The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1889-05-08
AN ODD PHILANTHROPIST.
INCoNGRUoUs LIFE OF ISAIAH
". WILLIAMSON

lnCOngtulJy IN MS 0uJuIB WHlCH uluuO ~
at once surprising and estimable, while
in his eccentricities, his habits and his
tenacious pursuit of wealth made up
Just such parsonage as Dickens would
have delighted in portraying. His life
properly consisted of two eras, one COW
ering the first thirty-fve years, when he
came country bred young man, and cut
out by hard work fortune of 5000, 600
an era when he was eligible in society
circles around whom the fair moths tiut-
tered, when his liberality and his young
aspirations carried him through tour of
Europe, and when it was believed he
would settle down into the comfort of
domestic life and enjoy the charming
existence of unhampered bachelorhood.
The second and the longest era, now
closed by death, was that of a money
spinner, under whose magic touch every
thing turned into gold until his estate
ran into dozen of millions. All the
traits of prodigality, all the attention
and adornment, all the ambition to
shine in the social arena disappeared,
and by a grand transformation the man
became a recluse, imposing upon him
self the simplest fare, adjuriug all his
former haunts and concentrating all his
energies upon the single work of aug
menting his already vast fortune. As
an instance of the queer blending of the
penurions and the human traits of his
character, it may be mentioned that once
when he had made his dinner upon
glass of beer and two crackers, and at
cost of five cents, he went directly to his
office and wrote out check for $4,000
to aid a struggling charity. In ten
years his gifts to public institutions
and each made to meet some pressing
necd-amounted to $780, 600. 1t is
further indication Of his self reliance,
and the simplicity Of all his business
operations, that he never had lawyer
and never was involved, individually, in
law case.
About noon it was his invariable rule
to go into saloon and call fosa glass of
beer. He would then take his position
near the box of crackers that were set out
for lunch, and would eat several of them.
lie never drank up the beer, and it is the
supposition that he frequentled the saloon
for the lunch, since the crackers con-
stituted his dinner and cost him five
cents. He was a man who would de-
prive himself of dinner such as the
then 90 out and give away thousands of
dollars to some deserving charity for the
benefit of mankind. When he became
so feeble that he was obliged to set up a
carriage he ceased drinking beer and
took to spirits, always sending his coach
man into the saloon for punch about
noon.
For many years Mr.. Williamson went
to Mrs. Conant's little establishment. at
the corner of Exchange place and Carter
street, to have his clothes repaired, his
socks darned and his underclothing
patched. Mrs. Conant has good many
customers, but none, she says, like the
old millionaire. "When he would bring
his clothes to be overhauled," she says,
''they were ready to drop off of him, and
Just hung together. 1t was an awful
job to fix them up. His underclothes
he wore until there was no more wear in
them and they could be mended no
further. When he would bring me his
socks to be darned he would always
bring along the yarn to do it with, and
would want that counted in in the bill.
See here, pve got some Of his old yarn
yet" and Mrs. Conant, diving into box,
produced an envelope with Mr.. William
sons address upon it, aud which con-
tanned a small quantity of cotton yarn.
Many stories of his frugality are told.
Several summers Mr.. williamson spent
at Bryn Mawr When he first went
there he was daily rider in the coacl
that ran between the station and hotel.
The fare was five cents, but the old
gentlmau had no idea that fare was
charged. When his bill was presented
he found this item included "Coach
fare, $1.20." The next morning it
rained "great snakes" but Mr. William
son braved the elements and walked to
the station. He never afterward entered
the coach. Each week while at the
hotel he carried his soiled clothes to the
city done up iG a newspaper, placing
the bundle under his arm. He was en-.
abled by this arrangement to save twenty
five cents, the difference in the rates of
the hotel laundry and that of an unpre-
tentious concern few blocks from the
Broad Street Station. Mr.. Williamson
was tobacco chewer all his life-his
favorite being the hard kind. 1t was
really a sight to watch him take ga
chew" lie kept the tobacco in three
envelopes, and while biting off chew
would hold the second envelope open TO
catch any d!ibs that would fall from his
mouth, his hand being shaky and un-
steady. In the third envelope he would
deposit the discarded cud, to be subse-
quently worked over. Mr.. Williamson
never permitted his tobacco bill TO ex-
Ceed five cents a week.
Another peculiarity of his was that he
would never give money TO a beggar
This was his inheXible rule.
In his prime Mr.. Williamson passed
for a handsome man. His face was
small, eyes of the black, piercing kind,
aud of great intelligence. His ears were
large and his mouth compressed, denot
ing tirmness. He stood about five feet
five inches and was as spare rs a grey
hound. His features were regular and
clean cut and his face was hairless. lie
always wore very long coat, which was
always shabby, greasy and threadbare.
There are few men living who ever saw
]. Y. Williamson with new suit on his
back. lie was bent with age and hls
command over his step uncertain. Al
antiquated blue cotton umbrella was his
constant companion, although he was
not Paul pry in thiS respect. lie had
no regard for his personal appearance,
and this arose from his disinclination to
spend cent more upon himself than
was absolutely necessary. He often
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