“Sailing day was at hand.  The ship was hauled into the stream.  The captain, as is the custom, handed in his account.  Astor, subjecting it to his usual close scrutiny, observed the novel item of five hundred dollars for the chronometer.  He objected, averring that it was understood between them that the captain was to pay for the instrument.  The worthy sailor recalled the conversation, and firmly held to his recollection of it.  Astor insisting on his own view of the matter, the captain was so profoundly disgusted that, important as the command of the ship was to him, he resigned his post.  Another captain was soon found, and the ship sailed for China.

“Another house, which was then engaged in the China trade, knowing the worth of this ‘king of captains,’ as Astor himself used to style him, bought him a ship and dispatched him to Canton two months after the departure of Astor’s vessel.  Our captain, put upon his mettle, employed all his skill to accelerate the speed of his ship, and had such success that he reached New York, with a full cargo of tea, just seven days after the arrival of Mr. Astor’s ship.  Astor, not expecting another ship for months, and therefore sure of monopolizing the market, had not yet broken bulk, nor even taken off the hatchways.  Our captain arrived on a Saturday.  Advertisements and handbills were immediately issued, and on the Wednesday morning following, as the custom then was, the auction sale of the tea began on the wharf—­two barrels of punch contributing to the eclat and hilarity of the occasion.  The cargo was sold to good advantage, and the market was glutted.  Astor lost in consequence the entire profits of the voyage, not less than the sum previously named.  Meeting the captain some time after in Broadway, he said: 

“‘I had better have paid for that chronometer of yours,’”

Yet he could do a kind act when he was in the humor.  When he was poor and struggling for fortune, he had a friend in the city named Pell, a coachmaker.  As he advanced in the world he lost sight of his friend.  One day a young man called on him to ask if he would sell one of his leases which he (the visitor) then held.  He replied promptly and decidedly that he would not sell.

“But what is your name?” he asked.

“It is Pell,” was the reply.

“Pell—­Pell—­” said the old man, hesitating a moment, “I knew a man by that name once; he was a dear friend of mine, but I have not seen him for years.”

“That man,” said the visitor, “was my father.”

“Indeed,” exclaimed the old man, warmly; “your father?  Why, he used to give me rides in his coaches.  How I should like to see him.”

Then pausing a moment, and smiling as he recalled the past to his mind, he said: 

“You shall have the lease, young man.  Go home, have the papers drawn, come here at eleven o’clock on Thursday, and I’ll sign them.  But don’t put in any consideration.”