A FRlGATE BIRD OF THE GULF COAST
Bright rover of the sunlii; upper air,
Thy shadow flits across the mov eloss sea.
Until I seem down gazing near to thee,
And something of thy dreaming 1 aptui c share
{Ian thy shining pinions thou dost Dam
The 1adiance of the sunset. Dost thou flee
To some fair clime, some b1001ni11,, * try sting
tree,
Beyond the realm of sorrom or of care?
Is there a home in yonder secret space
In empyrcan ranges calm and still,
As the tradition telleth of thy race,
Where thou may'st rest above the reach of
ill?
Oh, tell to man 1v here is that secret pl ice
\Vhen storms s11 eep (low 11 11' heic he 111 .y flee
at 11' ill'
r—Laura F.Hinsda1e'm New 01 lea11s Ti1nes~Dc11'1o-
crat.
A JUST Illl’liDIllllV'"
“I really think that I, Eva Hamilton,am the
unhappiest girl in existence. I am engaged to
marry a great stupid, awkward creature,
whom I have known for less than a month,
and detest as if I had known him all my life,
while Fred—you know you met Fred last
summer—43 staying' in the same house and
can hardly speak a word to me, such is the
devotion of my odious fiance.”
The foregoing extract from a letter to a.
girl friend represents the condition in which I
found myself not long after my 19th birthday.
As I now look back 011 what happened long
ago I wonder how it was that Gilbert Darien,
"my odious fiance,” managed to put 11p with
my ill temper and evident dislike for hiscom-
puny, not to mention 14y incessant flirtation
-—for I’m afraid I did flirt—with Fred.
Poor Gilbert! He certainly was awkward
—-one of those big men who cannot move
vWithout upsetting something, whether it be a
valuable china vase 01' your equanimity; with
a heavy, colorless face, and nothing charac-
teristic about him save the difficulty he al-
ways experienced in disposing of his hands,
which is not, however, uncommon amongst
men. To these shortcomings must be added
his method of breathing; it was stertorous,
and could be heard at a distance of twenty
yards. But I oughtn’t to abuse it, seeing that
it often gave us warning in our stolen inter-
views of his approach, and became, ultimate-
ly, the means of my release from him.
I was not much over 19 when one day my
father addiessed me at b1eal1fast “Eva,
Mrs. D111 11,11 11 ants us to go there on the 5th. ”
This .1pp.u e11tl_1 ll. 1 .:1occnt 1'01 11211 11 nearly an-
nihilated me. The long expected blow had
fallen at last. Shortly after his return from
India my father, who was little better than a
stranger to me, had thrown out certain om-
inous hints as to the expediency of my get—
ting married; and then one fine dayinformed
me outright that it 11 is his one wish to see
me happily \1 ed 1d t1 the sex 1 of his old
friend Daritn. l 11' as, not 11111: .1t111all1 aghast.
Not to mention :1 'p1' 1111' on gagement, ” I
had never seen Gillie; 1.1111 could I marry
an utter stranger? liow ccuisl I throw over
Fred because he had only £400 a year, while
his unknown rival linl four thousand? I had
no mother to confide in, and had not the cour-
age to confess all to my respected parent,
who had returned from India a broken down
invalid, whose one object in life was, as he
informed me some twenty times a day, to see
me happily marric-l to the son of his old
fii 11d. “Happily 11.; vied, forsooth, to :1
111.111 one detests!" I bi.Le1'ly exclaimed, per-
haps rather unfairly, as I had never seen Gil-
bert, 11110, for ought I knew. might have
been an Adonis, as we 1 as a futurce Cimsus,
though, f1o111my fa ther’ 5 significant silence
as to his personal appearance, I had my
doubts.
At all events, one thing was certain, and
that was that I was not going to give up
Fred; and with this resolution I sat down
and wrote a long letter to him, in which I set
forth my woes. ll'hen I received Fred’s an-
swer. I was agreeably surprised to find that
the Dariens were not strangers to him, as he
had stayed with them as a friend of a younger
brother of Gilbert’s. “There is something,”
he wrote, "fishy about Gilbert. The fel-
low never leaves home, and is about as ill
bred a hippopotamus as I have ever met.
The idea of your 111a1‘1'ying him!” And here
followed a long diatribe 011 my father, and
what he called the “cussedness” of things in
general, and his financial affairs in particular.
However, there was a crumb of comfort at
the end of his letter, and that was contained
in the information that he would fish for an
invitation to Darien hall while we were there.
My curiosity was excited by the mystery,
the “something fishy” about the man whom
my father had chosen to be my future hus-
band. \\"as be subject to fits of madness?
“Was he a klepto- or dipso-, or anything
else horrid ending in omaniac? I deter-
mined to cross-question my father, and that
evening I set about the task.
I ultimately succeeded in eliciting the fol-
lowing information: “ 'That Gilbert was the
image of his poor father.” (“The fright!” I
mentally ejaculated, for I had seen a photo
of the poor father, in big, baggy white trou-
sers, the legs crossed, and regardng with a
wondering smile—as well he might—an enor-
mousn'nisshapen silk hat) ; “that he very rarely
left his home, having been educated there by
private tutors" (“keeper, 8 ” I exclaimed to my-
self); “that Da1ien hall had the reputation of
being haunted; that it 11 as my father’ s one
Wish in life to see me happily married to the
son of his dear old friend, and that he (my
father) wished I would not pester him with
my idiotic questions.” This last because I
asked if Gilbert’s eyes were blue (Fred has
the most charming blue ey cs you ever saw).
-.’Iy father and I 3.1 1‘ iv ed at Darien hall late
one evening, and a single glance showed me
that my 11' 01st fears were realized. The )ho-
tograph of my father’s “dearest friend”
might have been a portrait of the Apollo
Belvidere compared to the dearest friend’s
son, to whom, however, it bore a striking re-
semblance with regard to the inane smile—
a smile which, in addition to his general
sheepish manner, told me plainly that Gilbert
was aware of our respective parents’ plans
that we two should come together.
The next morning there was a kind of sol-
emn betrothal scene, at which Mrs. Darien
and my father officiated, and during which
Gilbert, like the person in the nursery rhyme,
continued to smile, perhaps at my misery.
The following three days I spent in coyly
repelling the advances of my prospective hus-
band.
1 was only sustained by the thought that
soon Fred would arrive, and the hope that he
would find some method of relieving me from
my painful position.
Gilbert had the imper tinence to remark
that he hoped I should like young Fred Hali-
well, though, between ourselves. he was
"rather a. prig. ” Finally, Fred arrived, and
was solemnly introduced to me as an utter
stranger. One of the few occasions on which
I saw Gilbert’s smile dry up was when he
saw how rapidly I got on with a. man Whom,
as he thought, I had just met for the first
time.
The days went by, and my position grew
more and more hateful. More th 11 once I
determined to. make a clean brefiT of it to
my father; but I could never screw up my
courage to pay such an insult to the memory
of his dearest friend as to decline to marry
his 5011. Moreover, though I had attained
the age of 19,1 had, strange to say, the rem- '
nants of a conscience, which from time to
time gave me h01r1ble mentalptweaks for
3 at the same time.
3:0RWALK GAZETTE, W EDN ESDAY,
what it was pleased to call my double faced-
ness, I being practically engaged to two men
But what excuse could I
give my fathei for breaking off my engage-
ment to Gilbert? It would not have been the
slightest use to plead that I didn’t love him,
or to find fault with his mental or bodily fea-
tures; while to confess that I was in love
with Fr ed would have resulted in obtaining
3 that penniless youth his conge f1 om Darien
; hall.
Fr,ed in the happy -go—lucky way w hich is
one of his chief failings (“No, I m not,” is
here inter posed in the manusmipt which I
gave my husband to cm rect)—Fred, I repeat,
with a Micawbe1 like trust in the futui e, in-
sisted that something would tu1 11 up 5001191
or later, and that we had better wait until
that sooner 01 latei, and spend our time
meanwhile in making the best of it, which
we did so effectually that even the long suf—
: fering Gilbert suddenly took it into his head
' to remonstrate with me on my manner to
“that fellow Haliwell.”
One morning during breakfast Fred be-
stowed upon me a series of mysterious nods
and winks, which evidently meant that he
had something important to tell me. He
aroused my curiosity by whispering in my
ear as he passed me a. cup of coffee, “I have
found out why he never leaves home.”
After breakfast I dispatched Gilbert to look
for a pair of gloves, which I happened to
have in my pocket, and followed Fred into
the garden. Leading me out of sight of the
house, he delivered himself of the following
oracular and unintelligible remark:
“He has epileptic fits."
“Good gracious! How did you find out?”
“W'ell,” said Fred, who was radiant with
joy at his discovery, “I’ll tell you. You
know I went up early to roost last night, F111d
when I got into my room my candle blew
out. I couldn’t find the matches anywhere;
so I went off to Gilbert’s room, glad of an
opportunity to see the inside of it, for he
keeps a fellow out of it as carefully as if it
were a Bluebeard’s cupboard, with dead wives
all hanging about. There was no one there,
so I walked straight in, saw a luminous box
of matches, struck a light and looked round.
The walls were all padded!”
Fred paused in triumph.
“Is that all?”-
“All, indeed! Il'hy, don’t you see? It’s as
clear as daylight. He’s subject to fits and
throws himself all over the place, and the
walls are padded so that he sha’n’t hurt him-
self.”
Fred’s argument seemed plausible enough;
and if his conjecture was correct, here was a
splendid manner of convincing my father of
the impossibility of my marriage with Gil-
ber.t
“W by, it‘s a clear case of just cause and
impediment,” cried Fred. “Even £4, 000 pm
annum can’t make up for those fits. \Vhy,
he might bite you in one of them and give
you hydrophobia, and then there’d be the fat
in the fire with a vengeance.”
But if he was subject to fits, why had he i
never had them duringthe time we had been
in the house? He had never failed, as we
knew to our cost, to put in an appearance in
what happened to be going 011 each day, and
usually behaved, as Fred reluctantly allowed,
“like a Christian.” Finally, in our ignor-
ance of matters, medical in general and fits
in particular, we decided that he only had
them by night, and that this was the reason
why he never slept away‘from home.
After much consideration we determined
with reluctance that the only way to dis-
cover the true state of affairs was for Fred
to conceal himself in Gilbert’s room and find
out if our conjecture was correct.
I scarcely slept a wink 011 the night on
which Fred had settled to put his project into
execution, expecting every minute to hear
piercing shrieks from the remote quarter of
the house in which they slept. However,
nothing occurred to disturb inc, and meeting
Fred before breakfast, as we had arranged, in
the garden, I overwhelmed him with a flood
of questions. “Did he frighten you much?
How did you manage to hide? Is he very
violent? Does he foam at the month?”
After a tantalizing and, to me, inexplicable
fit of laughter, Fred told me what had hap-
pened. “I managed to hide myself in a ward-
robe in his room, and, after what seemed a
fearful time, Gilbert came up and began to
undress. Good heavens! You should see the
way that follow ogles himself in the glass;
why, he’s nearly as bad as you—as a girl, I
mean. \Vell, I was in an awful funk that
he’d open the wardrobe, but he didn’t; and
at last he got into bed without having shown
the slightest symptoms of having a fit. I
can tell you I was disappointed, and deter-
mined to wait till he was asleep, and then
leave the room. I must have dozed off, for
suddenly I woke with a fearful start, at what
I thought wasa clap of thunder, about an
inch from my car. In three seconds I had
found out the secret of the padded walls: he
snorcs like a steam worked fog horn !”
Fred was right. This was the horrible
seamy side to the silver lining of £4,000 a
year.
“'e had a certain delicacy about informing
my father of the one failing of his dearest
friend’s son, so we had recourse to stratagem.
We managed to contrive that Gilbert and
my father should be boxed up together for a
ten mile drive home from a ball in the neigh-
boring county.
W'e left Darien hall the next day.
“I assure you, my dear, that young fellow
cracked the carriage window, not to men-
tion the drum of my ear, with his snoring.
I could not think of you marrying such a
man. His poor father never did such athing.”
—True Flag.
Fashions in Jew cli y.
P1 e.ty )endent watches set in crystal balls
are among the fashionable toys of today. They
hang as an order, secured by a jeweled brooch
on the owner’s bodice. The small chain clasp
purses, usually seen in steel, which many wo-
men carry in their hands when shopping, can
be had in gold or silver gilt, with the mono-
gram, delicately wrought in gold and rose
diamonds, 011 them. Some of » the watches
set in bracelets have the face of red enamel,
looking exactly like a ruby. The most mi-
nute watches are set in the gold and jeweled
balls, which, from a. short gold chain, hang
from the buttons of a bodice. The ball it-
self is not as large as a. moderate sized cherry,
and the watch is set in one side of it. Deli-
cate chain bracelets with the date of the year,
“MDCCCXC,” in diamonds, connecting the
chains; stars, with a single brilliant at the
end of a gold pin between the points; large
horsehoes, single stone necklets, with the dia-
monds set farther apart than formerly;
names, as if written by the hand of the own-
er, carried out in gold, or in rose diamonds,
are among the latest designs. The latter is
often given to bridesmaids, and a small edi-
tion of the same, as a pin, to a man. An odd
earring, old fashioned brooch or jeweled but-
ton is often set in the top of asmelling bottle.
.For the Military.
Militiamen should have regular habits and
show uniform courtesy.
If the lieutenant is particular now he may
be general after a. while.
It isn’t the number of men a soldier kills so
much as the number of men he does not let
kill him that makes him a. warrior.
Women love the profession of arms and the
practice as well.
A soldier never turns his back to the foe,
because he is taught to be polite to strangers.
—Wuhingt9n Star.
pea "and paste
to nearly an inch have already been made of;
All AGE WITH A MAD TIGER.
THRILLING ADVENTURE OF A WAY
INSPECTOR IN INDIA.
Pursued for Miles by an Enraged Beast
Whose Cub “’as Killed by the Car.
Armed with Only a. Revolver—Saved by
a Fortunate Shot from a Hunter.
Since the construction of the Dacca-My-
mousing railway, a space of two years or
more, I had been permanent way inspector
of a certain division, ten miles in length, that
lay about midway on the line, the total ex-
tent of which was seventy miles. This divis-
ion began onflthe verge of the vast Madapur
forest and lay completely in the midst of a
dense tangled jungle, which was inhabited by
only a few people and on the other hand was
infested with bears, tigers, panthers and hog
deer.
I never was much of a. sportsman, and per-
haps this explains how I fell into the careless '
habit of going on my inspections compare;
tively unarmed. I made the round trip three
times a. week 011 a. trolly, which is merely a
high seat on wheels, and is pushed along the
track by the trolly men, who are usually fleet
footed athletic natives.
It was a very comfortable mode of travel-
ing, if a little slow; for the seat is provided
with a soft back rest and one can stretch
out at ease with a sun umbrella. and a good
cigar.
Occasionally I saw deer run across the
track, and once a. panther gave a brief
glimpse of himself as he dove into the jungle.
Tigers I knew there were of course, for I fre-
quently saw their tracks in the soft ditch
that ran alongside the railway cutting.
DESERTED BY THE NATIVES.
One damp, sultry morning I had just start-
od from the station and my trolly, men, Per-
lhad and Jung, were bowling me along at a
gentle rate of speed. It had rained heavily
the night before, and for a. while frequent
stops were made to clear away the limbs
which the storm had blown on the track at
some points in great confusion. This occu-
pied considerable time, and it was toward
noon when we approached the center of the
division.
I always carried a. pistol with me, not from
fear of wild beasts, but because the few Hin-
doos who inhabited parts of the forest were
not above suspicion. We had just struck the
commencement of a rather heavy grade
which circled round a bend some twenty
yardsahead and then swept on in a straight
line for a distance of a mile and a half.
We were going pretty rapidly, and I could
hear the quick, heavy breathing of the Hin-
doos behind me as the trolly turned a curve.
I was in the act of lighting a cigar when a
loud cry from Pershad caused me to drop the
burning match, and wheeling round I saw
the two rascally Hindoos making off as fast
I as their legs would carry them.
I stared in amazement for a second or two
and then turned and looked down the rail-
way. That one brief glimpso nearly stood
my hair on end, for sprawled lazily 011 the
track barely fifty yards away lay a. mon-
strous tigress fondling two cubs that were
sporting between the rails, and beside her
stood the father of the family, sweeping his
big tail to and fro and calmly watching my
approach.
RUNNING OVER A TIGER.
Just there the trolly struck a steeper part
of the grade, and away it went with a rush.
I grasped the brake wildly and threw all my
strength against it. For one brief second the
speed slackened perceptibly. Then came a
quick, sharp crack, and off we went again’ at
such a dizzy speed that the tangled foliage of
the jungle shot past like a wavy green cur—
tain.
The brake had given way. The thought of
jumping off never occurred to me. I hung
to the seat in helpless terror, my gaze fixed
with a resistless fascination on the group of
tigers ahead.
I have a very faint recollection of seeing
the tigress walk leisurely off the track at the
last moment, followed by one of her cubs.
I remember the big tiger, too, crouching in
the ditch, with his great red tongue lolling
out, and then, as the trolly bounced and
grated over some obstacle and my ears were
deafened by a most fearful snarling, I knew
that I had run over one of the cubs. The
jolting was over in an instant, and the trolly,
without leaving the rails, sw ept 011 down the
grade at a. terrific rate of speed. Thei e was
one tiger less' in the Madapur forest, I knew,
f01, glancing down at the footboard, I saw
spattered drops of blood.
All of a sudden I heard above the dizzy hum
of the wheels a most terrific roar, and turn-
ing instantly around, I was startled to see the
big tiger bounding over the rails in hot pur-
suit.
THE CHASE AND ITS RESULT.
At every jump he roared, and my first im-
pr ession was that he would ove1 take the trol-
ly in about one minute. Remembering my
1 evolver, I took it from my pocket and cocked
it. Anothei glance made it apparent that
the tiger was not gaining any, and as the
trolly was now on the very steepest part of
the grade I felt pretty confident that I would
ultimately leave him behind.
For the next quarter of a mile I actually
did gain, and then, as I began to draw near
the foot of the g1 ado, the situation assumed a
very ticklish phase, f01, astonishing to relate,
my vindictive pursuer showed no signs of
giving up the 1 ace. He was bounding grace-
fully over the ties, thirty or forty yards be-
hind, without the faintest t1 ace of wear iness.
Of course, if I could keep up the present rate
of speed I would be all right, but just there
was the rub. The bottom of the grade was
close at hand and then came level in ack.
Hardly conscious of what I was doing I
turned and emptied the r emaining chambers
at the tiger as fast as I could pull the trig-
ger. One or more of the shots must have
struck him, for he stopped short with a. fiend-,
ish roar and then came on more furiously
than ever.
I hurled the empty revolver at him and
then settled back on the seat in despair. I
could hear the soft patter of the cushioned
feet on the ties, the hot breath seemed to be
scorching my neck. and then a gun shot was
fired almost beside my ear and I caught a.
brief glimpse of a. white helmet and a smok—
ing rifle barrel. I tumbled off the trolly
somehow and there lay my late pursuer,
breathing his life out across the rails.
My-timely rescuer was the resident engi-
neer from Dacca, who was spending a. week’s
furlough 111 the jungle. My firing had at-
tracted his attention, and he had arrived just
in time. —Philadelphia Times.
Thirst for Knowledge.
First Newsboy—Any luck terday?
Second Newsboy—Luck? Y’d better b’lieve
it. Been selling newspapers 'on Wall street
all the mornin’—couldn’t git ’em fast enough.
“Gee Whittikerl What did' the papers
have in?”
“All about th’ extradition treaty. ”—New
York Weekly.
New Material for Paper.
A new industry has beean in Sweden .
in the manufact e of paper from moss. Pa-
of diflerent thicknesses up
it. eNew York Commercial Advertiser.
PETE AND THE PHONOGRAPH.
A Dog That Declines to Show Surprise at
the “farmers of Science.
N at to Mr. Crane himself and Mrs. Crane,
who is as popular among those who know
her'as her genial husband, the two most at-
tractive features of the elegant flat in Fifty-
seventh street are Pete and a phonograph.
Pete is a bright little black and tan, the joint I
property of Mr. and Mrs. Crane. Much
travel and careful training have made of
Pete one of the most intelligent of dogs. He
has seen a great deal of this great country of
ours, alivays accompanying his master and
mistress on the .comedian’s tours, and what
he does not know about Pullman car porters
and conductors and hard hearted hotel pro-
prietors is not worth learning by a well bred
dog. He has a bright, saucy eye, which
looks you stiaight in the face and gleams
with canine wisdom. Pete always barks at
the approach of a strangei, but the minute
the stranger’s hand is grasped by Mr. or Mrs.
Crane he is accepted as a member of the fam-
ily, and not even a growl disturbs the social
harmony of the occasion after that. Pete is,
to sum his character up in a few words, a r..-
markabl y well behaved dog.
The antipathy of Pullman cal porters and
hotel keepers to dogs of any kind is well
known, and Pete has =bad many an adventure
in his encounters with these unfeeling people.
His master and mistress, however, have a
sleight of hand trick by which they render
him invisible to all but themselves when oc-
casion requires. and Pete always travels with
them in as fine style as they, in spite of rail-
road rules and perquisite grabbing baggage
smashers. Just how this is accomplished is a
secret which even a reporter feels bound to
guard as too sacred for the public car.
Pete is always at the theatre when Mr.
Crane acts. He goes to his master’s dressing
room, curls himself up in a chair, and re-
mains there usually until the end of the play.
Mr. Crane may change his clothes '3. dozen
times in the course of the play, but the dog
knows every suit, and never moves until his
master begins to make the last change after
the curtain has fallen in the last act. Then
Pete arises, shakes himself, and makes ready
to take his seat in the carriage which whirls
him home. Occasionally he makes excur-
sions 011 the stage between the acts, and greets
his friends among the company.
On these forays his eyes are kept on all
sides of him, and if Mr. De Vere, the stage
manager, happens to appear, Pete scampers
off in a. hurry to his master’s dressing room.
He knows that he has no business on the
stage, but he also knows that nobody but De
Vere will feel called 011 to enforce the rules.
Except at those times when a guilty fear
overcomes his natural affection, Pete is a
warm friend of Stage Manager De Vere.
The phonograph was for some time a mys-
tery to Pete, and he eyed it suspiciously as it
sent forth its volume of sound from familiar
voices. On Mr. Crane’s cylinders are songs
and recitations by Frank TVilson, J one Stuart,
“The Senator” himself, and a number of
friends with whom Pete is familiar in the
flesh. ”When it was first brought to his at—
tention Pete barked lustil y at the phonograph,
but he soon got used to it, and would walk
about unconcerned] y while it was being used,
01' sit scdatcly by and enjoy its utterances
with the guests of the family.
One day a friend of Mr. Crane’s prepared
a cylinder for Pete‘s special benefit. He sud-
denly ended a humorous recitation and song
with the shout, “Here, Pete! come here, you
little scoundrel! Here, Pete! Pete! Pete!”
The dog bounded around him in glee, but
when the calls were repeated by the phono-
graph in the familiar voice of the man who
was absent, the dog was fairly transfixed
with amazement. He stared at the great
funnel from which the call issued, jumped
frantically about it and whined. This was
repeated two 01' three times, while his master
and mistress, with their guests, laughed loudly
at his performances.
Then Pete began to meditate. TVhat his
line of reasoning was will never be known,
for with all his intelligence Pete is dumb.
But he evidently came to the conclusion that
he was being made game of, and one day
when the shrill yell “Here, Pete!” issued
fr om the phonograph, the dog failed to re-
spend in the accustomed way. He uttered a
low g1 owl seated himself gravely before the
funnel, and with a sedate face sat watching
it until the sounds ceased, when he arose,
grabbed a little rubber chicken and began
playing with it as though nothing had oc—
curred to arouse his curiOsity. He has never
been deceived by the phonograph since, and.
if his little brain is filled with wonder when
the instrument is on exhibition, he exercises
a remarkable self control over his face. Pete
and the phonograph are now on equal terms.
He declines to be astonished by it.—-New
York Times.
Animals That Eat with Their Gizzard.
The cattle—fish, which, among other strange
things, always walks with its head dovi n-
w aid, does not chew its food at all, but mas-
ticates with its gizzaId. So do geese, fowls,
ducks and indeed all modern birds. Seizing
their food in their beaks, they swallow it
whole, if grain or seed, and in large pieces if
it be fruit or bread. In that condition it goes
into the gizzar,d a powerful muscle with a.
1'91 5‘ tough, horny lining, which acts as a mill,
being suofiiciently powerful to pulvei 1ze un—
cooked corn. To assist in the milling process
all grain—eating birds swallow little pieces of
gravel, glass, crockery, metal, etc., the horny
interior of the gizzard being sufficiently tough
to escape cutting by these materials. It is
because of this fact that the ostrich has ac-
quired his reputation of enjoying a ferrugin-
0111: diet—San Francisco Chronicle.
Cost of Animal and Electric Power.
Experts have for some time been experi-
1 muting and estimating upon the compara-
tiv 0 cost of r unning a line of street cars by
electricity and by 1101 58 power. After care-
ful inquir v and investigation they have 19-
ported that taking a line of fifty cars the
average cost of ope1ating per day with horses
is'$.30..’"5 15, against a cost when electricity is
used of $68. 50 pe1 day. This leaves a balance
of $231.9 -5 per day, or nearly $5 a day on each
car, in fav01 of electric traction; this means
the saving in a single year of a. large propor-
tion of the amount necessary for equipping
the cars with elect: lo appliances for pro-
pelling them.—New York Commercial Ad-
vertiser.
Strange, Wasn’t It?
Fenderson says young women are awfully
touchy creatures, and this is how he proves
it: They were getting up some amateur
theatricals, and when Fe nderson told the girls
that they must let down their hair, according
to stage directions, they all declared they’d
have nothing more to do with it—all except
one, a. girl who without hesitation shook out
her tresses, which reached almost to the floor.
“And do you know,” Fenderson says, “all
the rest of ’em declared she was a. brazen
faced thing. I can’t understand it now, by
Jove l”—Boston Transcript.
Natural Gas in Caesar’s Day.
Natural gas has been known and exten-
sively used in China and other parts of Asia
for many centuries, and history tells us of a
natural gas well in France in the time of
Julius Cmr It was first discovered in the
United States near Pittsburg, about fifty
vpars ago. but it is only of late years that it,
This been exvensnelv utilized. —-Golden Days.
MAY 7,
i890.
STATEMENT
OF
OF NEW YORK.
ASSETS, - - -
Increase in Assets,
Surplus,
1110195188 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.
0
RICHARD A. MCCURDY,
Cash 1n Banks and Trust Companies at interest,
Interest accrued. Premiums defeired and in tiansit, etc ,
- $I36,40l .328 02
a...
V...
Real Estate and Bond and Mortgage Loans, . . . .
United States Bonds and other Securities, . . . .
Risks 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 G. von 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.
JOHN A. F ON DA Assistant Treasurer.
.WILLIAM G. DAVIES, Solicitor.
GUSTAVUS S. WINSTON, M. D.
Outstanding.
1884....3 34,681,420....$351,789,..285....$103,87617851....$4,,743771
46, 507, 139.... 368, 981, 441.... 108,908,967. 51..
56::832719.... 393::809203.... 114,,.18196324.... 5::643568
69,457, 468.... 427::628933.... 118::.80685188.... 6,294,442
103::214261.,.. 482::125184.... 126::082153.56.... 7::940063
151,,602483.... 565::949934.... 136,,401328.02.... 6::557248
Trustees =
S. VanR-ensselaer Curzon,
THE MUTUAL
INSURANEE EUMPANY.
:For the Year Ending December 3181:, 1889-
$10,319,174 46
$9,657,248 44
$1,717,184 81
$31,119,019 62
' $4,903,087 10
$15,200,608 38
$151,602,483 37
$48,388,222 05
$565,949,933 92
$83,824,749 55
Pfesident.
$473,058 16
182,310
23,941
44,577
11,971
THE ASSETS ARE INVESTED AS FOLLOWS :
$69,361,913 13
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.
Charles R. Henderson,
George Bliss,
Rufus W. Peckham,
J. Hobart Henick,
Wm. P. Dixon, ‘
Robert A. Grannis,
Nicholas C. Miller,
Henry H. Rogers,
Jno, W. Auchincloss,
Theodore Morford.
William Babcock,
Preston B. Plumb,
Wilham D. Washburn,
Stuyvesant Fish,
Augustus D. J uilliard,
Charles E. Miller,
James W. Husted.
ROBERT A. GRANNIS, Vice-President.
FREDERIC CROMWELL, Treasurer.
WILLIAM P. SANDS, Cashier.
EDWARD P. HOLDEN, Assistant Cashier.
WALTER. R. GILLETT, M. 1).. _
E. J.'_MARSH, 11. D.
ISAAC F. LLOYD, 2d Vice President. WILLIAM J. EASTON, Secretary.
FREDERICK SCHRODER, Asst. Secretary.
, EMORY MoCLINTOCK, LL.D., F. I. A. Actuary.
JOHN TATLOCK, JR., Asst. Actuary. CHARLES B. PERRY, 2d Asst. Actuary.
WILLIAM W. RICHARDS, Comptroller.
MEDICAL Dmno'rons.
A, H. CAMP, Agent, Nomalk, Conn.
1.101111 W. NICHOLS. Gon9ral Agent, New Haven, 691111.
$50,323,469 81
$9,845,500 00
$2,988,632 79
$3,881,812 29
W
Liabilties (including Reserve at 4 per cent,) $126,744,079 58
Surplus.
5, 012, 634
Norwalk Chronicler