The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1883-03-21
Thurlow Weed at Home.

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world has long had intimate knowl-
edge, but Thurlow Weed, the practical
philanthropist, was comparatively un.
known even to his most intimate asso-
ciates. Whatever may have been true
of his earlier and more active days,
when he was the power behind the
throne, and one of the most potent of
all agencies in public affairs, il is GER
tain that the last two decades of his
life were crowded with kindly deeds.
His home in West Twelfth street, New
York city, was the resort of the strick-
en- in purse and spirit, no less than the
Mecca of aspiring politicians. Years
ago-and for years-there was a sight
to be witnessed every Saturday after
noon in front of The Twelfth street
home not to be seen anywhere else in
New York. 1t was a score or so of
little girls, all of cleanly appearance,
but all giving evidence of poverty in
their dress, who were weekly appli-
cants for his bounty, and no one of
whom ever went away from his door
empty-handed. Once when commit
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urday afternoon with acarriage, to re-
quest his attendance at the first recep-
tion of the New York Press club, a
throng of these little ones
were before his door. Mr..
Weed expressed the pleasure
it would give him to meet the work.
mg journalists of the city, or as he ex-
pressed it, "the boys in the harness I"
but, he added, ''you must wait until
feed my chickens" After the chill
dren had been loaded with his gifts, he
proceeded to the rooms of the Press
club, where, by the way, he gave some
good advice to those who were only
enteringupon the road he had traversed
to its end. He frankly admitted that
day, as he always did in his declining
years, the great changes which had
been wrought in journalism since he
was an active member of the profess
sion. No man knew better than he in
his later years that the newspaper had
become the vehicle of information
rather than of opinions. AS he once
tersely put it, 'the world don't care
what an editor thinks about a fact.
but it does care great deal for the
fact itself"
Yet there was never a more omniv-
orous reader Of newspapers, although
latterly he used the eyes of another in .
stead of his own, and usually those of
the daughter who devoted her life to
him. 1t was not only political news
that claimed and obtained his atten-
tion, but all the record of events, great
and small. that combine to make up
the daily journal. The knowledge
of thAs fact and of the benevolence of
his character came to the acknowledge of
a reporter for daily paper in pc
culiar way some years ago. The re-
porter had been detailed to a case of
distress which had been reported to
the office. In the performance of this
duty he encountered one of those pic
lures of misery which can only be seen
in a great city of startling contrasts
like New York. 1t was a bitterly cold
night in the latter part of November,
and in a room on the top floor of an
East side tenement-house, in which
there was neither fire nor food and no
furniture save two remnants of chairs,
a woman was found with two little
children. The next morning descrip-
tion! of the Iscene was given in the
newspaper, together with short state
ment Of the cause of her misfor-
tunes. That afternoon a second call
was made for the purpose of giving
her a small amount which
some charitable person had sent to the
office for her relief, and she was then
found in comparative comfort. A
stove had made its appearance, there
was a supply of coal, the closet had
been filed with provisions, and mother
and children had been provided with
stout shoes and warm stockings. The
woman gave description of her
benefactor so full and correct that the
reporter had no difficulty in recogniz-
ing Mr.. Weed. When that afternoon
inquiry was made of him as to the fact.
Mr.. Weed admitted that he had "helped
the women little" but exacted a
promise that no mention should be
made in the newspapers of the cir
cumstance; nor has the incident ever
been published until now. This case
has not been mentioned in such detail
because it was at all an anomaly in the
life of the veteran journalist, but
rather as typical of the man in that
aspect of which the world knows so
little.-HaTper'S Magazine.