Old Mr. Coster, a retired merchant of
great wealth, who lived next door to Mr. Astor's residence, was
extremely indisposed to remove, and held out long against every offer
of the millionaire. His house was worth thirty thousand dollars. Astor
offered him that sum; but the offer was very positively declined, and
the old gentleman declared it to be his intention to spend the
remainder of his days in the house. Mr. Astor offered forty thousand
without effect. At length the indomitable projector revealed his
purpose to his neighbor.
"Mr. Coster," said he, "I want to build a hotel. I have got all the
other lots; now name your own price."
To which Coster replied by confessing the real obstacle to the sale.
"The fact is," said he, "I can't sell unless Mrs. Coster consents. If
she is willing, I'll sell for sixty thousand, and you can call
to-morrow morning and ask her."
Mr. Astor presented himself at the time named.
"Well, Mr. Astor," said the lady in the tone of one who was conferring
a very great favor for nothing, "we are such old friends that I am
willing for your sake.
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