"No," replied the agent.
"Well, but she must pay it," said the poor old man.
"Mr. Astor," rejoined the agent, "she can't pay it now; she has had misfortunes, and we must give her time."
"No, no," said Astor; "I tell you she can pay it and she will pay it. You don't go the right way to work with her."
The agent took leave, and mentioned the anxiety of the old gentleman with regard to this unpaid rent to his son, who counted out the requisite sum, and told the agent to give it to the old man, as if he had received it from the tenant.
"There," exclaimed Mr. Astor when he received the money. "I told you that she would pay it if you went the right way to work with her."8
THE DEATH OF JOHN JACOB ASTOR.
So, to the last breath, squeezing arrears out of tenants; his mind focused upon those sordid methods which had long since become a religion to him; contemplating the long list of his possessions with a radiant exaltation; so Astor passed away. He died on March 29, 1848, aged eighty-four years, four months; and almost as he died, the jubilant shouts of the enthusiastic workingmen's processions throughout the city resounded high and often. They were celebrating the French Revolution of 1848, intelligence of which had just arrived;—a Revolution brought about by the blood of the Parisian workingmen, only to be subsequently stifled by the stratagems of the bourgeoisie and turned into the corrupt despotism of Napoleon III.
The old trader left an estate valued at about $20,000,000. The bulk of this descended to William B. Astor. The extent of wealth disclosed by the