NORWALK-GAZETTE, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 11.
1980.
f
VIOLETS.
Blue and white, in soft array,
Over the meadows the violets lay,
Lowly and meek, as 113' kneeling to pray.
A little brook goeth murmuring by,
Singing its tcnderest lullaby,
While softly the violets'stir and sigh.
And to the mosses gently cling,
And dainty bits of color fling
Over the meadows wavering.
List, as they whisper, soft and low,
To the warm earth heart below,
there all sweet- treasures spring and grow.
And the sweet bird, in yonder tree,
Sings to the violets merrily,
Sending his heart out cheerily.
And fleeting shadows come and go
Over the grasses, swift and slow,
Down where the blossoms bloom below.
Little violets, dainty and fair,
This one brief hour. oh, let me share
The spirit of your sweetness rare.
—Vick‘s Magazine.
A HERO.
One evening in Algeria, at the close of a
day’s hunt, a violent storm surprised me
on the plains of the Calif some miles from
Orleansville. Not the shadow of a village
or caravansary in sight. Nothing but
dwarf palms, thickets of mastic, and great
plowed fields stretching off to the horizon.
Moreover the Calif, swelled by the showers,
commenced to roar in a. most alarming
manner, and I saw the risk of passing the
night in a marsh. Happily the civil inter-
preter from the bureau of Milianah, who
accompanied me, remembered that there
was quite near us, hidden in a little valley,
a tribe whosc chief he knew, and we de-
cided to go and request his hospitality for
the night.
The Arab villages of the plains are so
buried in cactus and the fig trees of Bar-
bary, and their huts of dried earth are
builf so close to the soil, that we were in
the midst of the settlement before we knew
it. IVas it the hour, the-rain, that caused
this deep silence? The country seemed to
me very sad, as if under the burden of a
grief which had suspended all life. In the
fields all about us the harvest was going
to ruin. The wheat and the barley, every-
where neglectet , lay rotting upon the
ground. The barrows and the rusty plows
lay Scattered about, forgotten in the rain.
All the tribe had this air of dilapidated
sadness (111.1 i:n.li1l:'crcuce. The dogs scarce-
ly barked at our approach. From time to
time, from the depths of a hut, could be
heard the cries of a child, and we could see
in the thicket the shaved head of an urchin
or the perforated bulk of some old man.
Here and there the little donkeys shivcred
under thc'bushes. But not a horse, not a
man, as though we were still in the times
of the great wars; and all the cavalicrs had
been gone for months. .
The house of the chief, a sort of long
it
farm house, with white, windowless walls, ‘
seemed no more lively than the rest. “'0
found the stables ope: , and not a groom to
take our horses. “Let us look in the Moor-
ish cafe,” said my companion.
That which is called the Moorish cafe is
the reception room c“ the Castcllan Arabs,
a house within a ho... ‘. reserved for tran-
sient guests,wherc these good Mussulmans,
so polite and so affable, ind means to exer-
cise their hospitality while preserving the
iamiliar intimacy commanded by the law.
The Moorish cafe of the chief Si-Sliman
was open and silent as his stables.
The high walls, painted with lime, the
arms and trophies of war, the ostrich
plumes, and the broad low divan running
entirely around the room, all trickled with
the rain blown in by the gale. However,
there was some one there. First the old
coffee man, an old Kabyl in rags, cowcred
with his head between his knees, near an
overturned hrazicr. Then the son of the
chief, a beautiful child, feverish and pale,
who rested on a divan, rolled in a black
burnousc, with two great greyhounds at
his feet. Vhen we entered no one moved.
One of the greyhounds slightly stirred his
head, and the child deigned to turn tow-
ards us his beautiful dark eyes. feverish
and Lin; '
.1:
ushing.
. is Si—Siirzian?” demanded the in-
The coffee man moved his hands
head with a vague gesture,
- .:‘-d t.\ indicate the horizon, far,
. _ \Te understood that Si-Sliman
".' on a long journey; but asthc
Wit-d our continuing on our way,
n'ctor. addressing the son of the
i = n; im, in Arabic, that we were
i'ri~::."; of his f.:tli(:1"s and we bcsought
‘ in: us shelter until the next day.
(-1: the child rcsc, notwithstand—
" which parched him, gave or-
:.:.i’.'-;c man, then, motioning to
with :1 courteous air, as if to
. You are my guests,” he saluted us
intlu- Aral fashion, with head inclined
an: a l-Liss from the ends of his fingers, and ,'
wrapping himself proudly in his burnousc,
left the room with the dignity of a chief
and master of the house.
Behind him the coffee man rclighted his
hraz-zier, placed on it two microscopic ket-
tles. and, while he prepared our coffee we
succeeded in drawing; from him some dc—
tuils of his master‘s journey and the
strung:- ‘11211 which had fallen upon the
tribe. The liabyl spoke fast, with the
gestures of an old woman, in a fine guttu-
ral language, now (piickly and now inter-
riu‘ited with long silences, during which
could he heard the ruin splashing on the
tessellatc-{l pavement of the interior court,
the singing kettles and the barking of the
jackals, spread by millions over the plain.
Here is. what happened to the unhappy
Si-Sli nan. Four months before, on the
15th of August, he had received that fa-
mous decoration of the Legion of loner
which he had been promised. He was the
only chief of the province who had not al—
ready receivcd it. All the others were
knights and officers; two or three even car-
ried round their haiks the grand ribbon of
commander. and innocently used it as a
handkerchief, as I have often seen the
’asha Eoualcm doing. That which had
until then prevented Si-Sliman from re-
ceiving the decoration was a quarrel which
he had had w'th the chief of the Arabian
bureau, and military comradeship is so
powerful in Algeria that for ten years the
name of the chief had figured on the list
for promotion witl out sue ceding in pass-
ing.
80 you may imagine the joy of brave Si—
Sliman when the morning of the 15th of
August a Spahi from Orleansville brought
him the little gilded casket with the brevet
of the Legion, and when Baia, the best be—
loved of his four wives, fastened the cross
of France upon his camel’s hair burnouse.
t was the occasion of much feasting and
rejoicing for the tribe. All night the tam-
bourines and the reed flutes resounded.
There were dances, bonfires, and I know
not how many sheep wefe'killed, and, that
nothing might be Wanting to complete the
feast, a famous extemporizer of chndel
cemposed in honor of Si-Sliman a magnifi-
cent cantata, commencing: “Oh! Wind,
harness thy steeds to carry the good news
abroad.”
- The next day, at daylight, Si-Sliman
called his followers to arms and started for
E Algiers with his horsemen to tender his
' thanks to the governor.
At the gate of the
city the rctinuc halted, and, according to
custom, the chief went alone to the palace
of the government, saw the Due de Mala-
koff, and assured him of his devotion to
France in the pompous phrases of the ori-
ental style, which passes for picturesque
because for three thousand years all the
young men have been likened to palm trees
and all the women to gazelles. Then, his
duty done, he went on to show himself in
the town, made his devotions at the mosque
in passing, distributed silver to the poor,
visited the barbers and the embroiderers,
purchased for his wives perfumes, flowered
silks, blue corsclets all trimmed with gold
lace, red riding boots for his little chief,
paying for all without haggling and spread-
ing his joy about in beautiful donros. He
was seen in the bazaars, seated on the
Smyrna carpets, drinking coffee at the door
with the Moorish merchants, who congratu-
lated him.
The crowd pressed about curious to see
him. One said: “There is Si-Sliman, the
embcrour has sent him the cross,” and the
little Moorish maidens, entering from the
baths and eating their pastry cakes as they
went, stole long glances of admiration
from beneath their white masks towards
that beautiful new silver cross so proudly
worn. Ah! we do, indeed, have occasional
beautiful moments in this life.
As evening drew on Si-Sliman prepare;
to rejoin his rctinuc and already had his
foot in the stirrup, when a messenger from
the prefecture came panting up to him:
“Herc thou art, Si—Sliman, I have search-
ed for thee everywhere. Come quickly, the
governor wishes to speak with thee.”
Si—Sliman followed him confidently, but
in crossing the great Moorish courtyard
of the palace he met his chief of bureau,
who gave him an evil smile. This smile
from an. cur-my frightened him, and he
‘rcmbled as he entered the salon of the
govcrnrn'. The marshal received him seat-
ed astride a chair. “Si—Slimun,”hc said,
with his ordinary brutality and that fa<
,mous nasal voice which always caused
those who surrounded him to tremble, “Si
Sliman, my man, I am distressed. It is
not thou who shouldst have been deco-
rated. It is the kaid of the Zoug-Zougs.
Thou must give back thy cross.”
The beautiful bronzed head of the chief
blushedas before the fire of a forge. A
convulsive movemci‘it shook his tall form.
His eyes blazed. But it was only a flash.
He lowered them almost immediately and
bowed before the governor.
“Thou art the master, my lord,” he said,
and pulling the cross from his breast he
laid it on the table. His hand trembled;
tears stood on his long lashes. Old Polis-
sier was touched.
“Come, come, my brave man, it will be
ready for next year.”
And he held out his hand with a friend-
1y air.
The chief lil’filtlll not to see it, bowed
without replying. and left the room.
lie knew l:"=‘.‘.‘ 2 '1: faith to place in the
promise of the shal, and saw himself
forever dishonored by an intrigue. The
story of his disgrace had already spread
through the town. The Jews of thelluc
Bab Azoun sneer-ed as he passed. The
Moorish merchants, on the contrary, turned
away from him with a glance of pity, and
the pity hurt him more than the laughter.
He went his way, keeping close to the walls
and through the darkest lanes. The spot
where his cross had lain burned him like
an open wound, and all the time he
thought: “What will my cavaliers say,
what will my women say?”
Then he was seized with a fit of rage.
He saw himself preaching the “holy war”
on the frontier of Morocco, always red
with fire and battle, 0r roaming the streets
of Algiers at the head of his horsemen,
pillaging the Jews. slaying the Christians,
and falling himself in the great devasta-
tion where his shame would be forever
hidden. Anything seemed possible to him
rather than return to the tribe. All at
once, in the midst of his vengeance, the
thought of the embcrour flashed upon
him like a light.
The ember-our! For Si-Sliman, as for
all the Arabs, all ideas of justice and of
power were summed up in this one word.
He was the true chief of the faithful. He
was a faith for these )Iussulmans 'in their
decline. That other one, he of Stamboul, ap-
peared to them from afar, like an incarna-
tion of good, a sort of invisible pope, who
kept for himself only the spiritual power,
and in the licgira in which we live it is
Well known how much that is worth.
But the cmberour, with his great can-
non, his muavcs and his iron fleet! From
the moment he thought of him, Si-Sliman
believed himself saved. Surely the cm-
pea-or would give him back his cross. It
was only an affair of: an eight days’ jour—
ney. and he believed so firmly in his suc—
cess that he instructed his followers to
await .ll:$ rot-urn at the gate of Algiers.‘
The ncxt day’s packet started him towards
Paris. meditative and serene, as if for a
pilgrimage to Mecca.
Poor Si-Sliman! it was four months since
he left, and his letters to his wives spoke
not yet of re urn. For four months the un-
happy chief had been lost in the whirlpool
of Paris, passing his life in running from
one ministry to another, everywhere ridi-
culed, caught in the formidable gear of the
French admiilistration, sent from bureau
to bureau, soiling his burnouse on the
wooden seats of the ante—chambers, on the
watch for an audience which he never ob-
tained; then, in the evening he might be
seen, with his long, sad lace, ridiculous by
its majesty, inralting for his key in a lodg—
ing house oilico and mounting to his room,
weary with wandering. but always proud,
clinging to hope and desperate as a gambler
defending his honor.
In the meantime his cavalicrs, squatting
at the Bab Azoun gate, waited with orien—
tal fatalism; the horses, pickcted out,
neighed from the sea shore. In the tribe
all was in suspense. .The harvest withered
in the fields for lack of laborers. The
women and children counted the days, with
eyes turned tmvards Paris. It was pitiful
to see how many hopes and how much_
despair and ruin followed already in the
wake of this bit 6f red ribbon. \thn
would it all end?
“God alone knows,” said the old coffee-
man, with a sigh, and by the half open
door, above the sad purple plain, his bare
arm pointed to a young crescent moon
rising in the misty heavens—Alphonse
Daudet.
One of Many.
“Men who think too much are said to be
dangerous, are they not?” said Miss Belle
Peppcrton to Gus de Jay.
“Ya-as; I believe so. IVhy do you ahsk?”
“It occurred to me that you must be such
a safe sort of a person to have in a com-
munity.”—-\Vas'hington Post.
Didn’t Like the Taste.
Once little Eddie was given a trochee. ,It
looked nice, and Eddie was, therefore much
disappointed when he found that its taste
belied its attractive appearance.
“ Can’t you give me a ripe one?” he
asked with a frown. “This is very green.”
—New York Press. '
American Sculptors in Florence.
The studio where Hiram Powers worked
so'long. remains just as heleft it. Some
years before his death I called there, and
he showed me his artistic children, his
“Eve,” his “Greek Slave” and other stat-
ues, and a great company of busts. Now I
find his son, Nicholas Longworth Powers,
doing the like good work in the same place.
In looking at the father’s statues I could
trace the growth of his art. Ithn Thor-
waldsen visited him be inspected the “Eve”
closely, and Powers apologized for it, as
“his first work.” Thorwaldscn said, “I
know good sculptors who would be proud
to call it their last.” ”While conversing
with the son and his wife, and with the
widow Powers, 9. by no means aged lady, I
almost expected to see the door open and
the old sculptor again appear, with his cap
and blouse, his genial face and twinkling
eye.
He stands there in marble, and from the
shelves around look down the hundred and
fifty admirable busts he made. It was like
being at an old time reception. Webster,
Everett, Longfellow, Bryant, Bellows—but
the list would be too long of the personages
one meets here. In a neighboring studio
the Boston sculptor, Ball, is doing good
work, as also his son-in-law, Cooper, of
Norfolk, Va. Adjacent studios are also oc-
cupied by \Villiam Green Turner, of N ew-
port, R. I., and Larkin Mead, both doing
excellent work. The center of Mead’s
studio is occupied by a colossal allegory of
the Mississippi. The marble block weighed
forty-four tons, and smashed the freight
car that first attempted to bring it. The
huge, long bearded, Neptune like father of
waters has a water source leaping beside
him, and decorations of Indian corn and
other products of his fertilization, includ-
ing an alligator under his foot. But funda-
mentally hc rests, like the Hindoo’s Earth,
on a turtle—Cor. Boston Transcript.
The IlIoney in' This Country.
How many people know how much there
is in this country of what people 'call
“money,” how much in gold and sil-
ver coin, and how much in greenbacks
and other paper currency bearing the
stamp of the United States government?
Very few. Inquiry at the treasury depart-
ment discovers the fact that there is, all
told, just a little over two billions, or be-
tween 830 and $40 apiece for every man,
woman and child in the United States. Of
this a little over one—half is in gold and
silver coin, and a little less than one-half
in paper of various kinds. Of the metal
money about two—thirds are in gold and
one-third in silver. Of the paper about
onothird is in United States notes or green-
backs, one-fourth in silver certificates, one-
sixth in gold certificates, one-fifth in na-
tional bank notes and the remainder in va-
rious denominations.
But the $2,000,000,000 of United States cur-
rency is not all in circulation among the
people. More than one—third is locked up
in the treasury building, and that is the
normal state of things. One-half of all the
gold and threefourths of all the silver is
locked up in the treasury. The circulating
medium in use among the people is three—
fourths paper, the largest volume being in
greenbacks, with silver certificates next,
then national bank notes, then gold certifi-
cates. But we would not be doing gold
justice if we did not say that there was
more goldin circulation than any one kind
of paper.—\Vashington Critic.
A Preacher with Fads.
There is a church over on the East Side
which is pointed out as Plymouth Congre-
gational. The man who is showing you
about Milwaukee will stand you up in
front of this edifice and say:
“Look at that. That’s Plymouth Con-
gregational church. The name of the pas—
tor is Mr. Titsworth. I suppose there was
a time when Dr. Titsworth would have
been mobbed if he had done what he is
doing now. He has a little theatre in the
basement of the church. It is built just
like a theatre. On this stage he encourages
private theatricals—for the glory of God.
Then he has a gymnasium back of that.
He believes in giving his membership all
of the attractions, but he insists that all
must be done with an eye single to the
glory of God. You can see his congregation
swinging Indian clubs and jumping over
wooden horses almost every afternoon after
certain hours. Mr. Titsworth goes further.
He believes that if a man will bring a deck
of cards into the church and play old sledge
or any other game in the pew, so long as
he plays it in a Christian spirit and for the
glory of the cause, it is all right.”—Cor.
Chicago Tribune.
A New Fish Story.
\Vriting of trout reminds me that genial
“Billy” Florence has been telling another
fish story, and this time caught a tartar.
It was at the Fifth Avenue hotel, where he
lives, and there was quite a group around,
including Mr. Cooper, the Mexican onyx
minc owner, when Mr. Florence gravely
told about going afishing and catching a
fish that weighed 500 pounds. The onyx
man’s eyes twinkled like stars as the story
was concluded, and to Mr. Florence’s in-
quiry whether or not he couldn’t tell a fish
story, too, he replied:
“You bet I can. \Vhy, I went afishing
once and caught a ’possum that weighed
000 pounds. lie was the biggest”
“But hold on,” put in Mr. Florence,
“what’s that got to do with fish?”
“Eh? Oh, yes. W'ell, you see we weighed
him on scales, and you must admit scales
have something to do with fish, and then
as he was a ’possum we set him to telling
stories to suckers—suckers are fish, ch?”
Florence gasped for breath and owned
up that ho was defeated—New York Press.
“'anted It Right Away.
A 5-year-old miss at Houlton has been
teasing for a party. The other day she
succeeded in getting her mother’s consent
and went off perfectly contented. Nothing
more was seen of Dora until some time
later, when she marched into her father’s
home followed by nineteen other young
ladies of the same age, all ready for the
party. The mother was surprised, but
made the best of the situation andcntcr-
tained the unexpected visitors to the best
of her ability.-—Lewiston Journal. '
blight Have Gone Further.
“I think the poet might have gone fur-
ther, and said that not/only do we not wed
those whom first we love, butneither do
we marry thosewhom‘most we love.”
“What’s the application?”
“Because most people, if they wedded
those whom most they loved, would have
to marry themselves.” — Philadelphia
Times.
Youthful Yearnings.
Stern Parent—Still complaining of your
work, after two or three holidays? What
on’earthdo you want?
Boy.—I want to be let go and kept at it.
——Chicago Times.
Hiram Roundtree, of Chehalis, Wash, .
recently killed a cougar 9 feet 5 inches in:
length. He is the champion hunter of his
section.
Q How A GIRL oUTDID A PAWNBROKEI-‘l.
'It was this way: My friend Ada showed
_ ness,’ ” said Dr. Alan McLanc, Hamilton,
stones, and similar objects, but sufficiently
She ' Looked Frightened and Received
3150 for a Bogus Ruby Pendant.
“I feel awfully ashamed of it now,” said
ademure little brown eyed woman, “he-
Cause the pawnman was real good to me.
me a pendant, a circle of beautiful small
White diamonds about a ruby that glowed
like a flaming red heart.‘ It had fire enough
to melt a rock. Ada said it was a shame
that the ruby 1 'aS not genuine, because it
made the pendant of no value to her.
“ ‘I don’t care,’ said I; ‘it looks so much
like a real stone that I do not believe any
one could tell that it is bogus. Why, ‘
see, there is even a little flaw in it, just as
you often find in rubies.’ But Ada said as
it was not genuine the pendant was of no
value to her, unless she had the diamonds
set over.
“ ‘Why not pa‘. 'n it?’ said I.
“ ‘I couldn’t,’ said she. ‘I’d be fright-
cned to death. Besides, how do you do it?’
“ ‘Oh, just go in and ask him how much
he’ll give on it,’ said I, though I had never
been near a pawn shop. I was in too deep-
ly to expose my ignorance now.
“ ‘Would you dare do it?’ said she.
“ ‘Certainly!’ I replied bravely. .
“ ‘\Vill you do it for me, dear?’
“Now, that took my breath away. To
put my friend up to mischief was one
thing, but to be put up to it myself was
another. However, I could not admit I
was afraid new.
“ ‘Ye-cs,’ I said, half heartcdly.
“She made me start at once. We went
down town, and while she waited in a
store I climbed the stairs to the office of a
fashionable broker with my heart beating
until I was nearly suffocated. I sat down
in the private office, and with a face as
long as the statue of misery, I handed out
that pendant.
“ ‘How much?’ said the man.
“ ‘I don’t know,’ I replied.
“He disappeared, then came back and
said ‘8150.’
“Then I knew he thought the ruby real,
as I had expected him to do, and the pen-
dant therefore worth about $600; but the
sum offered was about double the real
value of the pendant, so I looked sorrow-
fully at the gem for a moment and then
said:
“ ‘Can you do no better for me?’
“ ‘Nopc,’ said .10.
“One more long look at that memento of
better days, and then I said, in a voice suf-
fused with tears:
“ ‘I’ll take it.’
“The broker had been watching me
closely, and I think he was moved by my
apparent distress, which my fright helped
me to assume, for when he brought me
the ticket and money he said in the gen-
tlest way:
“ ‘My dear lady, if you wish to redeem
this at any time, send us word and we’ll
send it to you and spare you the pain of
coming here.’ He was so kind that I’m
sorry I cheated him, even if he did want a
8600 pendant for $150.”
The reporter related this story to a repu—
table Maiden lane jewelry manufacturer.
He said that the secret of the girl’s success
lay partly in the fact that the bogus jewel
had a flaw in it, and that it was set with
superior, if small, diamonds, but chiefly in
the bearing of the girl. She showed to his
eye that she was not accustomed to the air
of a pawnshop, and so he was more easily
deceived.—Jewelers’ Weekly.
Marriage and Health.
A noted Norwegian statistician, Professor
A. N. Klaer, has recently been making a
very interesting study in relation to the
mortality of the married and unmarried.
The result of his.inquiry shows that during
the twelfth and thirteenth year of exist-
ence the death rate of girls stands only
slightly higher than that of boys of about
the same age. From the sixteenth year on
the death rate of males increases, until at the
age of 19 or 20 it is more than double that
of the five previous years. This marked
rise of the death rate, in which consump-
tion is an important factor, continues until
the twenty-third year, when it diminishes.
This clearly marked period of decrease in
the death rate of young Norwegian men 'is
also noticeable in other nationalities, but
not to so great an extent.
Upon a careful examination into the
cause of this variation of the death rate
among men of various nations, he finds
that it occurs at a period when gradually
they enter in increasing numbers-the mar-
ried state. As will be seen from the Nor-
wegian and Swedish mortality tables, the
death rate of married men at the period re-
ferred to is decidedly less than that of the
unmarried. Although the death rate of
married and unmarried males is constantly
advancing, there is no question that the
entry of so large a proportion of the male
population into the more favorable condi-
tions of life which the married state pre-
sents exercises a decided beneficial effect on
the ratio—Philadelphia Press.
Diamonds in Brazil.
Diamonds were first found in Brazil near
the Jequitinhonha river, in Minus Geraes,
which then received the name of Diaman-
tina‘. The story goes that the supposed
white pebbles had long previously been
noticed by the gold washers, but their
value was not dreamed of. It is said that
the Indians used them ina game which
had some resemblance to dice throwing,
and that the children of the miners em—
ployed them as “jacks,” a game practiced
by the youth of all countries. ’6 is certain
that diamonds were first discovered in gold
washings near Diamantina, and that they
are to this day found in cascalho, which
also contains gold. The detection of the
precious character of the before despised
“white pebbles” was due to a Portuguese
miner who had been in India and had
there seen diamonds in the rough. “hen.
the news reached Portugal the crown im-
mediately took measures to monopolize
the rcgion.—chclcrs’ W'eekly.
Elevator Illness.
But any leading alienist of this city will
affirm, to an intelligent questioner, the
truth of the proposition that climbing
stairs results in an enormous aggregate of
feminine woe and that scurrying in ele-
vators to dizzy heights, produces in many.
men a temporary mental unsettlement.
“ I have observed cases of ‘ elevator dizzi—
“which assumed distressing features and
required prompt treatment, Many men
when an elevator shoots Suddenly up are
conscious of a mental bewilderment which,
while speedily disappearing, might intime
have serious effects. The aggravated'cases
to which I referred were those of elevator
boys, who were finally obliged to seek
other work.”—New York Herald.
Arecent invention consists of afenden
for street railway cars ran by electricity;
It, presents a platformgapacious enou'ghtcfi
receive a. victim so unfortunate as ‘ to be;
caught upon thetrackgbefore a car. Atda
slope before it is a heavx’four ply rubber
belting, pliable enoughdio pass over paving
rigid to prevent an arm. or leg, from being,
drawn trader the fender, _
\._.
STA.TEMENT
OF
HE MUTUAL
Ll
lNSUHANEl BUMPANY.
OF NEW YORK.
RICHARD A. McCURDY, President.
For the Year Ending December 3lst, 1889:
' ASSETS, - ~ -
Increase in 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 \Vritten in 1889,
Increase over 1888, . . . .
$l36,40l .328 02
$10,319,174 46
$9,657,248 44
$1,717,184 81
331,119,019 62
$4,903,087 10
315,200,608 38
$473,058 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
THE ASSETS ARE INVESTED AS FOLLOWS :
Real Estate and Bond and Mortgage Loans,
United States Bonds and other Securities,
Loans on Collateral Securities,
Cash in Banks and Trust Companies at interest, . . . .
Interest accrued, Premiums deferred and in transit, etc,
$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
be correct.
A. N. WATERHOUSE, Auditor.
From the Surplus above stated a. dividend will be apportioned as usual.
Risks Risks
Year. Assumed.
Outstanding.
Surplus.
1884. . . . 55 34,681,420. . . $351,789,285. . . .8103,876,178.51. . . 84,743,771
1885. . . .
1886 . . . . 56,832,719. . . . 393,809,203. . . .
1887 . . . . 69,457,468. . . . 427,628,933. . . .
1888. . . . 103,214,261 . . . . 482,125,184. . . .
1889 ' ' ‘ ' 151,602,483. . . . 565,949,934. _. . .
NEW YORK, January 29th, 1890.
46,507,139. . . . 368,981,441. . . . 108,908,967.51. . . . 5,012,634
114,181,963.24. . . . 5,643,568
118,806,851.88 . . . . 6,294,442
126,082,153.56 . . . . 7,940,063
Board of
Samuel F. Sprouls.
Lucius Robinson,
Samuel D. Babcock.
George S. Coe,
Richard A. McCurdy,
James C. Holden, ‘
Herman C. 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, ,
Trustees :
S. VanRensselaer Cm‘zon,
Charles R. Henderson,
George Bliss,
Rufus W. Peckham,
J. Hobart Herrick,
IVm. P. Dixon,
Robert A. Grannis,
Nicholas C. Miller,
Henry H. Rogers,
Jno, W’. Auchincloss.
Theodore Morford.
William Babcock,
Preston B. Plumb,
\Vilham D. VVashburn,
Stuyvesant Fish,
Augustus D. Juilliarcl,
Charles E. Miller,
James \V. Husted.
ROBERT A. GRANNIS, Vice-President.
ISAAC F. LLOYD, 2d Vice President. WILLIAM J. EASTON, Secretary.
A. N. WATERHOUSE, Auditor.
FREDERICK SCHRODER, Asst. qecretary.
EMORY MCCLINTOCK, LL.D., F. I. A. Actuary.
JOHN TATLOCK, J 3., Asst. Actuary. CHARLES B. PERRY, 2d Asst. Actuary;
FREDERIC CROMWELL, Treasurer.
JOHN A. FON DA, Assistant Treasurer.
WILLIAM P. SANDS, Cashier.
EDWARD. P. HOLDEN, Assistant Cashier.
WILLIAM G. DAVIES, Solicitor.
WILLIAM W. RICHARDS, Comptroller.
MEDICAL ,Dmnc'rons.
GUSTAVUS .S. WINSTON, M. D:
WALTER R. GILLETT, M. D”
E. J. MARSH, M. D,
'41. 11.01119. Agent, Norwalk, om.
136,401,328.02. . . . 6,557,248.
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Norwalk Chronicler