Posts Tagged ‘1842’

Shallow Water

December 19, 2012

1840s fashion men women

A HINT TO GIRLS.

An exchange paper says: “We have always considered it an unerring sign of innate vulgarity, when we hear ladies take particular pains to impress us with an idea of their ignorance of all domestic matters, save sewing lace, or weaving a net to enclose their delicate hands. — Ladies by some curious kind of hocus pocus, have got it into their heads that the best way to catch a husband is to show him how profoundly capable they are of doing nothing for his comfort. Frightening a piano into fits, or murdering the King’s French, may be good bait for some kinds of fish, but they must be of that kind usually found in shallow water. The surest way to secure a good husband, is to cultivate those accomplishments which make a good wife.

Wiskonsan Enquirer (Madison, Wisconsin) Oct 20, 1842

1840s couple

A ‘Grave Yard’ in the Wat’ry Deep

December 17, 2012

watery grave - Drowning

Image from University of Virginia

From the Albany Argus.

LINES,

Suggested by the following paragraph, taken from the Argus of October 7

“There is a place in the Mississippi where so many vessels have been wrecked, that it is called the ‘Grave Yard.'”

A ‘Grave Yard’ in the wat’ry deep — a home beneath the wave,
For they, the mourned, the loved, the lost, the youthful and the brave!
Oh, loving hearts have broken, and eye grown dim with weeping,
For the thousand forms that lie, in that unseen ‘Grave Yard’ sleeping.

A ‘Grave Yard’ — but above the dead selection sheds no tear,
No mourner’s footsteps tread the ground, no sighs are echoed here.
Affection’s hand can never bring, at pensive evening hour,
And place o’er some reposing form, love’ purest gilt — a flower.

Nor can it rear, with pious care, the costly marble stone,
In memory of the faded form, closed eye, and silent tongue;
Ah no! the tears that fall for these, can no green grave bedew,
And memory must erect her shrine, in the warm hearts of the true.

Oh! the sea may boast its sparkling gems and its snow-white coral caves,
And the pure and precious pearl that lies, far down in its deep, blue waves;
But thou, majestic river, what wealth thy waters hide —
The heart’s most valued treasure, the bosom’s dearest pride!

One common fate, one common home, is found by youth and age;
One common resting place they share, the infant and the sage,
The same proud wave, perchance, that laid the grey-haired sire low,
Has dashed from childhood’s downy cheek, its warm, bewitching glow.

A wave, a single, crystal wave, has levelled manhood’s pride,
And frozen in its chill embraces, the life blood of the bride;
A wave has bowed the maiden’s form, and one tumultuous billow,
Has been to many a bright, young head, its last and coldest pillow.

See, bounding o’er the “Grave Yard,’ a vessel in its might,
It skims the water’s surface, like a sea-bird in its flight.
Oh many a long-lamented one those waters have in keeping —
Sail slowly o’er the hallowed spot, where the silent dead are sleeping.

It is an awful thought that the gay, the living tread
Above the wave-walled sepulchre of the calm and quiet dead!
It is a solemn thought, that should one more fast sweep by,
Far down in that dark and dread abode, those breathing forms must lie.

Sail slowly — and let every soul, that those waves on their bosom bear,
With chastened spirits lift the heart to heaven in fervent prayer,
That He who holds f— human life, in his own holy keeping,
May save them from the wat’ry waste, where the silent dead are sleeping.

ESTE LD.

Albany, Oct. 15, 1842

Wiskonsan Enquirer (Madison, Wisconsin) Dec 24, 1842

Left My Bed and Board

March 9, 2011

Perplexing Case.

Hon. James H. Knowlton, one of our most eminent Western advocates, met with the following perplexing adventure in his early practice in Wisconsin:

A stranger came into his office and abruptly informed his that his wife had deserted him, and wished to have her replevined at once. Knowlton told him that that remedy would not meet his case exactly, and went on to inform him that if he would be patient until the desertion had continued one year, he could obtain a divorce. —

The stranger said he did not know that he wanted a divorce. What he mostly feared was that his wife would run him in debt all over the country.

“In that case,” said Knowlton, “you had better post her.”

What his client understood him to mean by posting, remains a mystery to this day. He said, in a meditative way the he didn’t know where she had gone, and beside, that she was fully as strong as he was, and he didn’t believe he could post her, even if he knew where to find her.

Knowlton hastened to inform him that by posting his wife he meant puting a notice in a newspaper, saying:

“Whereas my wife Helen has left my bed and board without any just -”

“But that ain’t true,” interrupted the client — “that ain’t true. she didn’t leave my bed — she took it away with her.”

The Adams Sentinel (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Sep 25, 1861

CAUTION.

WHEREAS my wife Anne, late widow of David Risher, had left my bed and board without just cause, on the 26th inst. — This is therefore to caution all persons, from trusting or harboring her on my account, as I am determined to pay no debts of her contracting after this date.

BALTZER KOONTZ, Son.
Bethlehem tp. July 27.

The Ohio Repository (Canton, Ohio) Aug 19, 1824

NOTICE. — WHEREAS MY WIFE, Anna Rolland, has left my bed and board I shall pay no more bills of her contracting from this date.

LEVI (his X mark) ROLLAND,
Fitchburg, Jan. 23, 1874.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Jan 29, 1874

Caution.

NOTICE is hereby given to all persons, that my wife Hannah Fosdick has left my bed and board, and has taken one of my children with her, John H. Fosdick. I hereby forbid all persons harboring or trusting her on my account, or in behalf of the child, as I will pay no debts of her contracting after this date; as I will support the child when returned to me at Norwalk.

JOHN M. FOSDICK.
Norwalk, Sept. 4, 1844

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Sep 24, 1844

NOTICE.

I, the undersigned, caution the Public against trusting my Wife LYDIA M’WHIRTER — she having left my bed and board last October, without any provocation and against my consent. I will not pay any debts of her contracting from this date.

JOHN M’WHIRTER
Baltimore July 17, 1841.

The Adams Sentinel (Gettsyburg, Pennsylvania) Aug 2, 1841

CAUTION AND NOTICE.

WHEREAS my wife Elvira Bridges, without any good cause or reasonable excuse there for, has left my bed and board and absconded with my two children this is to caution all persons from harboring her or them and to give notice that I shall pay no debts of her contracting or pay any expense for their or either of their support having suitably provided for them at my house in Bucksport.

EPHRAIM BRIDGES, Jr.
Bucksport Oct 12 1841

Bangor Daily Whig and Courier (Bangor, Maine) Oct 26, 1841


NOTICE.

MY wife, REBECCA, left my bed and board, and refuses to live with me under any consideration whatever, after intercessions and propositions of every kind, that an affectionate husband could make. I, therefore, hereby warn all persons not to harbor or trust her on my account, as I have arrangements made for her board, and by calling on me, or on Messrs. Wareing & Benson, or C. & J. Culp, she can have information, and be conducted to the house.

MATHEW M’KELVEY.
Plymouth, Huron County, Nov. 16, 1842.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Nov 29, 1842

Pass Him Round. — Mrs. Elizabeth Peterman, of Rochester, Fulton county, Indiana, thus notices her absconding husband: “Left my bed and board, last August, thereby making my expenses lighter, my dearly beloved companion, David Peterman, without any just cause or provocation. All the old maids and young girls are hereby forewarned against harboring or trusting him on my account, as I am determined not to be accountable for his debts, or, more especially, for his conduct. Papers will please copy, and oblige a female who is rejoicing at her happy riddance.” — Indiana Blade.

The Adams Sentinel (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Apr 13, 1846

Dennis O’Shanessy advertises as follows in the Columbus Republican: “I hereby give notice that my wife Bridget has left my bed and board and that I will not pay her debts, as we are not married.”

The Ohio Democrat (New Philadelphia, Ohio) Apr 12, 1872

Poetry Against Prose.

The following notices appear as advertisements in the Ticonderoga Sentinal of recent date:

NOTICE.

Whereas my wife Josephine has left my bed and board without just cause or provocation, all persons are hereby forbidden to trust or harbor her on my account, as I shall pay no debts of her contracting hereafter.

W.O. MEASECK.
_________
NOTICE.

No bed or board as yet we’ve had
From William O. or William’s dad.
Since last September, when we were wed,
Have furnished him both board and bed;
And for just cause and provocation
Have sent him home to his relation.

MRS. JOSIE MEASECK.

Josie has the best of it in wit if nothing else.

The Ohio Democrat (New Philadelphia, Ohio) Oct 5, 1893

NOTICE.

To whom it may concern: All persons are hereby notified that Joseph Leipert has left my bed and board without any cause or reason therefor, and that hereafter I will not be responsible for any board, lodging, clothing, food, expenses, or other article furnished him.

Dated at Corning, Iowa, February 26, 1898.

ANNA LEIPERT

Adams County Free Press (Corning, Iowa) Mar 10, 1898

NOTICE.

My husband, John S. Sanders, having left my bed and board, notice is hereby given the public not to sell him anything in my name as I will not be responsible for debts or bills contracted by him.

MRS. ANNA M. SANDERS,
New Oxford, Pa.

New Oxford Item (New Oxford, Pennsylvania) Sep 5, 1918

To all Whom it may Concern.

My wife, Francis Catching, having separated from me, and having left my bed and board without any just cause or provocation, I hereby notify all persons not to trust or give her credit on my account, as I will pay no bills, debts, or obligations contracted by her from and after this date, of any nature or kind whatever.

JOEL P. CATCHING.
Missoula, M.T., Feb. 23, 1883.

The Daily Miner (Butte, Montana) Mar 4, 1883

MY WIFE, Mrs. I.H. Tupen, having left my bed and board, I will not be responsible for any debts contracted by her after this date, December 11, 1919. Irving H. Tupen.

P.S. — Her name formerly was Miss Avy Alice Cutlip.

Woodland Daily Democrat (Woodland, California) Dec 19, 1919

The Tee Total Pledge

February 7, 2011

THE PICTURE. —

Note 1, the object at which they are aiming, viz, the removal of a nuisance, — the total overthrow of the rum casks. All the parties engaged seem to have this object in view, and all are laboring in their respective ways to accomplish it.

Note 2, the different kinds of instruments used for the purpose. Every one must be struck with the admirable adaptedness of the Teetotalers‘ fixtures to accomplish the object. Here is a fulcrum with a broad base, immovably fixed at a suitable distance, upon a solid foundation; lever of suitable size and length is nicely adjusted under the nuisance, and rests upon this fulcrum. Our teetotal men throw their weight upon the extreme end of the lever, and it would seem as certain as the laws of mechanics that the whole range of rum casks must tilt over.

But just as they begin to exult in the prospect of certain success by their admirable contrivance, one of them hastily cries out, “Hold, hold, neighbors, not too fast. You fulcrum is too near; I am afraid you will do injury to our cause by this precipitate measure. Let me place my moderation fulcrum under the lever, a little further back. We must be cautious, gentlemen, that we don’t injure the cause. Bear away upon my fulcrum while I hold on and steady it.”

These honest and zealous neighbors, ever ready to do any thing to remove the evil, again throw their whole weight upon the lever. They pull, and tug, and sweat, till they almost break the lever itself. But the rum casks stand firm; they budge not an inch. The moderation man persists in holding on to his fulcrum, and insists upon it that his plan is the only one that can succeed.

Now is it not perfectly apparent that all efforts upon “moderation” are utterly useless, and that the strength expended by it is lost.

Is it not then perfectly evident, that Mr. Moderation, however well meant his efforts, is in reality standing in  the way of more effectual measures, and doing more hurt than good to the cause.

Is it not also as clear as noonday, that if we would succeed, “moderation” should be laid aside, and all our efforts concentrated upon the “teetotal pledge.”

We commend the above illustration to the consideration of our moderate friends. It certainly contains matter for their serious reflection.

Alton Observer (Alton, Illinois) Jul 20, 1837

Image from the Melissa Launay Fine Arts website.

From the New England Spectator.
TEMPERANCE CELEBRATION.

The Temperance dinner and celebration was held at the Marlboro’ hotel, which was opened on that day, by Mr. Rogers. Mr. Fletcher, member of Congress from this district, presided.

We were much gratified to find such an array of talent and influence at a tee-total dinner, on the 4th of July, and at the opening of a tee-total hotel. It augurs well to the cause. Among others, were the editors of the Advocate and Mercantile Journal, Mr. Hallett and Mr. Sleeper; of the Clergy, Rev. Dr. Pierce, Mr. Pierpont, Mr. Taylor, Mr. Stow, Mr. N. Adams, Mr. Colman, Mr. Clough, &c.; and of other distinguished citizens, John Tappan, Moses Grant, Stephen Fairbanks, Dr. Walter Channing, &c.; and Mr. Snelling and others of the legal profession. There was a degree of hilarity suited to the occasion; and we did not see but that the inspiration of wit and poetry was as well excited by cold water as it usually is by wine.

At the close of the dinner, the following appropriate old composed for the occasion by Rev. Mr. Pierpont, was sung:

In Eden’s green retreats,
A water-brook, that played
Between soft, mossy seats
Beneath a plane-tree’s shade,
Whose rustling leaves
Danced o’er its brink, —
Was Adam’s drink,
and also Eve’s.

Beside the parent spring
Of that young brook, the pair
Their morning chant would sing;
And Eve, to dress her hair,
Kneel on the grass
That fringed its side,
And make its tide
Her looking glass.

And when the man of God
From Egypt led his flock,
They thirsted, and his rod
Smote the Arabian rock
And forth a rill
Of water gushed,
And on they rushed,
And drank their fill.

Would Eden thus have smiled
Had wine to Eden come?
Would Horeb’s parching wild
Have been refreshed with rum?
and had Eve’s hair
Been dressed in gin,
Would she have been
Reflected fair?

Had Moses built a still,
And dealt out to that host,
To every man his gill,
And pledged him in a toast,
How large a band,
Of Israel’s sons
Had laid their bones
In Canaan’s land?

“Sweet fields, beyond” death’s flood
“Stands dressed in living green;”
For, from the throne of God,
To freshen all the scene.
A river rolls,
Where all who will
May come and fill
Their crystal bowls.

If Eden’s strength and bloom
COLD WATER thus hath given,
If, even beyond the tomb,
It is the drink of Heaven,
Are not good wells,
And chrystal springs
The very things,
For our HOTELS?

Alton Observer (Alton, Illinois) Jul 27, 1837

Image from the Ohio History Central website.

BOYS, DO YOU HEAR THAT? —

There is a society of young ladies in Hartford, who pledge themselves not to receive the addresses of any young man who has not signed the tee-total pledge.

At a temperance meeting, not long since, a fair one offered the pledge to her friend, saying, “John, will you sign that?”

He hesitated, and finally declined. “Then,” said she, “you will understand, I shall not be at home next Sunday evening.

Madison Express (Madison, Wisconsin) Apr 14, 1842

‘The moon,’ said a total-abstinence orator, ‘is not quite ‘tee tee total,’ but she lets her ‘Moderation’ be known to all men, for she only ‘fills her horn once a month.

‘Then she fills it with something very strong;’ observed a by stander, ‘for I’ve often seen her half gone.’

‘Ay,’ said another, ‘and I have seen her ‘full.”

Tioga Eagle (Wellsboro, Pennsylvania) Jul 13, 1842


Image from Karen’s Whimsy

“A frog,” says Professor Pump, “is an amphibious animal, as vat likers on cold water, consequently he inwented the teetotal society. He always walks with a jump he does; and ven he sits down he has to stand up. Being a lover of native melodoes, he gives free concerts every night, he does himself. He perwides music for the millyon which he has been so called because it is usually heard in the mill pond. He is a varmint wot aint so bad when broiled on a griddle. No sir ree.

Rock River Pilot (Watertown, Wisconsin) Jul 5, 1848

Image from the National Women’s History Museum website.

Maine Liquor Law.

(CONCLUDED FROM THE LAST.)
[excerpt]

It is worthy of note that a large proportion of the Tee-totalers when they go a journey, leave their tee-total principles at home and become temperance men, and take a little wine or brandy occasionally for the stomach’s saxe and their many infirmities. Again it is asserted that a large majority of the people in the State are in favor of the Maine Law. —

Democratic State Register (Watertown, Wisconsin) Mar 15, 1852

MARCH OF MIND. —

An honest farmer in this State married a Miss from a fashionable boarding-school, for his second wife. He was struck dumb with her eloquence, and gaped with wonder at his wife’s learning.

“You may, said he, bore a hole through the solid airth, and chuck in a mill-stone, and she will tell you to a shavin’ how long the stone will be going clean threw. She has kimistery and cockneylogy, and talks a heap about ox hides and chimical affinities.

I used to think that it was air I sucked in every time I expired, howsomever, she telled me that she knew better — she telled me that I had been sucking in two kinds of gin! ox gin and high gin! I’m a tumble town tee total temperance man, and yet have been drinking ox gin, and high gin all my life.”

The Adams Sentinel (Gettsyburg, Pennsylvania) Nov 28,  1860

From Wiki

Teetotal Huzza.

BY JOHN ASQUITH.

As I rambled about one fine summers night,
I passed by some children who sung with delight,
And this was their ditty they sang at their play,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

Our fathers were sots, they had learned to love ale,
Our mothers were ragged, and their faces were pale;
The teetotal breeze blew their rags all away,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

Our bonnets were torn, and our shoes went click clack;
Our frocks went to uncles and could not get back;
But master Teetotaler did fetch them away,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

Our houses were naked, we had scarcely a chair,
The strong drink had broken the  crockery ware,
We have now chairs, and tables, and china so gay,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

We lived on dry bread, and just what we could get,
And if we had nothing we scarcely durst fret.
We have now beef and pudding, on each Sabbath day,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

We lived in deep sorrow, and darkness, and strife,
And who knows the ills of a drunkard’s child’s life.
But now we are happy, can dance, sing and play,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

Cedar Falls Gazette (Cedar Falls, Iowa) Feb 12, 1869

A water-spout — A teetotal lecture.

Indiana Progress (Indiana, Prennsylvania) Jan 29, 1874

John Anderson, My Jo – My Jim – My John – My Tom and My, What a Lunatic!

February 1, 2011

Image of this Irish couple (Luke and Bridget Reilly) is from the Photopol blog.

The parodies continue:

ANSWER TO “JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.”

BY MRS. CRAWFORD.

Jean Anderson, my ain Jean!
Ye’ve been a leal gude wife;
Ye’ve mair than shared by pain, Jean,
Ye’ve been my joy through life;
I loved ye in your youth, Jean,
Wi’ bonny snooded brow;
But maun I tell the truth, Jean,
I love ye better now.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *
I’ve been a man ol toil, Jean,
And aye obliged to roam;
But still ye had the smile, Jean,
And canny “welcome home!”
Our hearth was aye a light, Jean,
The kail pot on the fire,
When I came back at night, Jean,
I found my hearts desire.

Our bairus hae bred some cares, Jean,
But thanks to thee my Jo,
They brought not our gray hairs, Jean,
Wi’ shame or sorrow low;
And when at last our bed, Jean,
Beside the kirk maun be,
They’ll honor us when dead, Jean,
And that’s enough for me.

Rock River Pilot (Watertown, Wisconsin) Mar 1, 1848

The original Robert Burns version (previously posted) for comparison.

Peddlin’ My Jo:

1886 Bicycle for Two – Image from the Copenhagen City Museum

John Anderson, My Jo.
John Anderson, my Jo, John,
When we were first acquent
You wouldn’t ride the bike, John,
But now your spine is bent.
I see you riding by, John,
And goodness how you go —
You’re the swiftest sco???er in the town,
John Anderson, my Jo.

John Anderson, my Jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither —
I’ll ne’er forget the day, John,
Nor, ”aibelins, wil you ither!
We coasted on your tandem,
And, jinks, how we did go,
Till we struck that fence-rail at the foot,
John Anderson, my Jo.

— Chicago News.

The Daily Herald (Delphos, Ohio) Jun 17, 1899

Civil War Hero:

John Logan, O my Jo, John,
When we were first acquaint,
A soldier bold you were, John,
Bedecked with warlike paint;
And when your slogan sounded
It nerved your loyal clan,
For to the front they bounded —
You led them like a man.

Oshkosh Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jun 24, 1884

Image from Wiki.

Now for politics and corruption, but I repeat myself:

This one is about John Kelly and Tammany Hall:

John Kellyus, my jo, John,
When we were first acquaint,
You were a dreaded chief, John,
When you put on your paint;
But now your goose is cooked, John,
Your head is lying low —
It lies beneath old Sammy’s feet,
John Kellyus, my jo!

Albany Journal.

The Helena Independent (Helena, Montana) Oct 30, 1881

Image from The Old Photo Album website – American Civil War Portraits

COLFAX’S FAREWELL.

(“John Anderson, My Jo, John.“)

OLD subsidy, my Pomeroy,
When first we were acquaint,
The gospel of Sharpe’s rifles
Declared you quite a saint.
But now the cause of freedom
Will surely quick succumb —
In spite of all your bonds and things,
They cast you out, my Pom!

Well subsidized, my Pomeroy,
We fought the fight together,
And many a little picking, Pom,
Laid by for stormy weather.
Now we must tumble down, Pom,
But cheek by jowl we’ll fall,
And sink together in the mud
Where we were meant to crawl.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Mar 1, 1873

Image of Gov. J. Madison Wells from the Vangobot Pop Art Machine website.

“ADAPTED” FROM THE SCOTTISH.

Tom Anderson, my Jo, Tom,
When we were first acquaint,
For those electoral returns
In confidence you “went.”
You “fixed” ’em very bully, Tom,
With “Maddy” Wells and Co.,
And thought you had a certain thing,
Tom Anderson, my Jo!

But, Thomas A., my Jo, now
That matter “hasn’t went”
Entirely “serene,” and so
Your bonny brow is “brent,”
And your locks are prison locks, Tom,
And not at all like snow,
For they’ll not melt away with spring,
Tom Anderson, my Jo!

— Washington Post.

The Daily Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Feb 15, 1878

Image of John Sherman from Wiki.

ANOTHER CONFIDENTIAL LETTER.

FROM JOHN SHERMAN TO JAMES E. ANDERSON.

Jim Anderson, my jo, Jim,
When first we were acquaint,
You hadn’t kalsomined yourself
With pugilistic paint.
But now your jaw is oiled, Jim,
You’re telling what you know,
And I am shaking in my shoes —
Jim Anderson, my jo.

Jim Anderson, my jo, Jim,
We planned the fraud thegither,
And promised that we never would
Go back on one anither,
We juggled the returns, but James,
Jim James, how could you blow
And peach on me and Rutherford —
Jim Anderson, my jo?

Jim Anderson, my jo, Jim,
I promised we would pay,
But you despised a clerkship at
Three dollars every day,
Old Evarts should have sent you off
Consul to Cailao —
But hindsight isn’t foresight much
Jim Anderson, my jo!

Jim Anderson, my jo, Jim,
‘Twas not a fair divide,
You stole the mule for us and then
We wouldn’t let you ride.
And Stanley M. is sick, Jim,
And Hayes is lying low,
And I’m the deadest sort of duck,
Jim Anderson, my jo!

— N.Y. Sun.

The Daily Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Jun 9, 1878

Read more:

Title: A Political Crime: The History of the Great Fraud
Author: Albert M. Gibson
Publisher: W.S. Gottsberger, 1885

pg 214 [Wells, Tom Anderson]

Chapter XV pg 283 [Sherman and John E. Anderson]

President John Tyler image from the We Love the Prairie Primer homeschool blog.

From the United States Gazette.

A New Song to an Old Tune.

John Tyler, sir, my Jo John, when first we were acquaint,
You did pretend to be a Whig, for Harry, sir, you went;
But now you’ve got in power, John, the cloven foot you show;
A shame unto all traitors, John, John Tyler, sir my Jo.

John Tyler, sir, my Jo John, the Whigs they fought thegither,
And many a canty day, John, they had with one anither;
But you have betrayed them, John, and why did you do so?
A shame unto all traitors, John, John Tyler, sir, my Jo.

John Tyler, sir, my Jo John, when nature first began,
To try her canny hand, John, her master work was man,
But when she turned you out, John, she said it was “no go,”
You proved to be but journey-work, John Tyler, sir my Jo.

John Tyler, sir, my Jo John, why will you be a fool,
And sneak around the Locos, John, who use you as a tool?
They’re laughing in their sleeves, John, to think that you’ll veto
The only bill can save you, John, John Tyler, sir my Jo.

John Tyler, sir, my Jo John, the higher monkies go,
The more they show their tails, John, you know it’s even so;
Then get you out the White House, John, and homeward do you go,
And make the people happy, John, John Tyler, sir, my jo.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Sep 27, 1842

Image from the Turn Back to God website.

Sweet, Long-lasting love:

IT’S MIGHTY COMFORTIN’.

Oh, it’s mighty comfortin’ when your hair is gettin’ thin,
And the wrinkles in your face have come to stay,
Just to feel her little hand smoothin’ out each silver strand,
While you meet her lovin’ look and hear her say:

“John, my dear, it seems as tho’ every day you live you grow
Handsomer than in olden day.”
And you smile back at your wife while you think, in all your life
You never heard a sweeter word of praise.

Then somehow, the teardrops rise to your dim, old fadin’ eyes,
While you kiss the tender hand still white and small,
And you try to tell her how you loved her then — you love her now,
But, bless me, if the words will come at all!

For just then it comes to you to think of trials she’s gone thro’,
And borne without a murmur for your sake;
You can only bow your head at the lovin’ things she’s said,
And your poor old heart can only ache and ache.

But she knows what ails you then, and she kisses you again,
While you hear her gently whisper, sweet and low;
“Life has bro’t more hopes than fears; we have known more smiles than tears;
You are the dearest dear of dears, John Anderson, my Jo!”

So it’s comfortin’, I say, when your hair is gettin’ gray,
And our slippin’ down life’s hill a mighty fast,
Just to feel her little hand strokin’ back each silver strand,
While she whispers that she loves you to the last.

— Farmer’s Voice.

The Daily Herald (Delphos, Ohio) Feb 26, 1898

Image of Lunatic Asylum, Columbus, Ohio from Wiki.

Kind of odd, dare I say crazy, for this Judge to out “riding” with this  “lunatic.” Maybe he was jilted:

A Poetic Fancy.

Judge Gilmore, of Columbus, has the original manuscript of the following verse, written by a young man who went to the lunatic asylum about a week later. The young poet asked the Judge out for a drive, and when they had gone some miles into the country said his object was to submit something to him. He then recited, “John Anderson, my jo,” and when he came to the sad ending: “We’ll sleep the gither at the fit, John Anderson, my jo,” he exclaimed, “That’s not the end of it. Burns never finished it. That’s not the end of such life-long love. There’s more to it. I have the closing verse here.” Then he read it:

John Anderson, my jo, John,
We wilna min’ that sleep;
The grave, so cauld an’ dark, John,
The spirit canna keep
For we will wake in heaven, John;
An’ hand in hand we’ll go
An live for aye in blissfu’ love
John Anderson, my jo.

Lima Daily News (Lima, Ohio) Jul 9, 1889

*****

Previous “John Anderson, My Jo” posts:

Robert Burns: “John Anderson, My Jo”

and

John Alcohol and the Poor Man’s Club

One Burglar with Vested Pumps; One Weltering in Blood

June 17, 2010

Maryland State Penitentiary (Image from http://marylandghosthunterssociety.com)

A desperate burglar killed.

A notorious burglar, named Jesse Sutton, recently released from the penitentiary at Baltimore, met with his death on Friday night last in the following manner: On the night above named, Mr. William Power, of the firm of Power & Son, residing in Franklin street, near Pearl street, returned to his home, in company with a Mr. Zollinger, between ten and eleven o’clock.

Shortly afterwards, Mr. P proceeded to the hydrant in the yard, to get a drink, and, whilst in the act, thought he saw something run into an out-house. He immediately returned to the kitchen, seized a small piece of split wood, and walked towards the out-house, at the same time calling upon his cousin (Mr. Zollinger) to follow him with light. On reaching the place, he attempted to enter; but was resisted from within; finally, he succeeded in his attempt to open the door, when he was dragged in by the coat and the door closed.

At this critical juncture, and before his antagonist could fasten on him, Mr. P raised the stick of wood which he still held in his hand, and struck the villian on the head.

Clinging to one another, they reeled out of the place, the door of which had opened during the scuffle inside. Mr. Power then repeated the blow, when Sutton cried “partners! partners!” and staggered off.

By this time Mr. Zollinger had arrived with a light; and Sutton, on being interrogated to that effect, replied that he had three partners who were close by. Two or three watchmen, drawn thither by the alarm given by Mr. Zollinger, having arrived on the spot, Mr. Power went after a physician, and returned with Dr. Perkins, who dressed the wounded man’s head. He was then taken to the western district watch-house on a litter, where he died on Saturday morning, his skull being severely fractured.

Sutton is 41 years of age, has been in the penitentiary of the State four times, and was only discharged the last time on the 4th of April last.

When first discovered, he was in his stocking feet, and had his pumps beneath his vest.

On his arrival at the watch-house, he was searched; and a bunch of skeleton keys, a screw-driver, a box of friction matches, strips of pine wood, and a silver plated key, supposed to be one of those recently stolen from the house of Miss Rachel Colvin, were found on his person.

Image from Wikimedia

Another burglar killed.

It is a somewhat strange coincidence that a burglar, while plundering the store of Messrs. Sellers & Davis, Third street, Philadelphia, was killed on the same night and about the same hour, that Sutton the burglar was killed in the attempt a house in this city.

He had got into the store; some noise was heard in an adjoining house, when, being frightened, he and his companions, made their escape by way of the trap door.

Being in rather a hurry, it is presumed, he missed his hold, and fell from the house-top to the ground. When found, he was weltering in blood, and in the last struggles of death.

On his arm were the letters P.L., supposed to be the initials of his name.

Thus perished another in the very act of crime.

[Balt. Amer.

The Experiment (Norwalk, Ohio) Jun 22, 1842

Thirteen Rebellious Stripes

June 13, 2010

The first American Flag that was displayed in great Britain was hoisted on board the ship Bedford, Capt. Moores, of Nantucket.

She arrived at the Downs February 3, 1783, passed Grayesend the 4th, and was reported at the Custom House on the 5th.

A London journal of 1783 states that she was not allowed regular entry until some consultation had taken place between the  commissioners of the customs and the lords of council, on account of the many acts of parliament yet in force against the rebels in America.

She is loaded with 487 butts of whale oil, is American built, manned wholly by American seamen, wears the rebel colors, and belongs to the Island of Nantucket in Massachusetts.

This is the first vessel which has displayed the thirteen rebellious stripes in any British port. The vessell is at Horesley-down, a little below the tower, and is intended immediately to return to New England.

The Experiment (Norwalk, Ohio)   Jul 6, 1842

Title: Story of the American Flag
Editor:Samuel Fallows
Publisher: Educational publishing co., 1903
(Google book LINK)

Resisting the Power of the Locomotive

June 10, 2010

Singular Incident — Locomotive arrested by Worms.

On the completion, a few days since, of the railway on the tressel and bridge, over the Congaree Swamp and river, a general migration of the cattapillars of Richmond took place towards the St. Mathew’s shore. An army of worms, occupying in solid column the iron rail for upwards of one mile, presented, as was supposed, but a feeble barrier to the power of steam.

A locomotive, with a full train of cars loaded with iron, and moving at a speed of from ten to twelve miles an hour, was arrested notwithstanding, at midway in the swamp by these insects, and through the agency of sand alone, freely delivered on the wheel, was it able to overcome them. It was a sanguinary victory, in which millions were crushed to death, though the cattipillars maintained their ground and enjoyed a triumph in resisting, for a brief period, even the power of the locomotive.

[Charleston Patriot.

The Experiment (Norwalk, Ohio) May 4, 1842

Think it couldn’t happen?

Revenge of the Caterpillars!

Don’t Waste Your Powder, Gentlemen

June 8, 2010

DO NOT WASTE POWDER.

The Whig party, by the help of the Almighty, has been totally defeated. Its end has come, and a grave stone may be spoken for it without any danger of loss. Why then should our members of Congress pour their heavy fire upon a dismasted — a blazing and sinking ship.

On the morning of March 4, 1841, the Whig frigate, with her sails swelling gracefully from royal to ring-tail, rode in majesty on her ocean way. Her hull was newly painted — her rigging nicely fitted — her decks were crowded with men — and her quarter deck was full of officers.

The Democracy stood upon the decks of their weather-beaten cruizer to look at her, and all seemed to unite in the opinion that she would perform a four years voyage in safety; but suddenly a tempest came, a thunderbolt splintered her mizen-mast, rent her flag to tatters, and killed her commander.

Then came upon the ear of the listener the heavy roar of the alarm gun and cry of sorrow.

A hurricane followed the thunder — sail after sail was rent to pieces — spar after spar came toppling down with the look-outs and the top-men — seaman after seaman pitched overboard, and floated to the Democratic cruiser, whose commander had watched for the squall, and had taken in sail. Louder and louder howled the wind. The rudder was wrenched from its fastenings, and the ship dashed on at the mercy of the contending elements.

The first Lieutenant had taken command, and the trumpet was in his hand. A cry of fire now spread through the ship; and then, while the wreck was blazing, the crew mutined. The pursers strong box was robbed — his books were burned to wipe out all debts — dreadful curses rang upon the night wind, and echoed along the deep.

And hark! what noise is that? It is a gun from the rival frigate — again it peals, and again all eyes are turned towards the sound. It is the cruizer under storm stay-sails beating to windward; and now behold, she pours a broadside into the blazing frigate — despair sits at the magazine and death by the bread room.

The ship of the Whig party is doomed, and her memory even will soon be blotted out forever.

Save your powder then gentlemen.

Why don’t you save your powder?

[Alex. Index.

The Experiment (Norwalk, Ohio) Apr 27, 1842

Note: Spelling differences/errors were in the original article.

*****

The following is from Wikipedia:

1842 Election Results From Wikipedia

The U.S. House election, 1842 was an election for the United States House of Representatives in 1842.

Just one election cycle after the Whig Party gained control of Congress, they lost their majority. Whig president William Henry Harrison died within a month of taking office and his successor, John Tyler, was disliked by members of both parties. Tyler’s widespread unpopularity lead to an enormous defeat for his party, and the Whigs lost 70 seats, giving the Democrats a majority. With the economy rebounding, rural voters also chose the Democratic ticket to turn away from Whig policies of economic nationalism. The Law and Order Party, formed in response to the Dorr Rebellion in Rhode Island also took seats.

Robert Burns: “John Anderson, My Jo”

January 25, 2010

From: The News (Frederick, Maryland) Mar 28, 1924

Intriguing comment [excerpt] left by Astri on a previous post about Robert Burns and Auld Lang Syne:

I just discovered at a local Robbie Burns party celebrating his birthday last night, here in western Canada, what I, for 3 or more decades, have loved and sung in Norwegian as an old Norwegian folk song. This is “Jon Anderson, Min Jo”.

Last night at the party, I discovered the English-language song called “John Anderson, my Joe” – to nearly the same tune (some of the ancient natural-scale tones common in the Norwegian folk music had been anglicized or ‘normalized’ according to english folk tunes) and with basically the same verses, in English.

I said to my friend driving home in the car, “I wonder if Burns heard this song and ‘lifted’ it for its beauty and lovely sentiment,” ~  maybe while travelling in Norway, or in a pub meeting Norwegian travellers (brought together by the prospect of beer, ever-alluring to both our peoples, from early days of mead-making and viking-travel, on doubt!)!

It would be interesting to find out when the Norwegians first started singing this song.  Might turn out to be one of those chicken/egg things, but I would be interested in finding out more. I tried searching the Norwegian title, and I only got 2 hits, neither of which gave any information.

This comment jogged my memory of a temperance poem I had previously posted, which turned out to be a parody of “John Anderson, My Jo.”  I decided to see what else I could dig up on this same poem, being it is Robert Burns’ birthday. Evidently, this poem was so popular, it was parodied quite a bit. Below is a sample of what I found:

From the Murder by Gaslight blog (link below)

Looking for a sausage vat picture for this first parody, I was surprised to find the above image actually took me to a blog  post about the murder referenced in the parody! Link: Louise Luetgert: The Sausage Vat Murder

Rather sick sense of humor, I think:

SAID IN FUN.

John Anderson, my Jo, John,
When you and I first met
We loved each other well, John;
But not, already yet;
We had a little spat, John,
Not many months ago,
And you boiled me in a sausage vat,
John Anderson, my Jo.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Oct 21, 1897

SAID IN FUN.

John Anderson, my Jo John
When we again prepare
To kill the boar black pigs John,
That scent the perfumed air,
We’ll bribe our fellow men, John,
With cash before we go,
To haul them to the slaughter pen,
John Anderson, my Jo.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Nov 22, 1897

I saw the great regatta go
A half a mile from land;
The sons of Eli tried to row
Their boat to beat the band.
The oars sank deep, the men perspired,
I heard them puff and blow —
Too slow the pace, they lost the race,
John Anderson, my jo.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Jul 10, 1909

*****

Now, for a couple of advertisements:

The Ohio Democrat ( New Philadelphia, Ohio) Oct 18, 1888

SKIDOO!

John Anderson, my Jo, John,
When last it was we met,
Our winter supply of Coal, John,
Hand not been purchased yet.
“It’s time you was skidooing, John,”
I hear all the wise people speak —
There should be something doing, John,
Then do it now — this week.

No.2 Chestnut . . . $5.75 the ton
UNION COAL CO. 119 Main St.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Jun 25, 1906

*****

A political parody:

John C. Calhoun (Image from http://www.historycooperative.org

JOHN C. CALHOUN MY JO.

A COMIC POLITICAL SONG.
Tune – “John Anderson my Jo.”

John C. Calhoun my Jo John, I’m sorry for your fate,
You’ve nullify’d the Tariff laws, you’ve nullify’d your State;
You’ve nullify’d your party, John, and principles, you know,
And now you’ve nullified yourself, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

Oh! John how could you look into the face of Henry Clay?
The glory of the Western World, and of the World away;
You call’d yourself his ‘master,’ John, but that can ne’er be so,
For he ‘would not own you for a slave,’ John C. Calhoun my Jo.

The Father of the Tariff, and patron of the Arts,
He seeks to build his country up in spite of foreign parts;
And Harrison will soon upset the little Van & Co.
And renovate the ship of State, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

John C. Calhoun my Jo John, ambition in despair
Once made you nullify the WHOLE, the HALF of it to share;
The ‘whole hog now you’ve gone,’ John, with Kendall, Blair & Co.’
But ‘you’ve got the wrong sow by the ear,’ John C. Calhoun my Jo.

American mechanics, John, will never sell their votes
For mint drops or for Treasury bills, or even British coats;
They want no English coaches, John, while servants they forego,
For their carriage is of Yankee stamp, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

Oh! John he is a slippery blade with whom you’ve got to deal,
He’ll pass between your clutches too, just like a living eel;
You think he’ll RECOMMEND you, John, but Van will ne’er do so,
For he wants the fishes for himself, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

John C. Calhoun my Jo John, if this you dare to doubt,
Go ask the LIVING SKELETON who deals his secrets out;
His favorites are marked, John, the mark you cannot toe,
And you’ll soon repent the bargain made, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

This is dirty business, John, go wash your little hands,
And never bow your knee again to cunning Van’s commands;
‘How are you off for soap,’ John, I cannot say I know,
But ‘your mother does not know you’re out’ John C. Calhoun my Jo.

The brave sons of the South, John, will never own you more,
And Benton’s Mint Drops will not save — you’re rotten to the core;
The people will no power, John, on such as you bestow,
And you’ve jump’d your final sumerset, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

Then better men, my Jo John our sad affairs will fix,
Republicans in principle, the Whigs of Seventy six;
The offices they’ll purge, John, Swartwouters all must go,
And Sycophantic fellows too, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

The farmer of North Bend, John, will plough the weeds away,
And the terror of Tecumseh then will gain another day;
America will flourish John, mechanics find employ,
And our merchants will rejoice indeed, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

John C. Calhoun my Jo John, when one term shall expire,
He’ll drop the reins of power and with dignity retire,
To look upon a smiling land, that he has rendered so,
And every Whig will cry AMEN, John C. Calhoun my Jo.

MIDFORD BARD.
Poet’s Garret, Baltimore, January, 1840.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Mar 7,  1840

Francis Scott Key

This last one is not a parody, but rather interesting, if Francis Scott Key actually penned these additional verses:

JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.

A Pipe Creek Man Awakens a Reminiscence of Francis Scott Key.

A correspondent of the Washington Evening Star writes: In your issue of Saturday you publish an added verse to Burns’ “John Anderson, My Jo,” written by a lady from Georgia.

Mr. Francis S. Key, the author of the “Star Spangled Banner,” wrote two additional verses to Burns’ poem, and not remembering having seen them published, I send them to you.

Mr. Key writes:

“There ought to be another —

John Anderson my Jo, John,
From that sleep again we’ll wake,
When another day’s fair light
On our opened eyes shall break.
And we’ll rise in youth and beauty
To that bright land to go,
Where life and love shall last for aye,
John Anderson, my Jo

OR

John Anderson, my Jo, John,
One day we’ll waken there,
Where a brighter morn than ever shone,
Our opened eyes shall cheer.
And in fresh youth and beauty
To that blest land we’ll go
Where we’ll live and love forever,
John Anderson, my Jo.”

Pipe Creek, October 13, 1842. B.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) May 21,  1885