  His kingship is in himself, not in etiquette.  He is ready for a pleasantry, and will initiate one if it comes in the line of conversation.  You note those wonderful eyes, bright and piercing, and so large and rich that one is fascinated, and does not know how to stop gazing into them.  Such is the appearance of the railway king, and you take your leave, conscious that some men, as Shakespeare says, ‘are born great.’  Indeed, we know a man who would rather give five dollars to sit and look at Commodore Vanderbilt for an hour than to see any other sight in this city.  Next door to the office is a building of brown stone, with spacious doors and a roadway.  This is the Commodore’s stable, where are some of the finest horses in the country.

“Every afternoon he is wont to take an airing, and after tea a game of whist affords an evening amusement.  The Commodore is simple in his manners and habits.  He is a representative of a former age, when men lived less artificially than at the present time, and when there was more happiness and less show.  As for business, it is his nature.  He can not help being king.  He is but developing himself, and any other mode of life would be painful.  He has in the Central afforded a third wonder, the Harlem and the Hudson River being the first and second, and if he gets the Erie he will soon show the world another wonder.  On Sundays the Commodore attends Dr. Hutton’s church on Washington Square, and here his tall and dignified form may be seen, head and shoulders above the rest of the congregation.  He is a friend of the pastor, who takes a deep interest in his welfare, and we hope will meet him in a better world.  He stood by the Commodore’s side when his wife was laid in the tomb, and cheered him in that dark and trying hour.  Among his more recent works is the completing of a tomb in the old Moravian burial-ground in Staten Island.  The subterranean chamber is about thirty feet square, and is surmounted by a lofty shaft, and a statue of grief adds a peculiar finish to the spot.  The cemetery is on an eminence, from which one gets a fine view of the ocean, dotted with ships.”

Commodore Vanderbilt’s early passion for horses still survives, and his stable contains some of the finest in the world.  Nothing pleases him so well as to sit behind a fast team, with the reins in his hands, and fly along the road with almost the speed of the wind.

He is extremely generous to his friends, and gives liberally to charitable objects.  He never puts his name to a subscription paper, but his donations are none the less liberal for that.  His old acquaintances—­especially those of his boyhood—­find him a tender friend, and many of them owe to his bounty the comforts which surround their age.[A]

He is the father of thirteen children—­nine daughters and four sons—­nearly all of whom are still living.  A few years ago, at the celebration of his golden wedding, over one hundred and forty of his descendants and relatives assembled to congratulate him.  He lost a promising son during the war, and his wife died two years ago.  Not long since he married a second time.  He is still one of the handsomest and most imposing men in New York, and will doubtless live to see his children’s grandchildren.