Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 December 1879 — Wanted to Die Rich. [ARTICLE]

Wanted to Die Rich.

ostotj Com lei. Lionel Lawson, writes M. Labou chere, whose death took place las week, was a cognate personage in Lon don, aud was a singular instance of the good luck that attends, some persons through life. He was born witheither no fortune or with a very small one and his real name was' Levy. Why and when he altered it to Lawson I never heard, but some five and twenty years ago be had establi bed a prosperous ink manufactory in Paris, and was known to his friends as “Ihkerman Lawson.” At that time the penny London press did not exist. The first attempt In this direction was made by Colonel Sleigh, who brought out a of one sheet, called the Daily Telegraph. It was printed by a printer in a small way of the name of Levy, who was a brother of Lawson.

Ylmi ♦aw tfid um printer toe k ver the paper for jrhat was doe to a fund of which he waa a trustee. In consideration of this advance it was agreed tliat *»• thepoesib.’e K?* 18 ®**** undertaking. Still the Daily Telegraph did not prosper, and was obliged to obteuTfurther funds ty 8 filing a share to a publican called Mo a, who owned a pot-house in the neighborhood of the printing office. The new supply of fiinds was nearly exhausted wnenthe paper duty waa taken off, and then theDajty TelCgtnph entered Into the career which has been so financially successful. Lawson never Interfered with the management of the paper, but left this entirely in the hands of his brother and hte nephew, contenting himself with the bargain by which he received half the annual profits. With these pro flto he bought houses and securities. Whatever he touched turned to gold. If he purchased real estate, it at onoe became more valuable* if he bought he most depreciated of securities they were certain to rise in the market. The amount, of money of which he died possessed must have been something enormous. Although not a genius, he was a shrewd and clever man, and he was a very pleasant companion. I used to know him very well, and although I. never concealed from him my low opinion of the Daily Telegraph as an organ of public opinion, we were always the beet of friends. He cannot be said to have been sordidly stingy, for he never denied himself the beet ol everything, and I really believe that had I told him that £5 would have saved my life he would have given me that sum. But hto mania was to die an exceedingly rich man. I remember that he once came to me to propose that a combination should be entered into between the London papers to orce the First Lord of the Admiralty to take them “out and out,” and not on “sale 4rd return.*’ “But surely, my good friend,” I said, “you make more money already than you know how to spend.” “That” he replied, “to not tue question. There are people who say that if only I live long enough, I shall die the richest commoner in England, but if Smith does not accept the fair risks of trade, he will die richer than me.” I looked at him to see if he were joking, but not at all. H had almost tears in hto eyes at the thought of this possibility. Of death he always had the greatest dread, not from any abstract thought of what might occur to him in another world, but because the grave would bring accumulation to an end. I used sometimes to look at him sadly. Seeing my eyes fixed on him, he would become nervous, and ask me what was the matter? “You are not looking well,” I would say. The blood would at once rush to hto fece. “Look at yourself in a glass,” I would continue, “you are flushed.” When he perceived that this was true, his anxiety would become great, and he would hurry home to put himself in the hands of a physician.