ess, and to riches born,
Yet in earth's fairest flower he saw the thorn.
Beneath the finest linen sackcloth felt,
And bound his purple with an iron belt;
Lived Heaven's trustee, and lent, and gave away,
To God's own heirs who never could repay;
And died a rare example to the great,
Of lowly virtue in a high estate.'

But among all American capitalists the name of Astor looms up in
unapproachable solitude, and stands as it has stood for nearly forty
years.

We may get the better idea of the Astor estate by a comparative view.
Thus, a man worth one hundred thousand dollars is a rich man; a man
worth five hundred thousand dollars is a very rich man; a millionaire is
still more the ideal of wealth. Mr. Astor, then, is, if rightly
estimated, equal to twenty-five millionaires, or two hundred and fifty
rich men of the class first mentioned. In the seven hundred thousand
inhabitants of New-York, there are not more than two hundred men worth
one hundred thousand dollars; not more than twenty-five of the second;
not more than ten of the last. Approaching the assessment-roll, we may
estimate the Astor estate at one thirtieth of the entire city. Thus he
stands one seven hundred thousandth in the proportion of population, and
one thirtieth in that of wealth; or in other words, he owns what would
be a fair proportion for twenty-five thousand of his fellow-citizens.
The commencement of this estate was, as is well known, by small
beginnings.

Among the emigrants who landed in New-York about the close of the French
Revolution, was a rude German, from Baden Baden, whose life in the New
World was commenced as a laborer. He afterward became a peddler of fancy
goods, and eventually a dealer in peltries. In 1791 there appeared at
Number 40 Little Dock street, the unpretending name of John Jacob Astor,
and here the foundation of his estate was laid. Astor soon took fair
rank among business men. He was prompt and snug in his dealing, honest
and straightforward, and beside this, carried great weight of character
in his countenance. No man could be much with him without being struck
with his depth of character, and the solidity of his views. At that time
the fur-trade was brisk along the Mohawk, and the peltries, after
passing through the hands of frontier dealers, generally found their way
into Astor's warehouse, in Liberty street. Here they were sorted with
great care by his own hands, and prepared for foreign markets. An
o