The Red Cloud chief., 1874-03-12
Nathan Rothschild, OF London.

The high priest of the Exchange was
not happy even in the midst of his over
flowing Golfers. Naturally enough, he
had few friends and numberless ne-
mics. In his later years he suffered
from constant dread of assassination.
He was always receiving threatening
letters, declaring that his life depended
on his sending certain sums o money to
certain addresses. He scented murder
in every breeze-suspected poison III
every cup. IL sleep, he had nightmare
visions Of crouching things IN waking
hours, he started at every unexpected
noise.
One morning two strangers were an
nounced AS having important business
with the banker, and they we're shown
into his private Office. He bowed to
them and inquired the nature of their
negotiation. They bowed and said
nothing. but advpced toward him,
thrusting their fingers ~nervously into
| their pockets. Rothschiids alarm WIS
| excited ut once. They must be scare
| ing for concealed weapons their beard
| ed faces made it clear to his excited
| fancy that they were homicidal rufians.
He retreated in terror behind a large
| desk, seized q ponderous ledger, hurled
| it at their heads, and screamed Muir
der 7" at>f-ie Top Of his voice. A small
army of clerks poured into the room and
laid violent hands on the strangers, who
proved to be wealthy Polish bankers
bringing letters of introduction to the
physically timidj lion of loans. En-
barrassed by his auriferously august
presence-what is there in a breathing
money-bag capable Of inspiring awe9-
they forgot their speech and then CON-
mon GOODNESS Of conduct. They were
nearly as much terrified AS the re-
nowned Israelite /; and as it WAS their
initial visit to England, they imagined
at first that all foreigners were deemed
robbers and desperadoes until the con-
trary was established.
The wretchedly rich Nathan never
went ont alone after dark, never entered
an unlighted room, had servants within
call of his bed-chamber, and slept with
loaded pistols under his pillow.
A fellow-FrankfOrter, dining with
him one evening, and observing the
luxury of his household, remarked,
"You must be happy, baron, with the
power to crafty every wish"
Happy, indeed !" was the response.
"Do you think it happiness to be
haunted always by a dread of murder
to have your appetite Tor breakfast
sharpened by a threat to stab you to
the heart unless you enclose a thou
sand guineas to some unknown vii
lain ?"
On one occasion, when the great
financier had been to an evening party,
and had gotten into his carriage to go
home, a friend wishing to make an APP
pointment, stepped out to speak
to him. The timorous banker mistook
his familiar friend for a h~ighwayman,
and thrust a pistol out of the carriage
window, with his favorite cry Of "Mur-
der !" before he could be acquainted
with the situation.
As Rothschild grew richer and older
his fears increased. He became almost
o monomaniac on the subject Of assas-
sination, and many of his relatiySSss-
thogy l6fo5ness y serious dangernehen-
sions. Most Of the menacing messages
were unquestionab.y sent him by his
enemies, with whom he was plentifully
supplied. Conscious of his weakness,
they revenged themselves upon him by
inspiring him with baseiess terrors. He
was repeatedly told SO. but he could not
be induced to believe that he did not
dwell in an atmosphere OF poisons. pom
iards and pistols. -Iidrper's Magazine.