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What Is Life Insurance Everybody knows that the business of life insurance exists; that the insured pays certain amount to maintain his life insurance; that life insurance pays money at death. But to most the rest is a mystery. What does it mean? Where did it come from? How does it work? What does it do? There is romance in the story of life insurance, and today it stands out as one of the world's great business. All living things are exposed to the hazards of injury and destruction. Nature has provided the lower forms with means of protection and repair. In the case of mankind, however, the automatic protection processes of nature do nor avail. For man, through the complexities of his civilization, has enlarged the hazards to which he is exposed, and man himself has had to devise the remedy. Man not the power to know in advance when he will be visited by the misfortunes of fires or accident or dissability or premature death. Nor can he as an individual take any measures that will effectively prevent the occurence of these hazards. However, led by his instincts of protection and preservation of self and family and property, man has learned to prepare against these losses, and minimize their effect should they occur. The instrument devised by man to meet these contingencies is known as insurance. It is based on the conception than a number of individuals exposed to the same type of risks can by their several contributions accumulate a fund which shall be used to offset the losses encountered by those few who meet misfortune under that risk. That risk of each becomes the risk of all. The practice of insurance goes far back into the ages. Marine insurance developed first, fire insurance followed, and in the year of 1680, the first fire insurance company was formed. II. History of Life Insurance. Life insurance as we know it today, is a product of advancing civilization. Protection and defense of his cave borne was a primitive instinct of the cave men. Then, as civilization advance with the development of the family unit and the tribe and the nation to the complex of civilization of modern times, this same instinct of protection and preservation persisted and expanded. Community protection and cooperation became more and more a factor in life. Life insurance has been well defined " as consisting of a contract, whereby a stipulated sum of money called the rate or premium, one party (the insurer) agrees to pay the other (the insured,) or his beneficiary, a fixed sum upon the happening of death or some other specified event." The first life insurance contract of which there is a record was written by a group of marine insurance underwriters as a pure simple gambling proposition. The word "underwriter" used now in the insurance field defining any one securing applications for any kind of insurance is dated back to those early days of insurance gambling, The word or the term found its origin in the fact that, when a group of fellows (insurers agreed to accept a certain part of a risk, the conditions of the risk were specified, and than each man wrote his name under the contract and opposite his signature he wrote the portion of the risk he assumed. First so called life insurance contract was written on June 18. 1553 when a group of marine underwriters in London stepped out of their practice of insuring marine risks and entered into a contract to insure the life of one William Gibbons in the sum of 400 pounds. The contract was for 12 months (Todays pure simple term insurance) No mention is made in the contract of age or physical condition. Gibbons died on May 24th 1584 (Nearly a year later) and the claim was paid. No mention is made of the amount of premium Gib-
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bons paid to the underwriters. From that time on similar examples are found in records of insurance history. There was no attempt at scientific -rate making, there were no mortality tables, no physical examination no law of averages. The contract was simply a gambling proposition. The first mortality tables were worked out by the astronomer Halley, based on the study of the town records of Breslaw, Germany in 1693. Crude scales of graded rates followed, errors were made, companies failed, but gradually actuarial science developed to a basis of accuracy and safety. In 1699 we find the first recorded attempt at associated life insurance when the "Assurance for Widows and Orphans" was formed in London. It worked out some basis for averages because 2000 healty men under 55 years of age were required to join before it became effective; and it met its claims. Within the next 50 years, about 50 similar companies were organized with various success. There were no graded rates of contributions because there was no way of estimating expectancy of life. The oldest British life insurance organization that is in existence today is the Equitable Assurance Society of London. It commenced operation in 1762 and operated on modern conceptions of life insurance. Its policies were for definite amounts, and the rates were graded according to age. ) e 4, •
What a Visitor to The Wren's Nest Sees A small admission fee is charged to visit the Wren's Nest. This money goes to the upkeep of the home. The quaint old house, with its low drooping eaves and many gables, stands on a terraced eminence, some distance back from Gordon St. A broad walk, bordered in Spring with daffodils, leads up to the door. At the foot of the steps stands a beautiful tulip-poplar tree. In the glow of a summer sunset, as Mr. Harris and his good wife stood beneath this tree, he remarked "When I die, don't build a monument of bronze or stone to stand in the dust and rain, let this tree be my memorial;" and so according to his own wish, the beautiful tree stands like a sentinel, for his memorial. On this tree is a handsome bronze marker, placed by the Woman's Club of Peoria, Ill. This gift was made through the instrumentality of a mother, whose son was gassed in the World War. He suffered a lapse of memory. Every effort of the most skilled physicians failed to arouse him from his apathy, until one day the reading of a Remus story brought a flood of memories, and he was finally restored to health. The "rabbit-trail" is the beautiful drive through the grounds, and the wisteria arbor makes a lavender symphony in the spring time, that is the admiration of all passersby. The "Thimber-finger well," with its cooling shade and restful seat, invites the visitors, and even "Brer Rabit's briar-patch is seen in the distant corner of the grounds. The negro cabin still stands at the end of the picturesque foot path, and many of the flowers Mr. and Mrs. Harris planted are still living and blooming in the gardens. One day Mr. Burroughs, the great naturalist, came to pay homage at the shrine of Uncle Remus, and high among the boughs of the Memorial he placed a bird box for Mother Wren and her family. Now entering the home, we first see the Vacant Chair on the veranda, the high-back comfortable easy rocker where the master was wont to rest and listen to his feathered friends in the nearby trees. Entering the lobby we see the bust of Mr. Harris, presented by Mr. Huggins, and on the wall in the reception hall is seen the life size portrait of Mrs. A. McD. Wilson, first president of the Uncle Remus Memorial Association. The quaint little wall clock, a Seth Thomas, which marked the passing hours of the Harris
Ve stiedu, dne 9. dubna 1947. family, still drones its sleepy tick-took on the stairs. The visitor is asked to write his name in the big register that rests on the table in the Harris' library, where Uncle Remus himself sat and wrote those wonderful stories that have delighted the world. On the walls are seen the family portraits. Mrs. Harris, the wife of Joel Chandler Harris, passed away October 28, 1938. For 15 years she was an invalid, residing in Atlanta with her daughter, Mrs. Edwin Camp. Two interesting group pictures are seen, one of Mr. Harris and Andrew Carnegie who made Mr. Harris a visit, and one of James Whitcomb Riley. Mr. Riley spent two weeks at the Wren's Nest with Uncle Remus, The Harrises called him "Marse Jeems," and this visit was said to have been like the romp of two school boys. Over the mantel hangs a bronze bas-relief of Mr. Harris, made by Mr. Roger Noble Burnham, and presented by himself and his wife, to the Association. This exquisite piece of workmanship is valued at $3,000.00. An autographed photograph of the Roosevelt family is a most interesting picture, also a pen and ink sketch of Brer Rabbit, by A. B. Frost. In the show case are seen the Bible that belonged to Mr. Harris' mother, and the Testament she gave to him, the hatchet he played with as a child, and the glass he drank from in his last illness, his watch-charm, and his fountain pen and lucky left hind foot of the rabbit. This was a particularly highly prized possession. He found it in a pocketbook with some money. He advertised that he would be glad to return the money and the pocketbook to the owner, but was claiming the rabbit foot as his reward. A copy of "Scholars Composition" and "Lesson in Composition" boost themselves as having loaned their own yellow pages in storing knowledge into the youthful head of Joel Chandler Harris. On the fly leaf of one of these text books is his autograph, written in the flowing easy hand of the youthful scribe. In the book case are seen the first editions of all of Mr. Harris' books. This is said to be the only complete set of first copies in existence. Mr. Harris wrote 25 books and they have been translated into 17 different languages. As we stand at the gate which guards the portals of the memorial bedroom — we look on the bed where the mortal clay of Mr. Harris rested when his gentle spirit took its flight. We see his favorite chair by the window and nearby, his desk with his typewriter, his hat and glasses resting on it; while his cane leans against the window, and his umbrella hangs on the mantel. His tie and razor strap, military brushes and shaving brushes are all there. As we gaze on the quiet simplicity, we somehow seem to feel the nearness of that gentle spirit who was wont to read and write and live in this room. • 4 • ( AS YOU AREN'T The bearded hillbilly, in the big city for the first time, saw people stepping up on a weighing machine, putting pennies in it, standing motionless and retrieving pieces of carboard from the slot. Finally, he got up enough courage to step aboard himself. He dropped in. his penny and out popped a card with Van Johnson's picture. He studied it closely, then stared critically into the mirror of the machine. "Shucks," he said, turning to an onlooker, "this contraption don't take `sech a very good picture, does it?" ) • 4 • ( SLIGHTLY CONFUSED "Are you the judge of reprobates?" the ladv inquired. "I am the judge of probate," was t he answer. "Well, that's what I want I guess. You see, my husband died untested and left several little infidels, and I want to be their executionc,Pr i"