The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1877-01-11
from the phitadslphia Times.l
THE DYING MIDAS,
A SKETCH OF VANDERBILT'S SICIl-ROOM 4
FEW DAYS BEFORE Ills DEATH.


FEW DAYS BEFORE HIS DEATH.
NEW YORK, December 30.-The last sick
ness of Commodore Vanderbilt has had ;
kindly influence on his fame. He pays dear
ly for respite and nepenthe in the prolonged
pain he suffers, but the severity of mems
Judgment reaXes at tie sight of an old fel
iow-mortal lying there. like Montezuma OF
the burning GOALS, slowly tortured for the
neither secret nor key. They who made il
hardly know how; they who teach how t,
make it seldom get it; for wealth is not AT
affair of wisdom, but of patience and vim
Girard braved Cape Horn with his cargoes
locked up in infide ships-the Voltaire, the
Rousseau, the Montesquieu and the Helve-
tins-but Providence never sank them; while
the pious Gilbert, who rejoiced that ''we are
as near heaven on sea as on land,' went
down in the sight OF the kingdoms he dis
covered Mr.. Astor died in his library, as
it were, in intellectual communion with the
dead. Mr.. Stewart died in like unexpected
ness, though he put a physician next door
and clasped their houses with alarm bells
The grim monster stalked in just the same,
squirting over new picture, and the mer.
chant balanced his books forever.
THE Cos1AIoDoRE's SLOW DYING.
But Vanderbilt is dying like the rllstine
and rotting of one of his live-oak ships with
outside engines. We observe the whole pro-
cess of slow decay; the varying Of the long,
straight keel, the shrinking breadth, the
thinning timber, and the naked flagstaff
with its brave colors flying no more. We
shy to ourselves: Ibid that poor, slim hulk
contain eight y-four years Of spirit? Did he
come like another Minerva, full born from
the brain of Fulton himself, and with his one
experience compass all the history OF steam
navigation? Did he, like the ancient mari
Iler pass like the night from sea to land,
and consolidate his power there when his
fleets were Obs0lete9 And is he row, with
ont bellows or fire, mere locomotive hulk
delaying the wrecking train? Such pitt
less picture makes men pitiful.
The Commodore lies in back room, some
times in bed, sometimes in sick chair with
large wheels, originally made for the inmate
to pull himself about. But when. Of after
Moons, thev changed the old mans bed and
Lift him intothat chair, he lies out straight,
doing OR hearing music, occasionally per-
mittiig visitor to enter.
SOME VISITORS.
Some days gone by5 de docr-bell rang.
and Two gentlemen who drive fast teams on
the road sent up their names. In other DAYS
they let out their trotters on Harlem lane.
behind that old, bleact-whiskered man, who
took the middle of the road, and hardly see
ing what came Or went before him, rode
with blind confidence. leading his coterie.
Park police, bridge-tenders, grooms, and
carriers gave him the road, feeling that disn-
terested fellowship which physical reputa-
ton always makes among laborers.
Ia hot fcb no
better than ship. These two visitors were
shown up presently to the sick room. There,
just composed upon his rolling chair, with
other chairs placed side by side, at that spot
where his face was inclined, the Commodore
Icy long and thin and tucked up, his feet
pointing out together, his chin sharp, and
the light Of former years faint as rainy
dawn in the dim windows Of his eyes. The
visitors, broad-shouldered and robust, look
ed at him as the two musketeers might have
regarded the dying Athos, their conlrade.
They shook his hand in imitation, grasping
his upper arm. After short silence be said
in a low, hollow tone:
II am glad you called. wanted
to have you come up. | thought
you would like to see me again. =
For fear it may be for the last time.''
'sDon't say so, Commodore exclaimed
these two big men; 1--WE hope that isn't go
ing to be so.'
81 haven't given up hope yet,'' he said.
''But this long confinement is SO
wearing. 1t nas gone ON so many
weeks and months that [ have thought nv
last hour might be approaching
'Oh, no. Commodore; we all want to see
you up again"
He was silent few minutes, and said:
Il wanted to be out on the road 4
My preparations were made to give YOU
some driving that hasn't been seen in New
York. l have secured match for
my horse Small Hopes. The paiI
is in perfect training. 4 Nv son.
William, has been driving them himself out
through the park at my command, so that
could get lat any time and take the reins.
: s-ISmay be that you will zee me-
in the lane again; don't know.
They SMILED little from real feeling: fol
great as was the distance between them anl
Vanderbilt, how Unreasonable between him
and the next Supreme One. He was hold
ing to the shore with both hands, where
they stood, and the ocean of eternity was
the next thing beyond him.
"feli me-" he said, ''the news on the
road. Who's making the pace
Have they any new trotters out thereof
Thus brought to place where their
tongues could trot on solid ground. his
equine visitors threw the news Of the road
like clods from rapid hoofs, where presently
the coftin-boards would cover the ears that
listened.
Joe Harker's got a bright bay, with one
OIL foot white, that took the road a-Sunday."
And Sam Body drives pair of browns
from Kineday that busted Bill! Hoey's Ham
bletoniian. But one of 'em's gone lame, and
he's put in racker that spiles the gait.''
"Mose Clayborne's painted his Brewster
wagon-wheels bright-yellow.
Tom Despard sold his big roam mare to
flanagan, the brewer, and his coach dog
went over with the purchase and Tom
couldn't hire him to come back.''
They've put up eleven new stalls at
Florence's.
''And are startin' to build new driyin'
bridge over Harlem river at Madison ave-
Eue.'
''Pud Tomkins' geidin' wears leather on
his Enees.'' '
"The p'liceman, Commodore, asks every
day for your health, and takes it hard yol,
amt there like you was"
s'wE'LL HAVE SOME MUSIC"
Meantime the old man, like child, has
dropped off into doze. driving his dying
h.eiAS'Ss, PCiHnPHs tioHH JIG IcTIICOFy where
the pale horse carries the grisy rider. They
prepare to steal away, and he awakens.
s'Don't go! Wen have some
music here presently. Where's
Frank"
She was already present, and answered
with the piano-keys. Mrs. Vanderbilt is a
religious woman, who sings sweetly and
softly religious hymns, accompanied by her
mother, Mrs. Crawford, and the instrument,
In low, melodious voices they gave the air
and words:
Come, thou fount of every blessing"
AS the old man closed his eyes and listen
ed his face grew peaked and his eyeIids
dropped. The colors of clay settled upon
his complexion. He looked dead.
The music stopped at the end of the hymn,
and ALMOST instantly he revived, as it the
sympathetic cord had snapped between sleep
and nirsic. they knew by a sound in MS
throat that he said "More.''
The pleasant voices, pitched for the sick
room, sang, the one the air and the other
alto-and the harp took both into its flow
the words Vi the invitations:
= Come we sinners! poor and needy,
Weak and wounded sick and sore
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full OF pity, grace, and power.
j He is able; He is willing;