The new North-west. [volume] (Deer Lodge, Mont.) 1869-1897, 1877-01-26
THE DYING xrnAs.
A Sketch Of yanasrhilt's Sick assn, .
Days Before lis Death
Corr. Philadelphia Times.

/ Days Before lis DEATH
4 Corr. Philadelphia Times.
NEW York, December 30, 1876.
The last sickness of Commodore Van
derbilt has had kindly influence on hi
fame. He pays dearly for respite and ne
penthe in the prolonged pain be suffers
but the severity of mems Judgment relaxe,
nc tile sight Of an old fellow-mortal lyins
there, like Montezuma ON the burning
Goals, slowly torture for the secret of his
wealth. Wealth, however, has neither se
cret nor key. They who made it hardly
know how, they who teach how to make il
seldom get it; for wealth is not an affair Of
wisdom, butof patience and rain. Girard
braved Cape Horn with his cargoes locked
up in infidel ships, the Votaire, the Ros
seau the Montesqllieu, and the Helyetius,
but Providence never sank them; while the
pious Gilbert, who rejoiced that g we are
as near Heaven ON sea as on, land" went
| down in tho sight of the Kingdoms he dls.
| covered. Mr.. Astor died i'm his library, AS
itwere, in intellectual communion with the
dead. Mr.. Stewart died in like unexpected
ness, though he put physician next door
| and clasped their houses with alarm bells.
The grim monster stalked irt Just the same.
squirting over new picture. and the mer-
chant balanced his books forever. g
THE -coMMoDoRE's SLOW DYING.
But Vanderbilt is dying like the rusting
and rotting of one of his live oak ships
with outsidv engines. We observe the
whole process of slow decay; the warping
Of the long straight keel, the shrinking
breadth, the thinning timbers, and the
naked flagstaff with its brave colors flying
no more. We say to ourselves: "Did tnat
poor, Shiny hulk contain eighty-four years
Of spirit? Did he come like another Mi
nerva, full-born from the brain of Fulton
himself, and with his one experience COM
pass all the history of steam navigation
Did he, like the ancient mariner, pass the
night from sea to land and consolidate
his power there when his fleets were obso-
letep And is he now, without bellows or
fire, a mere locomotive hulk, delaying the
wrecking train a'' Such pitiless picture
makes men pitiful. ..
The Commodore lies in back room,
sometimes in a bed, sometimes in a sick
chair with large wheels, originally made
for the inmate to pull himself about. But
when, of afternoons, they change the old
mans bed and lift him into that chair he
lies out straight or hearing music, oeca-
sionally permitting a visitor to enter
WE'LL HAVE SOME MUSIC.
Meanwhile, the old man, like child, has
dropped off into doze, driving his dying
fancies, perhaps, along the territory where
the pale horse carries the grisly rider.
His visitors prepare to steal away, and he
awakens..
Don't goi Well have some music |
here Presentlya4# 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 instru-
ment. In low, melodious voices they gave
the air and words:
Come, thon fount Of every blessing.
AS the old man closed his eyes and lis
tened his face grew peaked, and his eyelids
dropped. The colors of clay settled upon |
his complexion. He looked dead.
The music stopped at the end of the
him and almost instantly he revived, as il |
the sympathetic cord had snapped between
sleep and music. They knew by q sound |
in his throat that he said "more.s
The pleasant voices pitched for the sick
room, the one the air and the other alto
and the harp took both into its fow-the |
words of the invitation:
ss Come, ye sinners! poor and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love and power.
t He is able; he is wiling;
He is able !; he is willing:
az Doubt no morel 45@
The.tune the mourners knelt to at old |
country churches in Jersey and Long |
Island, when Vanderbilt was a boy, lived |
ret, and will live and sing when steam
whistles are dumb and engines ring their
bells no more. The music Of dying human
nature longing for a port, an anchorage or
q station, came with the assurance of an
gels from good women's hearts. He grew
old and lean and pitiful again as the tender
tidings to the .spoor and needy" came to
his wasting vitality, and the dread weak
ness, which is the precursor Of death, how
cred like vampire over his short breath I
ings. Needy and poor indeed this giant
lay. Infinite now was the value of kind
promises and loving hearts, and, beyond
measure, and above all, the weakest wo-
mans testimony, floating on music, to the
existence and mercy Of q God. The
melody died away, and like an arising |
Lazarus he moved anew.
g Frankey, be said with submission,
g now we'n have Hold the Fort.''
They raised this familiar tune, which +
millions of Sunday school scholars are sing
ING, and he knew the words, which fitted |
his mariners mind-the signals flying be-
tween heaven and earth:
4ss =. Wave the answer back to Heaven:
BY Thy grace ne giH r
AS these popular tones filled the sick
the two visitors, their eyes filled
with tears, silently stole away. That af-
bsrnoon. driving like the wind from road
side tavern to tavern, they told the story Of /
the old Commodore sighing there between
Harlem Lane and Heaven, ready to take
The road for either. GATH.
Peter Tenkirs.
I1axas .lri.n ar,rliad for ad1nissinra 70 1