The Birmingham age-herald., 1905-11-25
From the New York World.

From the New York World.
 CONOMICAL in most of the affairs Gh) of life, Mrs. Hetty Robinson W Green, richest woman in the world, has at last become a spendthrift
 She yesterday threw away a year.
 The world thought she was 70. She is not. She Is T. She laughed about 1t hap pily-like a. girl It was the one joke of her natal day-yesterday.
 No friends thronged the mansion in Ho- boken, where Mrs. Green lives. None came to press her hand and say kind things to her-none save grocer's boy and a Hungarian who whistled up the tube to her dingy flat and asked her for 5000 to complete an education that was indeed inadequate--even to the point or not knowing what manner of woman the highest woman was.
 Alone, but for a dog, she arose, not as Mrs. Green, but as Mrs. Morton, in the S26 a month flat at No. 1203 Washington street. The Hobolxen elite call 1t "The Barracks" It was not yet light. Even the gray dawn that comes from across the river where Mrs. Greens golden stream flows was astir
 Walking a block Mrs. Morton" went to Burns grocery store. at Eleventh street and Washington. She ordered some ham and green tea and sugar. Then she started home.
 Returning-she perhaps recollected that 1t was her birthday--she ordered some crackers and fruit biscuits.
 John Van Twisd, the Janitor of "The Barracks" was putting out the ashes and chasing stray Hoboken dogs out Of the cellars. Mrs. Green had breakfast. She was her own guest.
 At o'clock .I1, famous black bonnet and the old cape were adjusted and Mrs. Morton" locked her lonely apart ment and started for the Barclay street ferry, where as Mrs. Green, the richest woman in the world. she was to direct the flow of millions from her office in the Chemical National bank.
 Here her secretary met her. Here the cashier and his assistant, their secretaries, office boys and private detectives waited upon her. At noon pretty nearly every one else went to lunch.
 It is not on recor that Mrs. Green ate any lunch. She attended two direc- tors meetings in the afternoon and at o'clock, alone, Mrs. Green started home. Swallowed up in the flow of toilers along Broadway, the richest woman was lost in the old lady in black.
 Mrs. Green went to bed at 8 o'clock by candle light, which she uses to save gas. She had reached her home by going through back alleys and entering the fiat house through the cellar.
 Mrs Green came to her present address two weeks ago. She has been tenant Tn the same house before as Mrs. George Dewey and as Mrs. Sarachan.
 As she went over the ferry, on her way home, Mrs Greens head was bent far forward, but her form was erect Her step was firm, her eyes, not unkindly, shone through the folds of black veil with a keenness that belied the years that had sped while this remarkable old woman was rolling up her millions with the pre- scision of machinery.
 Mrs. Green. finanoier, was left behind at the bank.
 If was Mrs. c. Morton who landed in Hoboken, unseen, unwelcomed. She board ed a Washington street car at the ferry entrance with many better dressed and more prosperous looking working women. She alighted near her home-the twenty sixth fiat in ''The Barracks''-and then