—‘.f‘v
f
I
a
OF NEW YORK.
- ".f, «
sicHARn A. MoG‘U‘RDY, President.
Stateneiitfor thelear Ending Dec. 31,’97.
According to the Standard of the Insurance Department of the State of New York.
INGDMEo
Received for Premiums . . .' .
From all other Sources . . . . .
DISBUESEMENTSC
To Policy=holders for Claims by Death . .
To Policy=holders for Endowments, Dividends, etc. -
For all other Accounts . .
ASSETS.
United States Bonds and other Securities .
First Lien Loans on Bond and Mortgage . .
Loans on Stocks and Bonds . . .
Real Estate . . . . .
Cash in Banks and Trust Companies ,
Accrued Interest, Net Deferred Premiums, etc. ..
Reserve for Policies and Other Liabilities .
Surplus ' . . . . .
Insurance and Annuities in Force . .
$42,693.20! 99
11,469,406 2.4
$54, 162,608 .23
$13,279,630 66
12,712,424 76
'10,132,005 57
$36,124,060 99
$132,017.34! 45
69,423,937 31
12,880,308 00
21,618,454 88.
11,705,195 82
6,141,200 20
$253,786,437 66
218,278,243 07
$35,508,194 59
$936,634,496 3‘3
lhave carefully examined the foregoing Statement and find the same to be correct;
liabilities calculated by the Insurance Department. CHARLES A. PRELLER, Auditor.
From the Surplus a dividend will be apportioned as usual
Report of the Examining Committee.
Office of the Mutual Life Insurance Company of New York.
To THE HONORABLE, THE BOARD OF TRUSTEES OF
THE MUTUAL LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY OF NEW YORK.
The undersigned, a Committee appointed by your honorable body, on the twenty-
second day of December. I897,to examine the Annual Statement of the Company and
to verify the same, resloectfully~———r
REPORT
That, pursuant to the power and authority thereby conferred, the Committee have, at various dates between the
date of
the said reference and the date of this Report, attended at the Office of the Company, and have been waited on
by the Treasurer, the Comptroller,the Auditor, and the Cashier, together with the respective assistants of such officers“
and
have carefully gone over all the items contained in the said Statement, and have found the same to be corrc ct. They
have examined and counted every certificate Of stock, bond and other obligation held by the Company, and compared
such quotation
property held by
pany’s holdings O '
have counted the cash on hand held by the Cashier.
the Company, and find the same to be as stated.
the prices at which the same are carried in said Statement with the market quotations, and find the same not exceeding
. s—in fact, in many cases below them. They have examined and counted the bonds and mortgages on real
They have also verified the valuation of the Com-
f real estate and have verified the deposits of money in the various banks and trust companies, and
And the Committee. certify that all the books, papers, documents, and evidence of title of every description neces-
sary in such examination have been freely submitted to the Committee by the said Officers and their assistants, and tlflt,
the same are accurate, in good order, and well kept.
And the Committee further certify that the investments of the Company are of a high order, and that the system
and meth .
All of which is respectfully submitted.
NEW YORK, January 21, 1898.
CHAS. R. HENDERSON
S. V. R. CRUGER
ods adopted by the Company in recording its transactions and caring for the assets are entitled to commendation
ELBRIDGE T. GERRY 5
J. HOBART HERRICK
A. N. WATERHOUSE
JAMES C. HOLDEN.
Board of Trustees-
HENRY H. ROGERS
JNo. W AUCHINCLOSS
THEODORE MOREORD
WILLIAM BABCOCK
STUYVESANT FISH
AUGUSTUS D. J UILLIARD
CHARLES E. MILLER
WALTER R. GILLETTE
H. WALTER WEBB
FREDERIC CROM‘WELL
J ULIEN T. DAVIES
A. N. WATERHOUSE
S. V. R. CRUGER
CHARLES R. HENDERSON
RUFUS W. PECKHAM
J. HOBART HERRIOR
WM. P. DIXON
ROBERT A. GRANNISS .
SAMUEL D. BABCOCK
RICHARD A. MCCUBDY
JAMES C. HOLDEN
HERMANN C. VON POST
WILLIAM J. SEWELL
OLIVER HARRIMAN' ' ,
ROBERT OLYPHAN'I'
GEORGE F. BAKER
DUDLEY OLCOTT
GEORGE G. HAVEN
ADRIAN ISELIN JR.
GEORGE S. BOWDOIN
WILLIAM C. WHITNEY
VVELIAH ‘ROCKEEELLEE
J Auss'N. JARVIE
CHAS-3D; DIOKEY JR
ELBRIDGET. GERRY
JAMES SPEYER3
ROBERT A. GRANISS, Vice-President.
WALTER R. GILLETTE, General Manager.
ISAAC ELLOYD, 2d Vine-President
WILLIAM J .‘EASTON, Secretary. ..
. , , . , ', FREDERIC CROMWELL, Treasurer.
JOHN A. FONDA, Assistant Treasurer.
WILLIAM P. SANDS, Cashier.
EMORY MCCLINTOCK, Actuary.
JOHN TATLOCK, JR , Assistant Actuary.
CHARLES A, PRELLER, Auditor. ,
C. CLIFFORD GRETSINGER, As-Jistant Auditor.
ED WARD LYMAN SHORT. General Solicitor.
. MEDICAL DIRECTORS:
ELIAS J. MARSH, M. D-
. G. S. WINSTON M. D. Consulting.
NICHCLS do CIEBESRT, General Agents.
DUER du—P. BRECK, Corresponding Secretary
ALBERT KLAMROTH, Assistant Secretary.
JAMES TIM PSON. 26. Assistant Treasurer.
EDWARD P. HOLDEN, Assistant Cashier.
WILLIAM W. RICHARDS, Comptroller.
HENRY S. BROWN, Assistant Comptroller
J OHN C. ELLIOT, Superintendent Of Domestic Agencies.
GRANVILLE III. WHITE, iii D.
A
A. E. (GAME, been! Agent.
-.‘A, .~ 1.
\
THEEVERiNGGAZETrE
THE Mtitnlirs [listener
THE RING AND GLQVE.
I felt like C-ortcz upon a memor-
able occasion when. the jeweler’s
glass door swung behind me, and
marching up to the counter, I asked
for a ring.
“A rug, sir?” said the attendant. a
Cockney .to his finger tips. “\Vhai
sort Of ring?”
“An engagement ring,” said I, valor-‘
ously.
-"What size. sir?” demanded
man, docketing me mentally.
“Five and a half,” I replied, think-
ing Of the glove. '.
“That’s rather an unusual size,” he
remarked, rubbing one eyebrow, “un-
less it’s a. bangle the lady wants.”
I’m not sure that she wants it at
all,” I murmured, producing the little
sandalwoodescented bit of silk; “but
that is the size, ,I think.”
“Oh—its the Size of the lady’s ’and,”
he Observed with mild ”coloration, un-
rolling it. “Well, sir, ladics' fingers
vary in girth, and it’s more usual to
fit them with a piece of cardboard:
but we’ll do our best.”-
‘TCOUId not the member be reconsti-
tuted?” I asked impressively.
That knocked the conceit out of
him; he stared at me helplessly.
“Fill it with powder or something,”
I explained. ’
It took him five minutes of self disci-
pline to grasp the startling novelty but
the
he did, and, under my direction, filled.
the third finger sheath with plate
powder, which I rammed home with
my pencil case. Then, producing a
miniture call-iper, he took measure-
ments, and began to search the scin-
tillating stock, displaying a reverent
familiarity most impressive to be-
hold. Cleopatra, how they dazzled!
Pearls, rubbi-e‘s', emerald , lamonds,
each challenging the admiration, but
checking the desire by the narrow
parchment slip attached setting forth
the price. Forty pounds, fifty pounds,
one-hundred pounds; it was a charm-
ed place, where money lost its every-
day significance, for what man of
spirit would be content to offer the
girl of his heart a thing costing a
miserable tenner when close beside it
twinkled a. rosy diamond worth
a wilderner'of monkeys?" I felt al-
most pauperlzed, resollectlng that I
had only séventy-flve pounds avail-
able from the Derby hundred.
“Now, sir, what do you think of
this?” asked the shcpman patroniz-
lngly, as he displayed an opal change-
ful as the shifting sunlight on a
misty sea. It’s exactly the lady’s
size. making allowances, of course,
she won’t want to wear it over ’er
glove.
“Are not Opals unlucky?" said I
endeavorlng to decipher the price.
“Oh, we don’t hold with such super-
stition,” replied the jeweller lofltily,
“but they do say one will keep you
from being poisoned.”
“Then I shall leave it for the next
rich widow,” I answered. “But what
is the cost Of this?”
I alluded to an emerald set amid
pearls, which I already saw glitteo
ing on the loveliest hand in the
world. He extracted it with a silent.
respect he borrowed from my eager~
ness, and made a measurement while
I watched him, my heart beating
madly. The size was exactly the
Size; he price—but this is a detail. I
decided upon it. Tia-‘— shopman thank-
ed me perfunctorily, and I leaned
against the counter, feeling like one
Who was receiving a great favor.
But when I fumbled in my pockets
for the notes and heard their crisp
crackle my confidence returned, and
then as I watched the splendid thing
flashing in its violet bed I believed I
must after all be a rich man, un-
known to myself, so great was the
SUggestion of unlimited wealth thus
conveyed.
“I should like a piece of glass on
the inside of the case lid,” I observed
carelessly. “Is it usual?"
"That’s looking-glass?” queried the
lapidary, glancing up from a surrepti-
tious examination of the notes."
I nodded. I knew i must be. getting
red.
“Well,” he remarked tolerantiy, “it’s
not exactly usual, but it’s a pretty
idea—’ightens the attraction Of the
gem, makes the lady see the present
from two points of view."
“Hardly an advantage sometimes,”
I observed; “but can you do it?”
“W'ell, yes. I should think," he re-
plied condescendiugly. ‘
“Then getit donu. and I shall stand
the racket!” I answered magnificent-
ly. -
He hurried away to effect the alter-
ation, his place being taken by a bald-
headed salesman wno wore spectacles,
and talkd to me over them sooth-
inzgly, as one would to a person of
weak intellect, while I formulated pi.-
ratical schemes, and asked him pue-
rile questions with a gravity equal-
ling his own.
When I left the shop I headed
straight for Bloomsbury Square, but
remembering that‘she might be just
then occupied with domestic duties.
decided to call later in the da.y.- Even
the ring in my pocket gave me no ad-
ditional courage, and presently I be-
gun to think it was. not royal enough.
Edging my way to Regent’s Park, I
hunted out a quiet spot and sat down
to examine it at leisure. It was glori-
ous still, but somehow not so glorious
as I could have wished, and the ever-
lasting flint would have worn well.be
month it. Somethingr more of the inte-
lcct than of sense, made me look up.
and I saw her.
The sensation of being shot through
the heart has not, I believe. received
adequate literary expression, those
who experienced it being preoccupied
at the exact moms-ct with other mat-
ters; but I think
menus. She stripped. and we gazed
at each other. She was in deep black,
but the pallor had gone from her oval,
i
i know what ll,
cheeks. She made me a‘hnlf—tentatlve
bow. I sprang to my feet.
“I’m so glad to see you.” I cried,
“because—I want to restore something
you forgot in the restaurant yestcr—v.
.7!
a few weeks ago.
' “How kind of you!” she said, com-
ing near. '
“Oh, not-at all,” I replied; “but I
hope you were not inconvenienced. I
should have sent it, but I——I didn’t.”
I put my hand in my breast pocket
hurriedly, and extracted my handker-
chief, which in turn brought to light
a. sheaf of letters and a ‘memoranda
I shook out at her feet. like a skillful
~ conjurer. Then I tried the other pock-
et, but vainly. “It’s a glove.” I said
weakly. gathering up my belongings,
“one of ycurs, don’t you know.”
“I recollect—I missed it,” she said
coldly.
“But the 0211) went so quickly,” I
pleaded; “Edi, do sit down until I find
itl”
She did so. I am in a gentle perspira-
tion.
“Hurrah, I have it!” I cried, and I
extracted the wisp of silk from my
watch pocket, w'icre I had thrust it
on leaving the shop.
“So kind of you,” she observed,
taking it. Then the powder ran out
over her dress.
“How stupid!” I gasped, complete-
ly demoralized now and taking the
glove I Shook it vigorously until I had
elected a miniature dust storm. She
sneezed. I devoutly wished that the
flying :machine was an accomplished
fact.
“It’s ruined,” I muttered woefully.
for it certainly represented a piebald
appearance. .
She smiled. I sat down, saying des-
perately: 6
“Would you allow me to keep it—-
the thing is Of no use now?”
"Why?” she answered quietly: but
the voice as low.
“To remind me of that happy day,"
I replied, shying.
“Indeed? I am glad you think of it
as a pleasant one,” she said gracious-
ly. “Mr. Tumbull was declaiming all
the way back in the cab. He seemed
prejudiced-against you.” '
“He may be described as a man who
means well," I observed severely.
“I hope he said something action-
able."
"0h, (hardly that!”
laughingly; “but he seems to have
changed his opinion lately. Your
name happened to come up in conver-
sation to-day, and he said”—
She parsed; a sudden flame leaped
into her cheeks. .
“What did he say?” I demanded,
trying to look away.
“He said you were an honorable
man,” she refilled... the point of her
she answered,
pnrasol tracing a lopsided isosceles
triangle in the dust, “but“—-—
“Ah there is much virtue in that
‘but,’ ” I observed bitterly.
“That you ought to settle down."
She continued, tossing her head and
rising.
“SO I shall.” I cried, “but it depends
upon my lady. I have her portrait
here in this case. She is the only girl
I shall ever care for in that way.” I
added. because even a. little qualifies.—
tion does no harm at even the most
exalted moments. “By the way. she
an acquaintance of yours. too." and
pressing the sprin . I handed the eas-
ket to her as the lid flew back. She
glanced at me curiously. very pale
now. I. weak about the knees. watch-
ed a child trundle a hodp past us.
She uttered a little cry that sank
into a sobbing laugh. Then she sat
down beside me and put one of the
hands I hope to hold when IX-nxtlihcclc-
ous me down the last dim turning of
Life’s road. into mine.
“I trust she will make you a good
wife,” she said gi'zivcl;i'. And—— W'ell
surely man born of woman can guess
the rest.
“‘hen Letlers Were Scarce.
To write a letter in the middle ages
was no joke—a task. which none out a
priest or a scribe by profession would
willingly encounter. ~
Letter-writing in early times was re-
sorted tO only on occasions of mo-
ment; even letters ofgfamiliarity fre-
quently took the form of legal instru-
ments. Till a. comparatively later
period, too, vellum was. the substance
upon which they were written, and
scribes were employed to indite them.
The earliest letter written in Eng-
land now remaining is proba'bly that
Of Wuldhan, Bishop of London, to
Beretuald, Archbishop of Canterbury,
preserved in the Cottonian Manu-~
scripts, desiring his advice as to the
mode of proceeding at a council, sum-
moned at a place called Breyuntford
('Brentford), for settling certain dif-
ferences which had- arlsen between the
king and the said council. Beretuald
was Archbishop of Canterbury from
A. D. 692 to A. I). 731.
The letter is greatly injured, and al-
together too difficult to be perfectly
made out; a solitary record of early .
epistolary intercourse in the Saxon
times. No other letter is known of
previous to the Norman Conquest.
After the Conquest, letters became
more numerous, but ,._ all either in
French, the tongue of this Norman mas-
ters, or in Latin, the then universal
language of educated men throughout
Europe.
Nearly all of those in the collection
in these languages are- by priests. The
constant turmoil and insecurity in
‘ which the laity then lived, made it im-
possible for them to cultivate writing;
but the want of a cheap and good ma-
terial to write on was to the full, as
great a. drawback.
Our earliest use of paper In epistol—
ary correspondence cannot be carried
farther back than the reign of Edward
1., during whose reign, or in the lat.
ter part. of his father’s time, it seems
to have been brought from the east by
way of Italy. ‘
think now that
HE DID NOT COME BACK. .
But in the Morning A lithe Trenches Wen
Dug.
When the American line had fought
its way to the top of the hills at 1&1
I’aso and San Juan and Culley, Gen-
eral Wheeler issued an order that
every command should dig trenches in
preparation for the conflict that he
.knew would break out again in the
morning. But the soldiers had thrown
away most. of their trenching tools
during the fierce rifle charges, and as
darkness fell upon the scene of battle
they threw themselves upon the
ground and went to sleep from sheer
exhaustion. Adjutant Hood, of the
Rough Riders, noting this condition of
affairs, rode over to General Wheeler’s
tent and informed the good old veter-
an that the men were played out.
Wheeler at the time was lying upon
his cot more dead than alive, but there
was a smile upon his lips and his
never-failing good humor twinkling in
his eyes, when Adjutant Hood said:
“General. I’m afraid our men can’t
dig the trenches.” .
“\Vhat men?” asked the general.
“The cavalry division,” said the ad-
jutant.
General Wheeler sat up in bed and
began pulling on his boots.
“Send me the man,” he directed.
“What man?” asked the adjutant.
“The man who can’t dig trenches.”
“But it is not one man; it is many
men. They are just played out.”
“But you can surely find one man
who says he can’t dig the trench. I
only want one. Go, get him and bring
him to me.”
“But there are—”
“I don’t care how many there are.
GO get me one.”
. The adjutant had never faced such
a man as Wheeler before and he did
not know just what, to make of the
conversation. The little old general
was as smooth and suave and courte-
ous as could be, and Hood had noth-
ing to do but to ride back to the line.
In some way he managed to round up
a colored trooper belonging to the 9th
Cavalry, and brought him back to the
division headquarters. He stood look-
ing sheepish-ly at the ground when
Wheeler addressed him.
“Are you the man who says he can’t
dig these trenches?” asked the gener-
al.
The negro’s feet shuffled uneasily on
the ground. “I’se one of ’em, boss.
but there’s a——” -
The general stoppd him and walked
out of his tent.
“You can go to sleep now, my man,
and I’ll go up and dig your trench for
you. When the sun comes up to-mor-
row morning the Spaniards are going
to Open on us, and every man who
isn‘t protected is not only in danger of
being killed. but will be unable to help
maintain our own position. The
trenches have to be dug, and if you
are unable to dig yours I’ll just go
out and dig it for you. Where’s your
pick?"
With the most business-like air in
the world Wheeler slid into his coat
and turned toward the big cavalry-
man. The man’s eyes opened as he
saw the proceedings. and they began
to bulge when the general motioned
to him to lead the way to his camp.
For half a minute his voice stuck in
his throat, and then he Said:
“Boss, you ain’t fit to dig notrenches.
If they done got to be dug I’ll just
naturally do it myself. I’m dog tired,
but that ain’t work for you.”
' \Vheeler stopped and looked at the
man with a flicker Of amusement in
his eyes. :
“I know it isn’t work for me to do,"
he said, “but I am going to need sol—
diers in the morning, and I am going
to save your life if possible. DO yo‘ii
you can dig the
trench?”
The negro started up the hill with-
out a word. Then the general turned
to Adjutant Hood, with a voice as
pleasant as sunshine in May.
“He seems to have changed his
mind,” he said. “Ne w, you go and find
me another man who can’t dig trench-
es." ,
The adjutant bowed and rode 013’.
He never came back. In the morning
the trenches were dug—Atlanta Con-
stitution.
He Was Altogether Too Literal.
A San Francisco hostess, famous for
her tact and resourcefulness, tells a
good story on herself. It seems that
an oflicer in one of the Tennessee com-
panies, a very shy young man, brought
letters with him when his regiment
came to the coast, and presented him-
self one evening at thev(1et us say) Van
Ness avenue residence. As he was the
son of a well—known public man and
a member of an Old family. his hostess
exerted herself to entertain him. “We
should be glad to have the pleasure of
your company Friday at dinner,” she
said. as he was leaving; “the Hawai-
ian Commissioners are to be with us.”
Friday came, and the Commission.
Shortly before the hour for dinner the
butler excitedly ‘entered the room.
“They’s a regiment of soldiers, mum,
outside.” “No doubt in honor of the
Commissioners; I will tell them.” Just
then the lieutenant was announced.
“When you are ready,” he said, "I
will have the men march to their
places in formation.” “Why,” smd
the hostess, “what men?” “It’s my
company,” was the reply, “all but ten,
and they’re sorry, but they couldn't
come.”-——San Francisco Argonaut.
“Pompey, how did yop like my
sermon?” asked a vain and rather
' longdwinded preacher to a black man
who had sat under the gallery.
Pompey was still aching with the
fatigue of listening -to the forty-min-
ute discourse. ‘
“Well, boss,” he replied, “I t’ink yo'
went by a lot 0’ mighty good stoppln’
Norwalk Chronicler