The pleasures of Jay Gould’s life were simple and few. With vast wealth at his command, he seldom sought recreation away from his immediate home. To a certain extent money-getting seemed to be a pleasure to him. In the many deals engineered by his master hand he felt the thrill of a nervy gambler who stakes his money on the turn of a card. It was not making money that worried him. It was keeping what he made and holding his own in the thousand and one schemes concocted to get the better of him. His life was a continual game of chance, and in this game for many years he found his chief enjoyment in existence. It is not recorded that in the earlier years of his career Mr. Gould ever sought any physical relaxation in the way of sport or pastime. His whole mind, heart and soul lay between Wall street and his uptown home. Finally, however, money-making became an old story. Time and again he had milked Wall street dry, and his fortune had rolled up into the tens of millions. Then, observing an occasional smile on the faces of other millionaires, and hearing the laughter of light hearts all about him, he began to wonder if there were not other pleasures in the world outside of cent per cent. and the dull, eternal rows of figures that stood for stocks and bonds. So one day he turned his back on the dingy office that represented his paradise and took a New York Central train for Irvington. Here he met Mr. Merritt, and was driven to the residence of the latter, a mile or so north of the old river town and close to the shore. Mr. Gould was very quiet and very reserved, but his keen eye took in all the possibilities of the place at a glance. When he returned to New York on the evening train he had closed a bargain with Mr. Merritt, by which the estate became his for a consideration of a quarter of a million of dollars. A small army of builders and decorators and glaziers was employed, and out of the general chaos of bush and bramble arose the minarets of a modern palace, with wide, well-ordered grounds and every comfort one could wish for. Mr. Gould seemed to take great pleasure in planning the arrangements for his future country residence. For awhile all but the general detail of his business was put in the background. Every few days he would journey up to Irvington to see how matters were progressing. It may be safely said that these were the first leisure days of Mr. Gould’s life. His eyes grew brighter, his step more buoyant, and he began to look upon these little excursions as a pleasant diversion. Sometimes he would take his younger children with him, and their unaffected happiness was another source of relaxation for the care-worn millionaire. Previous to this time money-making had been Mr. Gould’s exclusive thought. Thereafter it became to a certain degree intermittent.