Rensselaer Union, Volume 6, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 June 1874 — A Miser Millionaire. [ARTICLE]

A Miser Millionaire.

Is a shabby wooden house, two stones in height, Blending on Eighth avenue, hftlf ft mile below Central Park, lives one of the millionaires of New York. He ia the owner of rows of brick tenements and of half a dozen brown-stone fronts, bat he prefers to be sheltered by the humblest of the roofs that are his. The house that he inhabits is dilapidated and bears not even the pretense of decayed gentility. Its sides, from which the paint has been worn by sun and storm, and its windows, patched with paper deftly pasted on the glass, show willful neglect on the part of the occupant. Young folks who ride past the house on their way to Central Park to dream of their future home pray that it may never be their lot to come to such a shelter. They may well say so, since the interior of the nouse is even less inviting than its outside. Ye* none of them wotud believe, except oh irrefutable testimony, that the spot tb :y despise is the home of one of the wealthy men of the great metropolis. Visitors never find admission to the house. A termagant woman drives beggars, spies and interviewers from the door. They can only get glimpses of a dirty, dark entry without a carpet and of a pair of stairs that seem to go up into a region of , udbroken cobwebs. Only those who come on business can get sight of the owner. Thus it happened that a few days sine* ,a Stenographer was sent to take the occupant’s testimony in a lawsuit. Jhe latter had become involved in ligation, and as lie was understood to be confined to his bed the mdn of hieroglypics was sent to wait upon him. Arrived at the right number the stenographer could not believe that he was ■right, and that the client lived in such a hole. But having knocked on the panel, a frowsy woman in a worn calico dress assured him that it was all right, and led the way ut> stain. The visitor followed with careful tread, and with an impression that he was wading through a shower of dirt. The door of the front room on the second floor admitted him to as strange a panorama as he had ever witnessed. Upon a cheap, stained bedstead lay a man of about sixty years. His hair and long beard were gray almost to whiteness, and his frame was stalwart. His was not a bad face, but rather patriarchal— set off like the Patriarch Casby’s by his abundant locks. The *fian was bed-ridden. All liis wealtli could not find for him the power to bid him arise and Walk. But as if this were not enough, it was evident that he denied himself everything except the mere ne- / cessities »f existence. The only pleasure left was to gloat over his possessions and remember that he was able to buy up hundreds of those who lived in apparent wealth and dressed luxuriously. This pleasure seems to outlast all others. The surroundings of the man were curious. The bed was covered with a cheap spread, and a fragmentary carpet strove to stretch itself over the floor. At the foot of the bed was a row of pigeon-holes and a board that closed up against them. Wien it was necessary to refer to any of the papers ip this receptacle the bed-ridden millionaire raised himself up to a sitting position by pulling on a rope fastened to the bedpost. Then he let down the board upon his knees and reached out for the paper*. When he needed to. make calculations be took a piece of chalk out of a pigeon-hole, scratched away upon the board, and rubbed the figures off when he had finished. Pencil and paper were luxuries altogether too expensive for ordinary use. Board and chalk were cheap. The room was a curiosity shop on an extensive scale. Two or three chairs, a table and a piece of white muslin nailed "to the nppeT half of the window's were its whole furniture. But it had a multitude oftiecorstions. Under the bed and in the corners were baskets of crockery, kitchen utensils, mantel ornaments, bundles of_ clothing and other matters that had evidently been taken in pledge from tenants who had no money to pay rent. On the table was a select assortment of clocks, stuffed birds, varnished fish, shells and knickknacks that no doubt had been highly prized by their owners. Everything evidently was fish that had come into this landlord’s net. The visitor took his seat and began to take the testimony. But it was a more difficult job than he had imagined. The old man protested against his taking down every word that he said. It was “robbery to charge fifty cents a page” for what he said. He'd tell him what to put down. The stenographer quietly remarked that he knew his business. “ Very well,” said the sharp millionaire, “I’ll talk to this woman, and then you ean’t write it." He was answered that the operation was quite ns easy in one case as in the other, nnd finally the work proceeded amid many expostulations and a great deal of protestation against the robbery. During the session a worikingman came in to consult the “boss.” Having received his directions, and being admonished not to waste his time, his employer remarked: “ Some day Wjien you have nothing else to do for half an hour—-mind, I say, when you have nothing else to do —I want you to go to that house of mine on Blank street. _ In the hack yard, under some bricks in tbe upper corner, dig down a foot and you will come to some lead pipe lhat’s buped there. Dig it up and sell! it and bring the money to me. I know what it’s Ayorth; it wi'li bring a dollar and a half. Hind, though, and do it w T hen you’ve nothing else to da ” The visitor qoishjpd, folded up his papers, and left anna a chorus of growls about “robbery.” The last view of the old man revealed him leaning over his board figuring away *)t his sums in chalk. Gray hairs have not taught him wisdom, and the millions he has amassed have only brought him a miner’s miseries.— New York Graphic. —