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It had all fallen about in a spirit of graceful courtesy. And three hearts bounded with a hidden delight when the happy incident occurred. When Randall Clayton returned from the Astor Place Bank he had discovered Mr. Adolph Lilienthal in a particularly cheerful frame of mind. The young cashier had hastened to his office and delivered over his bundle of exchange and checked-up bank-book.
Psmith and Billy, having left the Astor, started to walk down Broadway to Billy's lodgings in Fourteenth Street. The usual crowd was drifting slowly up and down in the glare of the white lights. They had reached Herald Square, when a voice behind them exclaimed, "Why, it's Mr. Windsor!" They wheeled round. A flashily dressed man was standing with outstetched hand.
Carthage was no longer quiet. It simmered to the boiling-over point. Once it had been Mrs. Budlong's pride to be the social leader of Carthage. She began to read New York society notes with expectancy, as one cons the Baedeker of a town one is approaching. She lay awake nights wondering what she should wear at Mrs. Stuyvesant Square's next party and at Mrs. Astor House's sociable.
He immediately released it in lots; and as the city fast grew, covering the whole stretch with population and buildings, the lease was a source of great revenue to him and to his heirs. As a Lutheran, Astor could not be a vestryman of Trinity Church.
Just before she sank, some of the refugees say, the ship broke in two abaft the engine room after the bulkhead explosions had occurred. To Colonel Astor's death Philip Mock bears this testimony. "Many men were hanging on to rafts in the sea. William T. Stead and Colonel Astor were among them. Their feet and hands froze and they had to let go. Both were drowned."
Astor already monopolized the fur trade of the Far West south of the Great Lakes. His present plan was to form a fur company and establish a series of trading posts along the Missouri River, reaching overland across the Rocky Mountains until they joined the posts on the Pacific. The place he selected for his Pacific depot was the mouth of the Columbia River.
All work and no play gathers no moss," remarked Mr. John Clemm. "You're a comical fellow, Mr. Clemm. I'd just love to go out to-night, as you suggest. And if you've got a gent acquaintance who is like you, I have the swellest little lady friend you ever seen. Her name is Clarice, and she is a manicure girl at the Astor. We might have a foursome, you know."
Gerrit Smith was many times a millionaire, one of the great land owners of the country, a former partner in business with John Jacob Astor, the elder, and at this time a philanthropist by profession. He had built a church at Peterboro, New York, and had preached a number of years.
Robert Bowne, the good old Quaker, insisted that Jacob should call him Robert; and from boarding the young man with a near-by war widow who took cheap boarders, Bowne took young Astor to his own house, and raised his pay from two dollars a week to six. Bowne had made an annual trip to Montreal for many years. Montreal was the metropolis for furs.
I left Green river, for ever, and came to where we now are; and, sir, I wish you a good night." Here, too, it was that he resided, when Mr. Astor attempted to carry out his magnificent design, of settling Astoria on the western coast of our continent, and belting the earth with his commerce.
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