Next to Astor, perhaps, in America, we are most familiar with the name of Commodore Vanderbilt, one of the self-made millionaires of the city of New York. He began life a penniless boy, and took to the water early. His first adventure was rowing a boat from Staten Island to the city. He took command of a North River steamboat when quite young, and was distinguished at the start for his resolute, indomitable, and daring will. He began his moneyed success by chartering steamboats, and running opposition to all the old lines up the North River, up the East River, up the Connecticut—everywhere. Making a little money, he invested it in stocks which were available in cash, and always ready for a bargain. Honourable in trade, prompt, firm, and reliable, he was decided in his business, and could drive as hard a bargain as any man in the city. His custom was to conduct his business on cash principles, and never to allow a Saturday night to close without every man in his employ getting his money. If anybody was about to fail, wanted money, had a bargain to offer, he knew where to call. Nothing came amiss—a load of timber, coal, or cordage, a cargo of a ship, or a stock of goods in a factory, glass-ware, merchandise, or clothing—the commodore was sure to find a use for them. A writer, in 1868, thus describes him:—“From nine to eleven the commodore is in his up-town office; at one in his down-town office. Between these hours he visits the Harlem and Hudson River stations. He is now nearly eighty years of age. He it as erect as a warrior; he is tall, very slim, genteel in his make-up, with a fine presence, hair white as the driven snow, and comes up to one’s idea of a fine merchant of the olden time. He is one of the shrewdest merchants, prompt and decided. In one of the down-town mansions, where the aristocracy used to reside, he has his place of business. He drives down through Broadway in his buggy, drawn by his favourite horse, celebrated for his white feet, one of the fleetest in the city, and which no money can buy. His office consists of a single room, quite large, well-furnished, and adorned with pictures of favourite steamers and ferry-boats. The entrance to the office is through a narrow hall-way, which is made an outer room for his confidential clerk. He sees personally all who call, rising to greet the comer, and seldom sits till the business is discharged, and the visitor gone. But for this he would be overrun and bored to death. His long connection with steamboats and shipping brings to him men from all parts of the world who have patents, inventions, and improvements, and who wish his endorsement. II a man has anything to sell he settles the contract in a very few words. The visitor addresses the commodore, and says. ‘I have a stock of goods for sale; what will you give?’ A half-dozen sharp inquiries are made, and a price named. The seller demurs, announcing that such a price would ruin him. ‘I don’t want your goods.