The house at No. 579 Fifth avenue, where Jay Gould died, had been his city home for several years. Before that he lived across the avenue, almost directly opposite his present house, which before Mr. Gould bought it was the home of George Opdyke, the banker, who enjoyed the distinction of being one of the few Republican mayors which New York has had. The house stands at the northeast corner of Fifth avenue and Forty-seventh street. It is a square, brownstone house, about double the width of the average house, with an extension in the rear. It is three stories in height, with a mansard roof, which gives another story. The main entrance is in the middle of the Fifth avenue front, under a portico into a deep vestibule with handsomely carved oaken doors and mosaic floor. The hall is fifty feet long. On the left of the hall is a small reception room with one window facing Fifth avenue. On the other side of the hall are the great drawing-rooms. The library and the dining-room are in the rear. Mr. Gould had a fine collection of standard books. The whole house was entirely redecorated only a short time ago, and is everywhere a model of comfort, elegance and good taste. It is filled with most exquisite tapestries and the finest paintings. Mr. Gould had specimens of the work of Diaz, Rousseau, Daubigny, Henner, Vibert, Rosa Bonheur, Voley, Jacquet, Schreyer, Bouguereau, Dupre and Meyer von Bremen. Attached to the house is a conservatory, which is kept constantly filled with the finest plants from the hot-houses in the country house at Irvington. Mr. Gould lived quietly in his handsome house, and few people other than intimate friends frequented it. He was devoted to his family and spent nearly all of his time not occupied with his financial operations with them. They in turn were devoted to him. Mrs. Gould for several years before her death had been in delicate health, could not attend church, and never took part in social pleasures. Her trouble was a nervous one, and she could not endure excitement. Thus the house was never given over to festivities to any extent. Sumptuous as it was, it did not compare in size or display with that of other men whose fortunes rivaled Mr. Gould’s, or, in fact, with the homes of many whose wealth was not a tenth of his. All looked at the place with interest, however, when it was pointed out as the retreat of the remarkable man whose public life was so dramatic, and whose home life was so quiet and so peaceful.