The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-06-09

stolen or wasted. He went about his farm clad in mean and dirty clothes, and refused to spend money to buy new ones. After life of selfshness and meanness he died in March, 1902, leaving property estimated at S1 ,100,- 900. His diamonds alone were worth $150, ,000, while his solid silver plate weighed over 700 pounds.
 But exceeding by far the example of John Elves is that of Daniel Dan- cer, whose life is the most striking example, perhaps, in all history, of the unsuitable thirst for gold. His father died and left him, together with sis- ter, comfortable fortune. Dancer and his sister lived in miserable hut near Harrow, in Middlesex, England. Their fare consisted of piece of cheap beef and fourteen hard dumplings boiled on Sunday, and this lasted them the rest of the week. The pair dressed ill rags, and when the sister was dying from cold and starvation, her brother refused to summon medical aid, on the ground that he could not spend his money for medicine, because if the told girl" was going to die the doctors couldn't save her anyhow. Dancer WIS too miserly to provide soap and towels for himself.
 He would wash in neighboring pool and lie out in the sun until he was dried. His clothes, mass of patches, were held up by belt of twisted hay, and his whole appear ance was that of abject misery. Dan- cer, on his rambles, never returned empty handed. He would gather up the bones in the village streets and lanes, bring them home, and after picking them clean himself, would crack them and feed them to his dog. Once neighbors complained that his dog worried and killed their sheep, and for fear that he would have to pay for future depredations, he took the dog to blacksmith's, where he had all the poor brute's teeth broken off to prevent further recurrence of the trouble. He mended his own shoes, and wore one hat continuously for thirteen years.
 When he lay on his dying bed his only garment was an old sack. When remonstrated with he said that he came into the world without shirt, and he would go out of it that way. When visitor suggested that he have a pillow for his head, he ordered his only servant, whose weekly wages were thirty cents, to bring him wisp of hay, which he used as pillow till his death, few days later. He left an estate valued at $25,00O, amply sufficient for all his needs during his lifetime, haG he SO desired. The money, in odd sums, was hidden in old rags, nailed down to the under part of the manager floor in his miserable cow shed, stuck in chinks and openings in the chimney, and over $10,000 was found hidden in the manure pile, where it had lain for years.
 That a man who expended during his life and bequeathed to public in stitutions on his death over $1 ,OOO,- 900, should be called miser, seems a paradox, and yet such was Thomas Guy, the founder of the famous Guys Hospital, London, and man whose memory will be cherished for hun dreds of years to come.
 Thomas Guy was the son of coal dealer in Horselydown. He began life with capital of 100 pounds as a bookseller. By fortunate investments in the year 1720 he amassed an im-
 mense fortune, mainly through what was known as South Sea stock. His whole life was marked by penuri-
 ousness that strangely comported with his lavish public gifts. He invariably ate his meals alone, using an old news , paper as a tablecloth. On winter nights he would burn the half of one candla and shiver over 8 few sticks o1 wood in brick stove. It was of Guy that the famous story is told how one Hopkins called upon him to get les. son in the art of saving. It was night and Guy was seated at plain table
 with half-penny candle.
 } "Is that all you came about?" saiG Guy, after his visitor was seated "why, then we can talk the matter over in the dark" and he deliberately extinguished the feeble flame.
 With all his record of personal meanness and penurious habits, the
 hospital that bears his name will ever f perpetuate his memory. He spent al. most $100,000 in building it, and then left it endowed with nearly $1, 100, ,O0C at his death. He left $2,000 to the governors of Christ's hospital perpet- ually to care for four poor children oi London, and $5,000 for releasing four
 prisoners in the city and the counties of Middlesex and Surrey.
 Thomas Guy was never married. l I have been afflicted with catarrh for twenty years. It became chronic and there was constant drop ping of mucous matter, It extended