begin to wither at the heart. The care of a fortune is a
penalty. I advise the gentle reader to think twice before
accumulating ten millions.

John Jacob Astor was exceptional in his combined love of
money and love of books. History was at his tongue's end,
and geography was his plaything. Fitz-Greene Halleck was
his private secretary, hired on a basis of literary friendship.
Washington Irving was a close friend, too, and first crossed
the Atlantic on an Astor pass. He banked on Washington
Irving's genius, and loaned him money to come and go, and
buy a house. Irving was named in Astor's will as one of the
trustees of the Astor Library Fund, and repaid all favors by
writing ``Astoria.''

Astor died, aged eighty-six. It was a natural death, a thing
that very seldom occurs. The machinery all ran down at once.

Realizing his lack of book advantages, he left by his will
four hundred thousand dollars to found the Astor Library,
in order that others might profit where he had lacked.

He also left fifty thousand dollars to his native town of
Waldorf, a part of which money was used to found an Astor
Library there God is surely good, for if millionaires were
immortal, their money would cause them great misery and
the swollen fortunes would crowd mankind, not only 'gainst
the wall, but into the sea. Death is the deliverer, for Time
checks power and equalizes all things, and gives the new
generation a chance.