2
1 KING OF KINGS.
0 Death, Death. Death! Thou artthe Lord of all,
And at thy darkened shrine 'I bow mine head
In this thy temple where for th ' ire shed
Man‘s blood and tears: gods, king id temples
fa - ‘
Thy reign, O Lord, is immemorial:
Ever thou waxest strozmer and more dread,
More populous grows thy kingdom of the dead,
And joy and love and hope thou hast in thrall.
We follow vain desires and idle things,
We vex our souls with hollow hopes and fears,
'We dread the future and regret the past:
Thou comest, 0 almighty King of Kings,
And stillest all the tumult of the years,
And tak’st each babbler to thy breast at last.
—-Herbcrt E. Clarke.
HIS NEIGHBOR’S BEES.
It was a still, frosty evening in October,
with the moon just old enough to cast a ruddy
light on the leaf carpeted path, and the an-
,oient stone wall, all broidered over with
lichens and moss. The air was instinct with
sweet aromatic scents, and one red light
burned like a beacon star in the cottage win-
dow on the hill.
“Look!” said Fleda Fenwick. “Mamma has
lighted the lamp! It’s high time we were
home.”
“And you haven’t said yes!” mournfully
uttered Jack Trevelyn.
“And I don’t mean to say yes!”
Jack seated himself on the stone wall, just
where the bars had been taken down. He
was a handsome, sunburned fellow, with
sparkling, black eyes and a rich, dark com—
plexion, as if, in his far back ancestry, there
had been some olive browed Spaniard. Fleda
leaned against the bars, the moon turning her
fair hair to gold and lingering like blue sparks
inlthe deeps of her laughing eyes. If ever op-
posites existed in nature, they existed there,
and then.
“I’ve a great mind to go away to sea,” said
Jack, slowly and vengefully.
“Do," saucily retorted Fleda.
“And never come back again !”
“Oh, Jack!”
“The idea,” he cried, raising both hands as
if to invoke the fair moon herself by way of
audience “of a girl refusing to be married
simply because she hasn’t got some particular
sort of a wedding gown to stand up in.”
“If I can’t be married like other girls, I
won’t be married at all,” declared Fleda,
compressing her rosy lips.
“The idea of keeping a. man waiting for
that!” groaned Jack.
“It won’t be long,” coaxed Fleda.
“But, look here, Fleda, why can’t we go
quietly to church and be married, any day,
and get the gown after-wards?” pleaded Jack.
“But, Jack, it wouldn’t be the same thing
at all. A girl gets married but once in her
life, and she wants to look decent then.”
“My own darling, you would look an angel
in- anything!”
“Now, quit that, Jack!” laughed Fleda.
“It’s what my school children call ‘taify.’ ” ‘ l
!‘ “Ihate your school children," said Jack,
venomously. “I hate your school. I despise
the trustees, and I should like to see the
building burn down. Then you would have
to come to me.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” averred Fleda. “I should
take in millinery and dressmaking until I had
earned enough for the white silk dress. I
never would—Oh, Jack: W'ho’s that?”
“A tramp! I’ll soon settle him with my
blackthorn!” cried-Trevelyn, springing up.
“No, don’t,” whispered Fleda, shrinking
close to him; “it’s Mr. Mingden. He’s on his
own premises; these woods belong to him.
It’s we that are tresspassers. Wait! Stand
still until he has gone by. He’s very near
sighted and he will never see us!”
“And who,” breathed Jack, as a stout,
elderly person trotted slowly across the
patch of moonlight, and vanished behind
the stiff laurel hedge, “is Mr. Mingden?”
“Don’t you know? Our neighbor. The
new gentleman who has bought Smoke hall.”
“The old cove, who is always quarreling
with you?”
“Yes—the very man who hates bees so in-
tolerably, and wants mamma to take away
all those lovely hives, down by the south
fence. He says he can’t take his constitu-
tional in peace, because he’s always afraid of
being stung.”
“Why don’t be take it somewhere else,
then?”
“That’s the very question,” said Fleda.
“Mingden, eh? I believe he must be Harry
Mingden’s uncle—it‘s not such avery com-
mon nazne,” said Jack, refiectively. “And
Harry’s my college chum—and I’m going to
ask him to be my best man at the wedding.”
“0h, Jack! I hope he isn’t as disagreeable
as his uncle!” cried Elfleda.
“He’s a trump!”
“Besides, I don't believe his uncle will let
him come,” added the girl.
“Not let him come? Why shouldn’t be?”
“Because he hates us so.”
“On account of the bees?”
“Yes, on account of the bees.”
“It’s a regular Montague and Capulet busi-
ness, is it, eh?”
“Rather so, I’m afraid,” sighed Fleda.
“But, I say, Fleda.!” cried the young man,
“this complicates matters. I promised to
go and see Harry Mingden when I was down
here.”
“Go and see him, then; but don’t mention
the name of Fenwick for your life.”
“Indeed I shall. Isn’t it the name of all
others in which I take the most pride?”
“0h, Jack, you will only make more trou-
ble! It’ll be worse than the bees. Promise
me, Jack, or I’ll never, never speak to you
again.”
And Jack had to promise, after some un-
willing fashion.
Mrs. Fenwick, a. pretty, faded little widow,
was full charged with indignation when Fleda
returned from her stroll in the woods.
“Mamma, what is the matter?” said Fleda.
“One of the hives was t-tipped over to-
night,” sobbed Mrs. Fenwick; “and I’m sure
he did it.”
“It was the wind, mamma.”
“No wind ever did that, Fleda. But I set
it up again. I will nefir, never sacrifice my
apiary to his absurd prejudices.”
“Dear mamma, if you would only have
the hives moved to the other side of the gar-
den 1” pleaded Fleda, caressingly.
“And sacrifice a question of principle!
Never!” declared the widow. '
Mrs. Fenwick, ordinarily the most amiable
of women, was roused on this subject to an
obstinacy which could only be characterized
asvindictive. And Mr. Ezf-a Mingden was
ten times as bad as his neighbor.
“That woman is a dragoness, Hal,” he said
to his nephew. “She keeps those bees simply
to annoy me. I hate bees. Bees hate me.
Every time I walk there I get stung.” .
“But, uncle, you shouldn’t brandish your
one about so,” reasoned Harry. “It’s sure
to enrage ’em.” -
“I don’t brandish it on the woman’s side of
the, fence. If her abominable buzzing insects
lpersist in trespassing in my‘garden, am I not
Wd to protect myself?” sputtered Mr.
. gden. 5
“Can’t you walk somewhere else?”
“Can’t she put her beesgsomewhere else?”
“But, uncle, all this 'ieeihs'such a trivial
’1
r.
. ‘gTrivial, indeed! If you’d been stung on
opr. nose and your ear and your eyelids‘and
flax-where else, would you call it 51-1va
ilfever eat honey. and I’ve always considered
bees to be an absurdly overrated section of
entomology. What business have her bees to
be devouring all my flowers? How would she
like it herself?” . ‘ .
Harry Mingden smiled to see the degree of
fury to which the old gentleman was gradu-
ally working himself up. He was already in
Jack Trevelyn’s confidence, and thus, to a
certain extent, enjoyed the unusual opportu-
nity of seeing both sides of the question.
“Look here, sirl” said he; “did you ever
hear of the doctrine of similia similibus cu-
rantur?”
“Eh?” said Mr. Mingden.
“Why don’t you set up a colony of bee
hives yourself? If her bees rifle your flowers
let yours go foraging into her garden. Let
her see, as you suggest, how she would like it
herself. Put a row of hives as close to your
side of the fence as you can get it. If they
fight, let ’em fight. Bees are an uncommonly
warlike race, I’m told. If they agree, what’s
to prevent ’em bringing half the honey into
your hives?”
"By Jove!” said Mr. Mingden, starting to
his feet, “I never thought of that. I’ll do it!
I wonder where the deuce they sell bees!
There isn’t a moment to be lost.”
“I think I know of a place where I could
buy half a dozen hives,” said Harry.
I: :1: :1: =5 :1: :3
“The gentleman wants to buy some bees,”
said Fleda. “Dear mamma, do sell yours;
we can easily get all the honey we want”—
“But I’ve kept bees all my life,” said Mrs.
Fenwick, piteously.
“Yes, but they’re such a care, mamma,
now that you are no longer young, and you
are hardly able to look after them in swarm-
ing time, and”— (she dared not allude to the
b“-
q.
‘ trouble they were making in neighborly re-
lations, but glided swiftly on to the next
vantage point)——“it will be just exactly the
money I want to finish the sum for my wed-
ding dress.”
Mrs. Fen wick’s face softened; she kissed
Fleda’s carmine cheek, with a deep sigh.
“For your sake, then, darling,” said she.
“But I wouldn’t for the world have Mr.
Mingden think that I would concede a single
inch to”—
“I don’t know that it is any of Mr. Ming-
den’s business,” said Fleda, quietly. _
The next day Mr. Mingden trotted down
to look at his new possessions.
“Too bad that Harry had to go back to
town before he had a chance to see how the
bee hives looked in their place,” soliloquized
he. “A capital idea, that of his. ‘Similia
similibus curantur,’ ha, ha, ha! Well, I guess
it’ll be pretty much that! I wonder what
the old lady will say when she sees the oppo-
sition apiary! Won’t she be furious! Ha,
ha, ha!"
He adjusted his spectacles as he hastened
down towards the sunny south walk which
had heretofore been the battle ground. There
was the row of square, white hives on his
side of the fence—but lo! and behold! the
bench that had extended on the other side
was vacant and deserted!
“Why!” he exclaimed, coming to an abrupt
standstill. “1Vhat has she done with her
bees?”
“Sold ’em all to you, sir,” said Jacob, the
gardener. “And a fine lot they be! And not
an unreasonable price neither. Mr. Harry
looked arter that hisself.”
“I hope you’ll be very kind to them, sir !~”
uttered a soft, pleading little voice,’and Elfie-
(la Fenwick’s golden head appeared just above
the pickets of the fence. “And I never knew
until just now that it was you who bought
them.”
“Humph!” said Mr. Mingden.
“But, I hope, after this,” kindly added Fle-
da, “that we shall never have any more trou-
ble—as neighbors, I mean. It has made me
very unhappy, and”—
The blue eyes, the faltering voice, melted
the old gentleman at last.
“Then don’t let it make you unhappy any
longer, my dear,” said be, reaching over the
pickets to shake hands with the pretty special
pleader. “Hang the bees! After all, what
difference does it make which side of the
fence they’re on? So you’re the little school
teacher, are you? I’m blessed if I don’t wish
I was young enough to go to schooltoyou
myself!”
Fleda. ran back to the house in secret glee.
“I do believe,” she thought, “the Montague
and Capulet feud is healed at last! And I do
believe (knitting her blonde brows) that Jack
told young Mingden all about the bees and
that that is the solution of this mystery.”
But that evening there came a present of
white grapes from the Mingden greenhouses
to Mrs. Fenwick, with the old gentleman’s
card.
“He must have been very much pleased to
get the bees,” thought the old lady. “If I
had only known he liked bees, I should have
, thought very differently of him. All this
shows how slow we should be to believe serv-
ants’ gossip and neighborhood tattle! If I
had known he was the purchaser I should
have declined to negotiate; but perhaps every-
thing has happened for the best!”
Jack Trevelyn thought so when he stood up
in the village church a fortnight from that
time, beside a fair vision in glittering white
silk and a veil that was like crystallized frost
work.
that old Mr. Mingden was there to give the
bride away!
“I take all the credit to myself,” mischiev-
ously whispered Harry Mingden, the “best
man.” “But I’m afraid it is easier to set ma-
chinery in motion than to stop it afterwards!
And it’s just possible that I may have an
aunt-in~law yet.”
“Stranger things have happened,” said the
bridegroom. —Amy Randolph in New York
Ledger.
George .Eliot’s Wife.
The blunders that are made in regard to
literary people by those who should know
better are absurd enough, but those who
have had no opportunity to inform them—
selves in such matters can go even beyond
these mistakes in droll errors.
At an authors’ reading recently given in
Boston for the benefit of a working girls’
club there were present a number of work-
ing girls who have for the most part a small
chance to keep themselves informed of the
history or personality of authors.
Among the readers was Mrs. Maude HoWe
Eliot, daughter of Mrs. Julia Ward Howe,
and author of several novels. When the read-
ing of her selection came one girl was over-
heard to say to another:
“Ain’t she lovely? I’m awfully glad to see
her. I always did want to see George Eliot’s
wife.” ,
The confusion of ideas in the speaker’s mind
between the living authors of America and
the departed novelists-of England must have
been pretty complete.—Youth’s Companion.‘
Society Babies Among Indians.
Among Indian society there are grades as
in our own. There are classes and ranks, a
good society and a poor society in every In-
dian tribe. Among the higher clones of In.
dians there isthe greatest nicety in taking
care of their children. The visitor at an In-
dian reservation usually sees only the lower
classes. often those that would correspond
with beggars and paupers amongus. The
higher classes of Indians appreciate the advan-
tageso‘f our civilization and are sending their
children away from the reservations to be
slucated. Among Indians of that grade
thereismore or less of cleanliness and the
children are bathed everyday—Philadelphia
Ledger-
And the strangest part of all was‘
" SCIENCE IN‘ DENTISTRY 1'
PROGRESS OF THE PROFESSION
THROUGH INVENTIONS.
Improvements in Extracting, Filling and
Constructing Teeth—Women the Best Pa-
tients—Requirements of a Dentist—The
Rubber Dam.
Dentistry is an art that has knowu many
improvements since the days of Washington,
when the Father of his Country rejoiced in a
set of teeth made from walrus tasks.
The first substitutes for natural teeth were
teeth taken from the mouths of the dead and
restored to usefulness in the jaws of the liv-
ing. That dentists have always been inven-
tive has been proven by finding in the mouth
of a mummy taken from an Etruscan tomb a
piece of gold “bridgework” with one of
those “natural false” teeth inserted.
“It is of the greatest importance that a.
dentist should not be nervous or fretful,”
said a dentist. “If they are calm and strong
they impart these qualities to the patient.
Does the patient affect the dentist? Cer-
tainly.
“To be a successful dentist calls for a.
greater combination of ability than, per-
haps, any other profession. A dentist must
possess nerve and coolness that will not de-
sert him through hours of slow and tedious
operating, artistic ability to reproduce nat-
ure’s handiwork in the mouths of his pa-
tients, inventive genius if he would hold his
own in the march of improvement, and add-
ed to these, the patience of J 0b..
“There have been great changes in den-
tistry in the last twenty-five years. I think
I may say that the modes have been changed
two or three times. What do I consider the
prominent inventions? The using of cohe-
sive gold for filling, the Morrison engine used
for filling and polishing teeth, the electric
mouth mirror for examining dark cavities,
and the electric dental engine and the rubber
dam.”
Attached to the back of the dentist's chair
was a magnifying glass about five inches in
diameter, so arranged that it could be swung
into position and “focus” the patient’s month
while the dentist worked. “This is not only
useful as a magnifier,” said the doctor, “but
prevents the disagreeable interchange of
breath, which is, to say the least, undesira-
ble. Who stand painful operations the best?
Women, most decidedly. Why? Oh, I think
they have more pride than men and also
more patience.”
ANCIENT AND MODERN METHODS.
The greatest difference between ancient and
modern dentistry is the effort to preserve the
natural teeth. The misery people suffered
with bad teeth created the demand for den-
tists, who were hidden to unceremoniously
“yank” out the offending member. Today
that is not resorted to till everything else has
been tried.
“What is the most paying feature in den-
tistry? Artificial teeth. Many used? A Phila-
delphia firm manufactures 15,000,000 of arti—
ficial teeth per annum. Yes, Philadelphia is
where most of the false teeth come from.
Who are the hardest to suit with false teeth?
Well,” said the dentist, after glancing hur-
riedly into the outer room, “old—no—people
of uncertain age who think a set of false
teeth is going to make them look sWeet six-
teen again. Of course we can’t do that, and,”
said the knight of the forceps, running his
fingers through his hair in a distracted
fashion, “we have awful times with them.
Then the folks that are just going to get mar-
ried are mighty particular. Old gentlemen
who are about to enter that blessed state for,
may be the third time, want to look young,
and,” said the wicked dentist, “it’s no trouble
to persuade them that their new teeth give
them a perfectly boyish appearance. That’s
the vanity of them.”
One lady complained of her teeth being a
“tight fit” and brought them back to the
dentist. “You are right,” said be, examining
them critically, “they are a tight fit. I’ll just
put them on the stretcher for ten minutes
and you will have no further trouble,” and
she hadn’t. .
CARE OF THE TEETH.
Teeth generally begin to decay between the
ages of 12 and $30. “If people would only
bear in mind,” said the dentist, “that their
teeth should be kept more carefully than their
diamonds they would not be—and such cases
are more common than you suppose—so care-
less about the condition of their mouths. Oh,
no, not ignorant people. Many people scru-
pulously particular in other respects are care—
less in this.”
One is rather astonished to learn that for
every man that needs the services of a dentist
there are fully fifteen women.
For the information of the uninitiated, be it
known that the rubber dam is simply a piece
of thin rubber cloth, generally about five
inches square, through which the tooth is
forced, and a little fixture is placed around
the toothto hold the rubber in place. This
invention has done away with wadding nap-
kins into the mouth of a suffering community
while they had their teeth filled.
Though all the dentists agreed that a wo-
man stood a dental operation better than a
man, yet many were the reasons given in ex-
planation.
“It’s because men are selfish,” said one ob-
servant man of the profession. “Men think
much more about their personal comfort than
does a woman. They put up with annoyances
every hour in the day that would distract a
man. I have known cool headed business
men come in here and act like pampered chil-
dren. ‘The idea of having to have a fellow’s
mouth jammed up in that fashion! Perfectly
brutal!’ ” ‘
RECIPBOCITY 0F FEELING.
A number also had noticed the reciprocity
of feeling—if one may so term it—between
dentist and patient.
“I used to think it was fancy,” said a. gen-
tleman who had the experience of a quarter
of a century in dental work. “I noticed that
certain people affected me strangely. I would
be completely tired out after an hour’s work
at their teeth. They were not the most
troublesome people either. One lady I have
in mind particularly, whom I dreaded to see
come in the oflice. There'are people whose very
presence seems to ct er: a new lease on life,
while the society of others, again, has a power
the very reverse. Explain it? Nobody can. ”
“No, I do not think it explainabie,” said
another. “There was a young man whom
teeth required a. good deal of attention, and
I used to be tired out when I got through
with him. I was not in very robust health
at the time and I explained it to myself in
that way. I did not see anything of him for
years, when one day he walked into the office
and wanted some work done. I was in
splendid health, and smiled at the recollec-
tion of what I now designated a. foolish
fancy. Very well. After two hours’ work
at that fellow’s mouth I sat down limp as a
rag. No, sir, I haven’t tried to explain it
since, neither shall I attempt to explain the
'strange coincidence of my always having an-
other engagement when,that particular gen-
tleman. requires my services.”——Detroit Free
Press. - ‘
A Good Reason.
{4 She-What makes you have such a poor
opinion of the medical fraternity?
He—I’m a doctor myself.—Epoch.
IN A RUNAWAY ELEVATOR. '
Visitors in a Hospital Spend a Lively Half
nour Trying to Get Out.
Who; might have resulted in a fatal acci- -
dent, but developed into a" ludicrous circum-
stance, happened a .short time ago in the
Allegheny General hospital. .1 well known
man in the steel business, who is popularly
called Tom, was attacked by a serious trouble
'n the head. A physician persuaded him to
go to the Allegheny General hospital. One
Saturday four men from the steel works
formed a party and called upon the sick man.
His room was on the second floor, and it was
necessary to take the elevator. The trip to
the room passed off successfully; very differ-
ently, however, on the return. After re«
maining with the invalid for some time it
was suggested that it would be advisable to
go.
Coming around to the elevator, the bell
was rung to call it. A pretty-«blonde nurse,
with laughing eyes, asked if any of the party
could run an elevator, because she had a‘
poultice to put on a patient and she was
afraid it would cool if she took the elevator
down again. The leader of the party came
to the front and said he would operate the
elevator, having had experience, and was an
adept at the job.
Having got in the elevator the leader
pulled the rope the reverse way to the floor
which was wanted. Like a flash the machine
struck the roof of the hospital, seriously dis-
concerting the entire party. A rumble of
discontent was heard within the box while
the men were straightening their battered
hats.
Again the elevator rope was pulled, and
quicker than the first ride in the elevator the
party was landed in the cellar. Fully twenty
minutes the elevator was going up and down
in a remarkable manner. Every man in the
uncontrollable box tried his skill in stopping
it. Up and down went the elevator. On
every floor numbers of nurses and patients
had gathered, watching the antics of the ma-
chine.
The elevator was at last stopped at the same
floor which the men got in at. One of them
thought that for security’s sake and his fam-
ily’s, not having an insurance on his life, he
had better get out. Just as he put one foot
on the passage the elevator made asudden
shoot, and he was sent whirling along the
hall. His clothes suffered considerably.
When the elevator got started again she
was as unmanageable as a wild bull. The
nurses shrieked, and the whole place was like
a bedlam. After spending half an hour see—
sawing the mad machine was finally brought
to a standstill. All got out thankful they
were alive.—Pittsburg Dispatch.
Banking Days in Turkey.
When he was in London Mr. M. E. Stone
told me of an amusing experience he had in
Constantinople. He wanted to draw some
money in that city, but upon going to the
bank he found that institution closed because
it was Friday, the Mussulmans’ Sabbath.
The next day the bank was closed because
Saturday was the Hebrew Sabbath. Of
course Sunday was observed out of respect to
the Christian religion, and it happened that
a'national holiday fell upon the following
Monday. To leave out of reckoning the nu-
merous national holidays, banks in Constan-
tinople are open to business only four days in
the week. When they are open they transact
business very leisurely; about an' hour is re-
quired for the cashing of a draft or a letter
of credit. When a customer comes in he
hangs his hat on a peg, sits down at a table,
sprinkles himself with Oriental insect pow-
der, reads the papers and smokes until his
turn to be waited upon comes ——-Eugene
Field’s Letter in Chicago News.
The Augustan Age of Rome.
The Augustan age of Rome has been lauded
to the zenith by hundreds of writers. It was
a. very good age for Rome, which, after all
that may be said, merely imitated Athens in
what was creditable, and was principally
noted for brute force. The Romans knew
how to die—no great accomplishment—but
not how to live. Most of the patricians were
at best but educated barbarians. Their en-
tire civil annals are but a record of warring
factions, the senate and plebeians continually
contending one against the other, under the
leadership of ;demagogues. As soon as any
one of them became conspicuous, he was as-
sassinated. The greatest man, by all odds,
that they ever had they butchered, of course.
And it was he alone, if anybody, who could
have restored order to the empire. Our ad-
miration of Rome lessens with our acquaint-
ance.——Arena.
Coldest City in the \Vorid.
The coldest city in the world is Yakutsk,
on the Lena river, in Siberia. The mean
temperature of the town throughout the year
is the same as that on the summit of Mont,
Blanc. There are many populous cities lying
much nearer the north pole, but in none of
them is the climate so bitter or the ground so
continuously and so deeply frozen as in Ya-
kutsk. And yet, notwithstanding, it has a
resident population of 5,000 souls, and it is a
greattstrading city as Well; thousands of mer-
chan , hunters and mariners throng its mar-
kets at specified seasons with the costliest furs
and skins and all sorts of necessities of life for
sale, and over a million of rubles change
hands yearly—Philadelphia Times.
The Color of Water.
What is the color of pure water? Almost
any person who has no special knowledge of
the subject will- reply at once, “It has no
color.” Yet everybody knows, either through
hearsay or by the evidence of his own eyes,
that the ocean is blue. Why the ocean looks
blue is a question that few who have crossed
it have ever sought to solve, and there are
probably many travelers who, though they
have seen" most of the famous rivers and lakes
in the world, have failed to notice the re-
markable difference in color which their
waters present. Even th‘e‘ocean is not uni-
form in color; in some platies its waters are
green or even yellowish.—Nature.
Paper from Spiden Webs.
George West, of Ballston, is in the posses-
sion of a curiosity in paper, sent him bya.
friend in Hong Kong, China. It 'isasheet
eleven by fourteen inches, made from the
web of the “sacred white spider” of the
Flowery Kingdom. Itis as lightasair‘and
almost as‘transparent, but is also beautifully
printed, containing about two columns of
matter, giving in English the story of how
“Midshipman Copplestone was I seated at
the Court of Pekin.”—Christian at Work.
An Object Lesson.
Mrs. Brown—Johnnie broke a pane of
glam, but as he told me about it at once, I
gave him an apple.
Mrs. Cobwigger—That will teach him a.
great lesson. _
Mrs. Brown-I’m afraid not. Assoon as
he had eaten the apple he went and broke an.
other window.—Epoch.
lelng the Responsibility.
“You will guarantee that the dress will fit
me?”
“Zat can not my aflaire, mess,” replied the
famous dvessmaker. “I make so dress;'y6u
are he one to see zat yOu fit it.”-—New York
Sun. ' '
-~-- - -A.
NORWALK GAZETTE, WEDNESDAY. APRIL 16. 1890.
ASSETS, - . .
Increasein Assets, .
Surplus,
Increase in Surplus, . . . .
Receipts,
Increase during year,
Paid Policy-Holders,
Increase during year,
Risks assumed,
Increase during year,
Risks in force,
Increase during year,
Policies in force,
Increase during year,
Policies Written in 1889,
Increase over 1888,
Loans on Collateral Securities,
be correct.
OF
Cash in Banks and Trust Companies at interest,
Interest accrued, Premiums deferred and in transit, etc,
I
T‘ MUTUL
INSURANCE COMPANY.
OF NEW YORK.
RICHARD A. MCCURDY, President.
LFor the Year Ending, December 3181:, 1889
" $l36,40| .328 02
$10,319,174 46
$9,657,248 44
$1,717,184 81
$31,119,019 62
$4,903,087 10
$15,200,608 38
$473,053 16
$151,602,483 37
$48,388,222 05
$565,949,933 92
$83,824,749 56
182,310
23,941
44,577
11,971
‘00.
THE ASSETS ARE INVESTED AS FOLLOWS :
Real Estate and Bond and Mortgage Loans,
United StatesBonds and other Securities,
$69,361,913 13
$50,323,469 81
$9,845,500 00
$2,988,632 79
$3,881,812 29
$136,401,328 02
Liabilties (including Reserve at 4 per cent,) $126,744,079 58
I have carefully examined the foregoing statement and find the same to
A. N. WATERHOUSE, Auditor.
From the Surplus above stated a dividend will be apportioned as usual.
Risks
Year. Assumed.
1885....
1886....
1887.. ..
1888....
1889.. ..
NEW YORK, January 29th, 1890.-
:Board of
Samuel F. Sprouls,
Lucius Robinson,
Samuel D. Babcock,
George S. Coe,
Richard A. McCurdy,
James C. Holden,
Herman C. van Post,
Alexander H. Rice,
Lewis May,
Oliver Harriman,
Henry W. Smith,
Robert Olyphant,
George F. Baker,
Joseph Thompson,
Dudley Olcott,
Frederick Cromwell,
J ulien T. Davies,
Robert Sewell,
A. N. WATERHOUSE, Auditor.
WILLIAM G. DAVIES, Solicitor.
GUSTAVUS S. WINSTON, M. D.
Outgtlslliding.
1884. . . .8 34,681,420. . . $351,789,285. . . . $103,876,178.51 . . . 84,743,771
46,507,139. . . . 368,981,441 . . . . 108,908,967.51. . . . 5,012,634
56,832,719. . . . 393,809,203. . . . 114,181,96324- . . . . 5,643,568
69,457,468. . . . 427,628,933. . . . 118,806,851.88.'. . . 6,294,442
103,214,261 . . . . 482,125,184. . . . 126,082,153.56 . . . . 7,940,063
151,602,483. . . . 565,949,934. . . . 136,401,32802. . . . 6,557,248
Surplus.
Trustees =
S. VanRensselaer Curzon,
Charles R. Henderson,
George Bliss,
Rufus W. Peckham,
J. Hobart Herrick,
Wm. P. Dixon,
Robert A. Grannis,
Nicholas C. Miller,
Henry H. Rogers,
J no, W. Auchincloss,
Theodore Merford.
William Babcock,
Preston B. Plumb,
William D. Washburn,
Stuyvesant Fish,
Augustus D. J uilliard,
Charles E. Miller,
James W. Husted.
ROBERT A. GRANNIS, Vice-President.
ISAAC F. LLOYD, 2d Vice President. WILLIAM J. EASTON, Secretary.
FREDERICK SCHRODER, Asst. Secretary.
EMORY MoCLINTOCK, LL.D., F. I. A. Actuary.
JOHN TATLOCK, Jn.; Asst. Actuary. CHARLES B. PERRY, 2d Asst. Actuary.
. FREDERIC CROMWELL, Treasurer.
JOHN A. FONDA, Assistant Treasurer. WILLIAM P. SANDS, Cashier.
EDWARD P. HOLDEN, Assistant Cashier.
WILLIAM W. RICHARDS, Comptroller.
. MEDICAL Dmnc'rons.
WALTER R. GILLETT, M. 11.,
E. J. MARSH, M.D.
A. 11. our. Agent-roman, Conn.
{JOHN W. NICHOLS. General Azent, New Haven, Conn.
Norwalk Chronicler