Posts Tagged ‘1891’

Whisky; It Burns

October 30, 2012

Image from Life in Western Pennsylvania

FIRE CAUSES A PANIC.

EIGHT PERSONS BADLY BURNED IN PITTSBURG.

Employee Unable to Escape from a Big Building — Walls Fall and Crush Adjoining Houses — Many Persons Hurt in the Crowd.

PITTSBURG, Pa., Oct. 28. — The explosion of a barrel of whisky in the big warehouse of the Chautauqua Lake Ice company yesterday afternoon caused the destruction of over $500,000 worth of property and serious injury to eight persons. Several of the injured, it is feared, will die. A score of more of others received slight cuts and bruises or were trampled on by the mob surrounding the burning buildings. Those seriously hurt were:

T.J. HEILMAN, married; dropped from the third floor to the ground; hands and face terribly burned. His injuries are considered fatal.

MARTIN GRIFFITH, married; dangerously burned.

EDWARD SEES, body and head badly burned; may not recover.

WILLIAM COX, dangerously burned about face and body.

W.M. SMITH, painfully burned; will recover.

LIEUT. FRANK McCANN of engine No. 7; struck by falling bricks and left leg broken.

WILLIAM WISMAN, struck by falling timbers and skull fractured.

JOHN REISCHE, badly hurt by falling timbers.

It was just twenty minutes after 1 o’clock when a number of employes on the third floor of the ice company’s buildings were startled by a loud report, and almost instantly the large room was ablaze. The men started for the stairs, but the flames had already cut off their retreat, and the only means of exit left them were the windows, fifty feet from the ground. By this time the heat was so intense that they were forced to creep out upon the window sills and hang by their hands until the fire department arrived. The flames bursting from the windows burned their hands and faces, but they hung their until the firemen placed their ladders in position and brought them down.

To aid to the excitement it was discovered that a large tank of ammonia was located in the cellar of the ice company’s building, and the police, fearing an explosion, quickly ordered the occupants of the houses on Twelfth street to vacate. All the houses in the neighborhood are a cheap class of tenements and crowded to suffocation with Poles and Slavs. When they were told to move out a panic indescribable started among them. House-hold goods store goods, children and everything that could be carried away were rushed to a place of safety.

The walls of the Mulberry alley side fell in with a crash and a few minutes later the eastern wall came down. The debris buried a low row of tenements in the alley and a three-story brick dwelling on Thirteenth street. The tenements were occupied by families, but fortunately they had been deserted some time before the walls fell in. Not one of the families had a chance to save any of their goods and all their furniture was destroyed. The ruins took fire immediately, and for a while the entire tenement district of Penn avenue was threatened with destruction.

When the walls of the big buildings fell the great mob of people made a rush to get out of danger. Many men tripped and fell and were trampled under foot. Several received painful but not dangerous bruises. Sheets of iron were cast from the burning buildings by the fury of the flames and hurled into the crowds. Scores of people received slight injuries, which were dressed in neighboring drug stores.

The Daily Review (Decatur, Illinois) Oct 29, 1893

Another article about the same fire:(I think the above newspaper got the date wrong)
Davenport Daily Leader (Davenport, Iowa) Oct 27, 1893

Again with the whisky barrels? Really?

MAY REACH TWENTY-FIVE DEAD.

Pittsburg. Feb 10. — The lost of life and property by the fire last night in the great cold storage plant of the Chautauqua Lake Ice company, was the greatest in the history of Pittsburg. At least fifteen persons were killed, over a score injured and property valued at a million and one-half destroyed. The loss of life was caused by the explosion of several hundred barrels of whisky in the ware house, knocking out one of the walls.

The dead are: Lieut. of Police John A. Berry, John Dwyer, William Scott, Jr., the son of President Scott of the Chautauqua State Ice Co.; Stanley Seitz, George Loveless, Mrs. Mary Sipe and her mother; Stanley Sipe, Lieut. Josep Johnson, a fireman name unknown; William L. Wallenstein, and three unknown men.

The missing are: Nathaniel Green, accountant of the Dailmerer building, supposed to be in the ruins; Thomas Lynch, iceman in the employ of the Chautaqua company, supposed to be in the ruins; Edward Berry watchman of the storage building.

It is believed that at least ten more bodies are in the ruins, which are still too hot to be moved. The principal losses are: Union Storage company, $775,900; Hoever’s Storage Warehouse and contents, $600,000; Chautauqua Ice company, $150,000.

Three more bodies were taken from the ruins this forenoon. The dead it is now thought will reach 25. Those taken out this morning were: John Hanna, Bookkeeper and cashier of the Chautauqua Lake Ice Co.; John Scott, another son of President Scott, and an unknown fireman.

_____

Later. — But eight bodies were recovered instead of 14, as first reported. Four are missing, and the firemen believe that a number of others are still under the ruins. The correct list of the identified dead is Lieut. Police Berry; John Dwyer, William Scott, Jr., Stanley Sipe, George Loveless, William A. Wallrobenstein, Josiah Hanna, and William Smith. The missing, Nathaniel Green, Thomas Lynch, John Scott and Edwin Barry.

Davenport Daily Leader (Davenport, Iowa) Feb 10, 1898

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More about the Chautauqua Lake Ice Company:

The Olean Democrat (Olean, New York) Mar 14, 1889

The Olean Democrat (Olean, New York) Jan 15, 1891

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Remembering Caraway Cookies

July 27, 2012

Image from Attic Paper

AUNT LUCINDA’S COOKIES.

Oh, baker, you haven’t in all your shop,
A cookie fit to be tried,
For the art of making them came to a stop
When my Aunt Lucinda died.
I can see her yet with her sleeves uprolled,
As I watched her mix and knead
The flour and eggs with their yolks of gold,
The butter and sugar, just all athey’ll hold,
And spice them with caraway seed.

Oh, that caraway seed! I see the nook
Where it grew by the garden wall;
And just below is the little brook
With the laughing waterfall.
Beyond are the meadows, sweet and fair
And flecked with the sun and shade;
And all the beauties of earth and air
Were in those cookies so rich and rare,
My Aunt Lucinda made.

So, add one more to the world’s lost arts,
For the cookies you made are sad,
And they haven’t the power to stir our hearts
That Aunt Lucinda’s had;
For I see her yet, with sleeves uprolled;
And I watch her mix and knead
The flour and eggs, with their yolks of gold,
The butter and sugar, just all they’ll hold
And spice them with caraway seed.

— Nixon Waterman.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Dec 29, 1900

Image from Homemade Dessert Recipes

Longing.

O, for the meadow-lands, warm and sweet,
Where the tall grass whispers the whole day long,
And the meadow lark on the old rail fence
Floods all the silence with exquisite song;
To lie on the south hill slope and dream —
O, wonderful dreams that never come true;
Then home to the kitchen, cool and wide,
Where grandma’s caraway cookies grew.

O, heart of mine, ’tis a weary way
From the city’s streets to the meadows wide,
From the clearer vision of manhood’s years
To youth’s sweet dreams on the south hillside;
So far from the ways that bruise the feet
To the grassy paths that my childhood knew,
From crowding walls to the kitchen wide
Where grandma’s caraway cookies grew.

— Florence A. Jones, in Good Housekeeping.

Daily Republican (Decatur, Illinois) Jul 27, 1899

Here are several Caraway Cookie recipes from various newspapers – published from 1891 – 1981:

The Mountain Democrat (Placerville, California) Jul 4, 1891

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For the Nutmeg lovers:

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) May 12, 1898

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The Wellsboro Agitator (Wellsboro, Pennsylvania) Aug 24, 1910

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This one gives the option of using the newfangled “butterine”:

Lincoln Daily News (Lincoln Nebraska) Jan 17, 1919

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This holiday recipe uses rose water and rose-flavored icing:

Hamilton Daily News (Hamilton, Ohio) Dec 2, 1926

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For leaf-shaped cookies:

San Antonio Light (San Antonio, Texas) May 17, 1936

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This special family recipe includes honey and English walnuts:

The Maryville Daily Forum (Maryville, Missouri) Sep 8, 1941

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And finally, this “modern” recipe (1981) from the American Rose Society includes rose syrup:

The Mountain Democrat (Placerville, California) Nov 11, 1981

Fallen Heros – Old Soldiers Day

May 28, 2012

The Daily Northwester (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) May 30, 1890

OLD SOLDIERS DAY.
MEMORIAL SERVICES IN OSHKOSH.

The speaker closed with the following poem of his own composition:

Brave, Generous Boys
Who shouldered quick their guns
And to the front they pressed,
Giving a life to save a life,
Dying that we might bless.

And the mother with heart un-speakable
Thinks of the blessful past,
And the image of her loving boy
Her noblest and her last.

But death came sternly with a touch
No mother’s love could shield;
Soon mouldering were those laughing eyes
On a southern battle field.

And the lonely mother left
Of sorrow has her share,
Deeming her country’s sacrifice
Is greater than she can bear.

But she thinks of Spartan mothers
In those cruel days gone by,
While firmer grows her trembling lip
And drier grows her eye.

And peace comes stealing o’er her soul
And mixing with tints her tears,
Paints immortal her boy
To shine undimmed by coming years.

There he is safe, serene and blessed,
The mother needs our care.
Her sorrows be divided up —
Let’s each one take a share.

To scared trust we’ll all prove true and guard it well with care,
And on the thirtieth of May,
With songs and blossoms rare,
We’ll gather round the brave boys’ tombs
In gratitude and prayer.

W.W. Kimball, orator of the day.

The Daily Northwester (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) May 30, 1891

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day,

Love and tears for the Blue,

Tears and Love for the Gray.

The Daily Northwester (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) May 30, 1893

Sarah Winnemucca: An Indian Princess

April 2, 2012

MISS SARAH WINNEMUCCA.

Miss Sarah Winnemucca recently passed through Carson, Nevada, on her way to Virginia City. This notable woman is commonly reputed to be the daughter of the old war chief of the Piutes, but this statement is denied, and it is represented that she was born of Digger parents somewhere in the foothills of the Sacramento Valley, and was educated by “The Sisters” at their Catholic academy in Marysville. Still the fact remains that she is enough versed in the Piute tongue to be able to talk fluently with the people of the tribe, for whom she had frequently acted as an interpreter. She is popularly regarded as the virgin queen of the Piutes; is a plain little woman, pretty dark; dresses like an American female, of rustic habits and modest pretensions; and talks English without any perceptible accent. She is a capable person, and reads our language and expresses herself in writing quite correctly, and with considerable force of expression. We have also heard of her writing poetry. As a reputed princess of the Piute blood royal she is a famous character. — [Carson, Nevada, Appeal.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Aug 2, 1873

THE PIUTE QUEEN.

A Letter From Her Highness to Chief Naches.

[Winnemucca Silver State.]

Naches, Chief of the Piutes, has received a letter from Sarah Winnemucca, the Piute Queen, now at Fort Simcoe, Washington Territory. She says she is well and doing well, and is now teaching a school among her people, which sixty of them, and sometimes more, attend. They have cleared about 70 acres of land and put in quite a crop of corn and potatoes. Lee Winnemucca is working for the agent at Simcoe Reservation, and Mattie, her niece, who accompanied her through the war last Summer, is dead. Twenty-one of the Piutes, who were taken to Simcoe last Winter have died, and there are quite a number of others on the sick list, many of whom are not expected to live. Those of the tribe who were taken to Vancouver as prisoners of war, she has not heard from, and she does not know what is going to be done with them. Princess Sally hankers for pine nuts, and wants Naches to send her as many of them as he can. She cannot tell when, if ever, she and her people are coming back, as they cannot leave without orders from Washington to that effect.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Jul 17, 1879

Sarah’s Challenge.

The following is said to be a literal copy of Sarah Winnemucca’s challenge to the editor of the Silver State:

Your statement that I am a drunkard is an infernal lie, and you knew it was false when you wrote it. If you are anything of a man you will meet me and give me satisfaction. I will cram the lie down your throat at the point of a bowie knife. An early answer will oblige.

SARAH WINNEMUCCA.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Feb 24, 1880

Image from dragonflydesigns – Ancient Voices

Married a California Princess.

SAN FRANCISCO, December 8. — The princess of the Piute Indians of Nevada, commonly called Sarah Winnemucca, was married last night at the Russ house, in this city, to L.H. Hopkins, an ex-soldier of the United States army, who arrived here from Arizona on November 3. The bridegroom informed a reporter that as far back as 1879, during the Bannock campaign, he first met the princess, and was smitten with her charms. Since then mutual feeling has inspired them and, an opportunity presenting itself, they resolved never to be separated again. Dr. Beers was the officiating minister. Princess Winnemucca Hopkins and Mr. Hopkins will take their departure for the east at an early date. The princess is well known on this coast. She has lived mainly in Carson, Nev., with her father, the old Chief Winnemucca, who died a few months ago. She is a bright girl, has a good English education, and looks more like a Mexican girl than Indian. She has regular features and dresses fairly. She is a great advocate of education and has lectured in this and other cities on the wrongs of her tribe.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Dec 9, 1881

Image from Fort Tours

PLEADING FOR HER RACE.

The Princess Winnemucca Before the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs.

WASHINGTON, April 22. — The Princess Sarah Winnemucca, of the Piute tribe of Indians, was before the senate committee on Indian affairs to-day, pleading for a setting apart of a reservation for her tribe. She was accompanied by a delegation of ladies and gentlemen from Baltimore. The Indian woman spoke in good English, emphasizing her remarks with graceful gestures. As she depicted the griefs of her people, she was frequently moved to tears. She said her tribe was scattered, that they had been driven from place to place, “Two winters ago,” she continued, “while being driven from one point old men and children were frozen to death. She also said that the Indian agents had deprived the tribe of the stores provided for them by the government. The Piutes are located in Nevada. The princess asked that camp McDermott be set apart for them.

The Atlanta Constitution ( Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 23, 1884

Google Book link – Read Online

An Indian Tale.

Life Among the Piutes,” is the title of a new book just published in the East, the authorship of which is accredited to Sarah Winnemucca, the Piute princess. In the introductory chapter the reputed authoress informs the reader that “I was born sometime about the year 1844. My grandfather, Winnemucca, was then camped at Humboldt Lake with others of his tribe. It was about that time that a party of white men returning from California, was seen approaching our camp,” etc., etc.

The book is said to be full of thrilling incidents in the life of the dusky heroine, (which of course never happened.) It tells all about the capture of Sallie and her brother by the whites and how they were taken to California and educated; how they rejoined the tribe as soon as liberated; how in after years they labored to keep peace between the whites and Indians; how the heroine wrestled with her people to make christians out of them, and to prevent them from becoming victims to King alcohol and other besetting sins forever thrown in their way by conscienceless white men, and all that sort of thing. One or two heart rending love stories, in which the authoress plays a conspicuous part, are also woven in to give spice to the narrative. All of which, no doubt, will be entertaining to people in the East who know the Indian and his mode of life simply through pictures drawn in fancy by Cooper and other blood and thunder novelists, but to those who have lived in Nevada a quarter of a century and are somewhat familiar with the Piute tribe and the career of this dusky heroine, whatever interest the book may contain will be from another and very different standpoint.

Weekly Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) May 3, 1884

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Sep 7, 1884

THE NORTHERN INDIANN.

They do Not Want to Go to Pyramid Reservation, and No Room For Them There if They Did.

The Silver State says:

Leggins’ band of Piutes, who remained peaceable during the Bannock war, were treated upon the cessation of hostilities exactly the same as the captured hostiles. By order of the Indian Bureau, they were taken under military escort from Fort McDermit, by way of Camp Harney, where they were joined by the hostiles, to Yakima, Washington Territory. Naches and Sarah Winnemucca went from here to Washington to intercede for Leggins’ band, and upon the representation of General Howard and other military officers, who were in the campaign against the Bannocks, and who knew that Leggins’ band was not on the warpath, the Secretary of the Interior promised Naches that the exiled Piutes should be permitted to return to their own country, and that they should be furnished a military escort through Oregon. Owing to opposition of the Indian Bureau and a change in the Cabinet, this promise was not fulfilled, although the Indians expected it would be; and after patiently waiting nearly three years, they made their escape from Yakima, crossed the Columbia river, and evading as far as possible the settlements in Oregon, finally reached their native hunting grounds, near Fort McDermit, almost naked and starving. During the intensely cold weather tow years ago, they suffered from hunger, as they had been on the road from Yakima all Summer, and had it not been for the military and settlers, many of them would have starved to death. The Legislature of 1883 asked Congress to provide for their immediate wants, and Congressman Cassidy succeeded in getting $5,000 appropriated to purchase food and clothing for them. About $1,000 of that amount was expended under the direction of the military at McDermit for their benefit, and possible the Indian Bureau may be able to account for the balance of it, though the Indians derived no benefit from it. Subsequently an appropriation was made to be expended in removing Leggins and his band to some reservation. A week ago, E.C. Ellet, a special Indian Commissioner, arrived from the East at McDermit to arrange for removing the Indians. He held a council with the head men of Leggins’ band, and they protested against being taken away from the land of their birth, stating that as their young men could work for the settlers herding cattle, etc., and hunt deer and other game, they preferred to remain, but expressed the hope that the Government would provide, during the Winter months at least, for the old and decrepid of the band, through the military, who always befriended friendly Indians. Commissioner Ellet, accompanied by Lieutenant Colville P. Terrett, then went to the Pyramid Reservation to see what provision, if any, had been made for the northern Indians, and if there was sufficient arable land there to accommodate them. We learn that they found that the lands which the northern Indians would have to occupy on the reservation are not susceptible of cultivation; that the best lands along the Truckee for eight or nine miles below Wadsworth are occupied by white squatters, who have good fences, and comfortable houses; and that Winnemucca Lake, which the Indians claim was originally included in the reservation, is now a resort for Chinese fishermen. They also ascertained that the supplies furnished the reservation were not sufficient for the want of the Indians now there, and that Leggins’ band would have to support themselves or starve if removed there. Commissioner Ellet, after due consultation with Agent Gibson at the reservation, did not hesitate to say that he would recommend the removal of the squatters from the Reservation, but even if that is accomplished there will not be room there for Leggins’ band, the old and feeble of whom, in his opinion, should be provided for where they are.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Dec 11, 1884

SARAH’S LIES ABOUT THE PIUTES STARVING ON THEIR RESERVATION.

Her Story of the Wrongs of Her People and False Charges of Dishonesty Against Indian Agent Gibson.

Sarah Winnemucca is the champion light-weight of the season, as will appear from a perusal of the following interview taken from the San Francisco Call of the 22d:

When old Winnemucca, the chief of the Piute Indians, died, he committed the interests of his people to his daughter Sarah. It was one of the most sagacious actions in the old man’s life. From that day to this Sarah Winnemucca has been the tireless friend of her people. She has brought to her work a fine mind, a generous nature, a fair education and indomitable energy. The first book written in the English language by an Indian is her vivid narrative of the wrongs of the Piutes and her eloquent appeal for justice for her people. In the history of the Indians she and Pocahontas will be the principal female characters, and her singular devotion to her race will no doubt be chronicled as an illustration of the better traits of the Indian character.

Sarah Winnemucca first spoke to a white audience several years ago in this city. The years that have intervened have been spent by her in addressing audiences in the East, relating to them the sad history of her tribe, and appealing to them to aid her people in their destitution. She has returned to San Francisco again. A Call reporter called upon her yesterday to inquire what the condition of her tribe was and what she proposed to do for them.

THE PIUTES STARVING.

“My people are famishing in the snow about Pyramid Lake, in Nevada,” she said sadly. “They are utterly destitute. My brother Natchez, the chief of the Piutes since the death of Winnemucca, my father, has only pine nuts to eat, and the speckled trout he catches in the lake. If he had not foreseen the need of the Winter last Summer, when he went into the mountains for the nuts, he would have had nothing. The Piutes are on the verge of starvation. They are growing weaker and weaker every day for want of food. They have been driven like wild beasts from place to place, and forced back from the meadows and the banks of rivers and streams into the mountains that are barren and wholly destitute of game.”

As Sarah Winnemucca, in these brief words, painted the destitute condition of her tribe, she expressed in her intelligent face the sorrow and indignation she felt. She is a woman slightly apast 40, with a heavy, yet shapely figure. Her face is exceedingly intelligent. She has strong jaws, with a delicate mouth, and cheek bones that are not so prominent as is usual in Indian faces. Her forehead is rather low, but broad, and her eyes are large and expressive. Her glossy black hair was gathered in a Grecian coil at the back, which showed the outline of her shapely head. She has easy command of colloquial English, and frequently expresses herself forcibly and eloquently.

“The Piutes are now on the reservation about Pyramid Lake,” she continued. “They number about 7,000 in all. It has been falsely said that the Pyramid Lake Reservation is rich in game and good lands. That was the representation made to the authorities at Washington when we were driven from the Malhuer Reservation. General Sheridan asked me, a short time ago, if our reservation did not afford us a good living. I told him that high bleak hills that only a goat could safely climb rose out of the water all around the lake; that the only arable lands were four acres on the river. He seemed astonished at the revelation, for he feels very kindly toward my people.”

FREEZING IN THE SNOW.

“How do your people live?” asked the reporter.

“Ah, that is a sad story, It is a wonder that they do live at all. They would all surely have perished long ago if their life-long experience with hardship had not inured them to scant food and exposure to cold. It is snowing now, doubtless, on their reservation, the lake and river are full of ice, yet they have no shelter except the wigwams, made of reeds and tule, no clothing save the bit of calico or blanket that they have picked up. Some of the young men herd cattle in Summer or work on farms near the reservation, and in that way they get a little money to buy blankets for the Winter; but they are the fortunate few. The rest have little to protect them from the cold.”

“What have they for food now?” inquired the reporter.

“Pine nuts, fish and rabbits. The latter is the only game on the whole reservation, and you may imagine how quickly they will disappear when hunted by 7,000 starving Indians.”

“Has no appropriation been made by the Government for the support of the Piutes?”

“My people do not belong to that class of Indians who are regularly provided for by the Government. At the last session of Congress Senator Dawes, of Massachusetts, secured an appropriation of $17,000 for the support of the Winnemucca tribe and Leggin’s band during this Winter, but not a cent of it has yet been spent for us, and I am afraid that it will never get farther than the hands of the rascally agents, who steal all they can get. My people are suffering for it now.”

THE INDIAN AGENT.

“Who is the Indian agent at your reservation?” asked the reporter.

“One Bill Gibson,” she replied with scorn. “He has employed all his relations in positions provided for by the Government, such as teachers, carpenters, blacksmiths and farmers. But they never do anything for the Indians. They live in idleness and draw their salaries regularly. The carpenter has not driven a nail for months; the teachers have never given a lesson; the blacksmith rarely lights a fire in his forge, and the farmer plows only for the white people. If a conspiracy were formed by the most cunning men to desert and neglect the Indians on our reservation, it could not succeed better than the selfish policy of Bill Gibson, the agent, and his hungry relations. Not a cent of the $17,000 which was appropriated for the support of the Piutes has been spent for us. Where it has been side-tracked on its journey from Washington I do not know.”

“Don’t the Indians sell fish and get money that way?”

“Yes; but they are robbed of that too. They are allowed to trade only with the settlers of the reservation. They but their fish at 5 or 6 cents a pound and sell it for 15 to 18 cents. My people don’t understand weighing either. They bring in a load of fish and the settler goes through the form of putting them on the scales and then tosses the Indian a silver dollar or two and goes off satisfied. Everyone connected with the agency is wholly devoid of conscience. They are there to get rich. There are people there who steal everything that the Government sends to us. They steal everything that the Indians own, and they run their cattle on our reservation, driving ours and the game off. It is a wretched state of affairs.”

“Are your people willing to become farmers?” asked the reporter.

“Yes, indeed, if they had but a chance. They are not a roaming, shiftless, lazy people. They want to work in the Summer they take it eagerly. If we could only get a start in agriculture, if we could only get arable land, we could take care of ourselves, but we have been driven from good land to worse, till now we are on about as bleak and barren a spot as there is in the whole state of Nevada.”

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Jan 25, 1885

Image from the National Park Service

Wants Protection.

Sarah Winnemucca writes the Silver State from Lovelock, complaining about the destruction of the Indians’ crops by the cattle and hogs belonging to white people, and asks if there is no law for the protection of the Piutes’ crops.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Dec 4, 1886

Image from A Landing A Day

An Indian Industrial School.

A Lovelock correspondent, under date of the 1st instant, writes to the [Silver State] as follows: “Princess Sarah Winnemucca goes East to agitate the matter of getting aid for building an industrial school on Chief Naches farm at Lovelock. Naches offers to donate a 40-acre tract for that purpose. The Princess will canvass among her eastern friends for their support and influence in trying to get Government aid towards the building of such an institution. There are some 400 Indian children within the country to be educated, and Sarah believes in educating them at home. She says it is all nonsense about the Indian children’s features changing when taken from home to be educated, as some papers go so far as to say, and that their features always remain as God made them. They learn rapidly at almost any school under proper treatment, but the right place to teach them is at home in their own State amid the surroundings of their childhood, with their parents, not among strangers in some distant land. Experience has taught her what her young people need, and the Government should make an appropriation and place her at the head of an Indian industrial school. So far she has conducted her school here without Government aid, having received assistance from her eastern friends, among them that grand old lady — Miss Peabody.”

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Jun 4, 1887

Superintendent W.I. Davis, of the Grand Junction School, with several Indian pupils, will leave here to-morrow morning for home. He expected to take with him at least forty recruits for his excellent school. He would have done so had not Piute Natchez, and his lovely relative the far-famed Princess Sarah Winnemucca, interposed a veto. This latter idolized friend of Mrs. Horace Mann and Miss Peabody can shed crocodile tears over the misfortunes and lamentable ignorance of “my people,” but now that the opportunity offers this “patron of learning” shows her hand. She is soon to go East to collect money to educate “my people,” but she protests against the Government educating them. She dislikes the Government and the dislike is mutual. Her dislike to the Government is her objection to “my people” being educated at the Government’s expense. If Sarah could handle the Government’s money as she does that of the misguided religious enthusiast there would never be a whisper by her against the Government educating the Piute people to which, unfortunately for them, she is a member.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Jun 7, 1887

PDF Link  Newspaper article:  Johnson Sides == “United States Peacemaker”

Combatting Superstition.

Princess Sarah Winnemucca came in from Humboldt last evening and had a long talk with Johnson Sides and other Piutes relative to the fraudulent prophet of Walker River, who is telling the Indians of that locality that the braves of former ages are soon to reappear on the earth to destroy all Indians who have adopted the habits of white people. Sarah and all the better informed of her tribe do not believe in any such foolishness.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Mar 25, 1889

Sarah Winnemucca, the Indian princess who attended Wellesley college, and under the nom de plume of “Bright Eyes” has written several frontier stories, is now teaching an Indian school of her own. She reports that she has fifteen or sixteen pupils, and is getting along nicely.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Apr 16, 1889

UNRELENTING BRAVES.

They Want Tuscarora Jake to Stretch Hemp.

A council of Shoshone Indian braves was held at Elko last week. Tuscarora Jake, the Indian thug, is in jail for the murder of two members of his tribe. The relatives and friends of Jake offered to give the relatives of the murdered men a certain number of ponies, blankets and money if they would consent to have him set at liberty, and to put up a number of ponies as indemnity for the future good behavior of Jake.

The relatives of the murdered men refused the offer, and said that Jake ought to be hanged, as he not only killed members of his own tribe, but a Chinaman also, for which another and an innocent Indian was sent to State Prison. The head men of the tribe concluded that Jake should be punished as an example and a warning to Indians who are disposed, while drunk, to murder members of their own tribe or others who happen in their way. They think Jake is guilty of a cold-blooded murder and ought to be publicly hanged, so that Indians and whites could see him die. Sarah Winnemucca and Nachez attended the council.

Weekly Gazette Stockman (Reno, Nevada) Oct 10, 1889

SARAH WINNEMUCCA.

Colonel Frank Parker Tells How She Once Saved His Life.

Princess Sarah Winnemucca, who died recently in Montana, was a remarkable woman in many respects, and a prominent feature in the Indian relations of the Pacific Coast for the past quarter of a century. She had but one idea, and that was the civilization of her people. She was the daughter of old Chief Winnemucca, of the great Piute tribe, which included the Bannocks, Sheep-eaters, Weisers, Malheurs and the Snake River Indians, who committed so many depredations in early days in Oregon and Idaho. Winnemucca and her whole family were ever true to the whites, and so far as their jurisdiction extended forced their tribes to peace. Colonel Frank J. Parker, editor of the Walla Walla Statesman, tell how she saved his life and that of his companions in the Malheur country in the spring of 1878:

Sarah was then on her way to the Malheur reservation in the vain endeavor to prevent the reservation Indians there from going on the warpath with Buffalo Horn. One night one of the horses of her team got away, and to help her out we loaned a young fellow, who was along with her, one of our horses to hunt the lost one. Charles Robinson of this city and a boy were along with us at the time, and for the help we rendered her we always gave credit for saving our little company from being killed. The Indians had already donned their war paint and we were in their midst. The very day we arrived on the reservation everything was looking dark. Sarah was all the time in consultation with Chief Egan, and sent for us. Going to her wickiup, she introduced Eagan, and intimated that we had better get, and stand not upon the order of getting. As we only had one gun among our crowd, the advice was taken.

After this Sarah joined Howard‘s outfit, and followed him throughout the Bannock campaign as a guide and a possible interpreter in case of a desire to surrender on the part of the hostiles. When the war ended she was in great demand by the Interior Department authorities, and did good work in having the remnants of her tribe removed to various other reservations where they could do no mischief. She was the only Indian on this coast who ever took any prominent part in settling the Indian question, and as such her memory should be respected.

Col. Parker could not have known old Winnemucca very well, for a more treacherous wretch never lived.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Nov 20, 1891

We called her Sarah Winnemucca, of the mint family? Well, Toc-me-to- which means shell-flower. Have you ever seen these flowers growing in an old garden among their many cousins of the mint family? Well, Tocme-to-ne loved them of all flowers best, for was she not herself a shell-flower?

Her people were Piute Indians, and they lived in every part of what is now the great state of Nevada.

Toc-me-to-ne had a flower name, so she was followed to take part in the children’s flower festival, when all the little girls dance and sing, holding hands and making believe that they are the very flowers for which they are named. They wear their own flowers, too, and after they have sung together for a while one will dance off on the grass by herself while all the boys and girls look on and she sings:

I am a daisy gold and white
Somebody catch me — me!

The grown-up people watch, too, as their children play, and Toc-me-to ne was never happier than when, light as a bird, she danced and sang her shellflower song:

See me – see me, a beautiful flower,
Give me a hand and a dance.

Then after the plays and dancing the children had all sorts of good things to eat, and the flower festival was over for a year.

Only three times did Toc-me-to-ne take part in the flower festival, for when she was quite a little girl, her grandfather, Chief Winnemucca, took his family and went to live in California, and when they came back she was almost grown up.

Her grandfather was very fond of her, and called her sweetheart, so she was sad and lonesome indeed when he left her and went to the Happy Spirit Land; but she did not forget his last words to her before he went. “Sweetheart,” he said, “do not forget my white brothers; be kind to them and they will be kind to you and teach you many things.”

In California the old chief gave to grandchildren new names — Natchez, Lee, Mary and Sarah, and Sarah learned to speak fairly good English. Later, when she came to Pyramid lake, she played with Mr. Ormsby’s children and learned to speak better English. Besides this Mrs. Ormsby taught her to cook and sew and to do housework.

When Sarah was fifteen years old she made the long 500-mile journey to California once more with her brother and sister and her grandmother. Her brothers took care of cattle for good Mr. Scott, who had known and loved Chief Winnemucca, and he gave them good wages, several fine horses, and two ponies for Sarah and Mary to ride. The sisters had always ridden bareback like Indian men, but when Christmas came Sarah was surprised to find a beautiful Mexican side-saddle from her brother Lee, and she learned to ride like the white ladies, and was very proud and happy.

Now the Piutes always would wander about. They lived by hunting and fishing, not by farming, so they moved from place to place wherever there was game. When they were in the mountains rough white settlers came to Pyramid lake and caught almost all of the fish with nets, so that there were no fish when the Indians returned. This made the Indians angry, and so trouble began. All this time Sarah was in California. Her father, Chief Winnemucca Second, and her mother were in Nevada, and she often heard good news from them, but one spring when she was seventeen years old two Indians came bringing the news from her father that he was in the mountains and wanted all his children to come to him, but especially Sarah.

Starting on their ponies they began the journey, riding beside the wagon where the grandmother rode. It took twenty-five days to reach Carson City, but here their father and mother met them, and next day all went to see Gov. Nye, whom Sarah told in English what her father, the chief, wanted to say.

Gov. Nye was very jolly and good, and when he knew how things really were he told the white settlers not to interfere with the Indians, and sent soldiers from the fort to drive the rough men away; so Gov. Nye and Chief Winnemucca became good friends, as they never could have been but for little Toc-me-to-ne and her bright interpretations.

For the next year Sarah talked both Piute and English, and settled many little troubles. She was called friend both by the Indians and soldiers, and her father and she thought often of old Chief Winnemucca’s words and kept peace with their white brothers.

New Oxford Item (New Oxford, Pennsylvania) Nov 5, 1908

Image from Nephilim Skulls International

Seek to clarify Indian myth about tribe of cannibal giants

By BRENDAN RILEY
Associated Press Writer

LOVELOCK, Nev. (AP) — Times are tough for the legendary red-haired cannibal giants whose alleged existence here centuries ago has been debated for nearly 100 years.

Scientists have said there’s no proof the “giants” first described in old Indian tales were cannibals. Chemical staining by earth after burial was advanced as a likely reason why mummified remains have red hair instead of black like most Indians in the area.

Now a new study under way at the University of Nevada indicates the “giants” were about six feet tall, and not up to 10 feet tall as had been claimed.
What’s left is evidence of a tribe separate from principal tribes whose Paiute descendants live here — perhaps a wandering, more aggressive but outnumbered band finally hunted down and killed or chased off.

Anthropologists say the story, while somewhat tamer, is still fascinating. But they concede the old myth has more appeal and, no matter what they say, will probably persist.

Don Tuohy, curator of anthropology at Nevada State Museum, says he’s confident the “giant” myth is about to be debunked. He asked for the latest study after a bundle of “giant” bones were found in a long-overlooked cabinet at the Nevada Historical Society building in Reno.

But Tuohy says the old tale will probably live on.

Dr. Sheilagh Brooks, chairwoman of the anthropology department at UN-La Vegas, is now analyzing the bones which apparently came from the Lovelock Cave, a nearby treasure trove for scientists trying to reconstruct Nevada’s early history.

Dr. Brooks says her initial investigation shows some of the bones were from cows, not giants. The human bones appear to be remains of Indians “maybe six feet tall — big, but not that big,” she says.

The myth was written down in 1883 by Sarah Winnemucca Hopkins, daughter of a Piaute Indian chief. She told of a strange, red-haired tribe of cannibals her ancestors drove into a cave and suffocated by lighting a fire at its entrance.

She said the “people eaters” were so fierce they would leap into the air, snatch arrows whizzing over their heads, and shoot them back at the Piaute attackers.

John T. Reid, a Lovelock, mining engineer, said Indians took him to the cave in 1886 and told him the same tale. But when he entered the cave he found nothing but tons of bat guano.

Reid was unsuccessful in getting an archeological dig started immediately. But miners realizing the value of guano as fertilizer started hauling it out in 1911. They promptly turned up bones, baskets, weapons, tools, duck decoys, various other artifacts and what they described as a 6-foot-8 red-haired mummy.

That spurred the first archeological dig in 1912. A second dig took place in 1924. Thousands of artifacts and about 60 average-height mummies were recovered. More studies followed, including radio-carbon dating which showed the cave was occupied from about 2,000 BC to about 900 AD.

Daily Leader (Pontiac, Illinois) Oct 4, 1976

Pirates, Opium and the Plague

January 23, 2012

Three Hundred Criminals Beheaded.

SAN FRANCISCO, March 12. — The steamer City of Pekin has arrived from Hong Kong and Yokahama, bringing advices that 300 pirates, robbers and other criminals were beheaded in Kwantung province during the last few days of the old Chinese new year.

New Castle News (New Castle, Pennsylvania) Mar 18, 1891

Things theatrical for the past two weeks have been rather of routine. The near approach of the holidays is having a depressing effect on the attendance at the Faurot. With tonight’s performance the Holden repertoire company will have closed their engagement of one week. Only two shows are booked for the coming week, the first being that startling success, “King of the Opium Ring,” this is booked for Tuesday night.

KING OF THE OPIUM RING

No doubt that enthusiasm is already being manifested concerning the engagement of the Chinese-American play, “King of the Opium Ring,” which will be the attraction at Opera House Tuesday, December 19.

The play comes with a repute for great success at the Academy of Music, New York, where it played to the capacity of that great theatre for 150 nights. It is a sensational melodrama which is said to contain more different kinds of villiany and Chinamen than anything that has been seen for a long time.

The scenes are laid in San Francisco’s famous Chinatown. The first act represents Deadman’s Dock, showing the escape of the smuggling yacht, “Halcyon” with a revenue cutter firing a fusillade from a rapid fire gun.

The second act is an opium joint, which from the outside is an innocent looking laundry, but the interior shows side rooms with upper sections fitted with bunks in which men and women lay with little lamps at their side inhaling “happy thought,” through realistic looking opium pipes. Opium smoking is a form of a vice which most theater-goers are familiar with only through the newspaper reports of a raid, and the realistic layouts offered in this act are a decided novelty.

In the third act is pictured the heart of Chinatown on the occasion of the Chinese New Year; the great mart, the Chinese theater and Joss house, together with the many illuminations are shown, and the thrilling climax of the rescue of the Queen from an upper balcony by the wonderful Chinese acrobats.

The last set is the assembly room of the swell Chink club of ‘Frisco, the Fong Quay Society, and is an exact reproduction of the original. This scene is said to be one of Oriental magnificence; in fact, it may be said that all of the scenes are the same, true to the originals.

Lima News (Lima, Ohio) Dec 16, 1899

Image from GeocachingPlague!

BLACK PLAGUE IN HAWAII.

Breaks Out In Two Islands — Situation In Honolulu Improves.

Honolulu, Feb. 15, via San Francisco, Feb. 23. — The black plague has broken out at both Kahului, on the island of Maui, and Hilo, on the island of Hawaii. The latest advices report seven deaths at Kahului, all Chinese, and one at Hilo, a Portuguese woman, the wife of A.G. Seneo. The news was received here Feb. 10 in a letter from Sheriff Baldwin.

Chinatown in Kahului, which had about 300 inhabitants, has been destroyed by fire. The sanitary conditions were worse than in Honolulu. The towns of Lahaine and Hauhua have established quarantine against other portions of Maui. An unfortunate feature of the case is the proximity to Kahului of several large plantations with their thousands of laborers. It is thought that the plague reached Kahului through the shipment of Chinese new year goods.

In Honolulu the health situations is better than at any time since the outbreak of the plague. Not a case has developed in the last ten days. Although the board of health is confident that the trouble is over, vigilance will not be relaxed. Up to Feb. 6, the date of the last case, there had been 50 deaths from the plague in this city. The board of health has passed a resolution prohibiting the landing of all merchandise from countries where the bubonic plague exists.

Saturday, Feb. 17, has been set apart as “rat killing” day, and a great slaughter of the rodents is expected.

Portsmouth Herald (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) Feb 24, 1900

A Legal Lyric – The Martyred Mule

August 11, 2011

A LEGAL LYRIC

THE LAW AS TO MULES AND RAILWAY COMPANIES.

The 139th volume of the Pennsylvania State Reports, recently published, contains as an appendix the following interesting verses.

THE MARTYRED MULE.

BY IRVING BROWNE.

DEDICATED BY PERMISSION TO THE SHADE OF THE LATE HENRY BERGH.

A dissenting opinion, by permission from “The Green Bag,” III., 27. Audi alteram parlem!

Where a mule, on his way home from work, unattended, is on a railway track at a highway crossing, the railroad company is under no obligation to sound the whistle, to warn him of an approaching train: Fisher v. Penna. R. Co., 126 Pa. 293.

In Texas, where the potent twelve
Pronounce the penalty of crime,
I find, when in the books I delve,
That rather more than half the time
The jury, with a disregard
Of custom, by some novel rule,
Pronounce the sentence, somewhat hard,
That man is worth much less than a mule;
But then, in Pennsylvania,
This stupid quadruped of late,
By some judicial mania,
Is much less favored in estate;

From off a dusty, hot highway,
Entranced as in a pleasing dream,
A tired mule doth careless stray
Where coaches are propelled by steam, —
A sober and industrious beast,
Released at close of day from load,
Perchance the sight of grassy feast,
Where lands of railway cross his road,
Upon the tracks attracted him
Away from customary beat;
Perchance an expectation dim
Some donkey-engine there to meet.
And there he crops the juicy herb,
Oblivious of the deadly car,
While spasms of delight disturb
Appendages auricular;
The while assiduous tail doth twitch
To fend mosquitoes from his back; —
Alas! it had no power to switch
Approaching train from off the track!

Poor silly wretch! he strays along
Unthinking, heedless, void of fear;
And though his ears are very long,
Alas! he has no engineer.
And so a locomotive rude,
Upon that deadly iron rail,
Doth very wantonly intrude
‘Twixt ample ears and meager tail.

Now, when to suit the matter grew,
The engineman had naught to say,
Save that though he no whistle blew,
He thought the mule would step away.
He knew the measure of his care
Toward men appearing on the road;
To mules he never was aware
A similar vigilance was owed.
‘Twas strange if sorry quadruped
Could stay the progress of the mails,
Because from rightful precincts led
To loiter on forbidden rails.
His ears were thrice as long as men’s,
So should his sense of hearing be;
He’d twice as many legs, and hence
The abler accidents to flee.
He had no claim to bell nor whistle;
He had no right that men respect!
If too intent on meal of thistle,
He met the fate he might expect.

This heartless but ingenious plea
Seduced that hasty magistrate,
And this illogical decree
Sustained the corporation’s prate:
“If engineers were held to sound
The whistle or to ring the bell,
The mule conclusively was bound
To listen, stop, and look as well.”
This judgment was pronounced Per Cur.;
No wonder that his Honor should
Anonymity prefer
Where justice was misunderstood.

Such was the Court’s idea of wit
And law to animals applied;
Humaner lawyers, hearing it,
Its relevancy have denied.

When men are walking on the track,
The law presumes that they will heed
The present danger, and step back,
And so to stop the train no need.
Mules have not men’s intelligence,
Are not forewarned by human fears;
And so presumptive evidence
Is not proportioned to their ears.
The whistle might arouse a mule,
And scare him out of danger’s way,
As well as any two-legged fool
Who should in such dilemma stray.
As well might engineer neglect
A man of danger to apprise,
By signals which he might suspect
He was too deaf to recognize.

If mules could read this bitter tale,
They’d wave a sympathetic ear;
With dismal bray the air assail,
And drop a heavy muleteer.

In some horse-heaven, his rest well earned,
This mule with Davies’ donkey *treads;
Their shoes laid off, and collars turned
To glorious halos round their heads.
_____

*The defendent, driving his wagon at a “smartish” pace, negligently drove against and killed the plaintiff’s ass, left fettered by the fore-feet on the highway, and thus unable to get out of the way of the wagon. Held, that, although it was an illegal act on the part of the plaintiff so to fetter the ass on the highway, yet, all the same, the plaintiff was entitled to recover; ABINGER C.B. PARKE, GURNEY and ROLFE, B.B., in Davis vs. Mann, 10 M. & W., 546 (1842).

Wellsboro Agitator (Wellsboro, Pennsylvania) Oct 2, 1891

Corsets for Everyone

June 22, 2011

This poetic advertisement ran in the newspaper back in 1885:

How dear to my heart is the “Comfort Hip” Corset,
A well moulded figure ‘twas made to adorn,
I’m sure, as an elegant, close fitting corset,
It lays over all makes I ever have worn.
Oh, my! with delight it is driving me crazy,
The feelings that thrill me no language can tell;
Just look at its shape, — oh, ain’t it a daisy!
The “Comfort Hip” corset that fits me so well.
The close fitting corset – the “Lock Clasp” corset –
The “Comfort Hip” corset that fits me so well.

It clings to my waist so tightly and neatly,
Its fair rounded shape shows no wrinkle or fold;
It fits this plump figure of mine as completely
As if I’d been melted and poured in its mould.
How fertile the mind that was moved to design it,
Such comfort pervades each depression and swell,
The waist would entice a strong arm to entwine it, —
The waist of this corset that fits me so will.
The close fitting corset, — the “Lock Clasp” corset –
The “Comfort Hip” corset that fits me so well.

Of course I will wear it to parties and dances,
And gentlemen there will my figure admire!
The ladies will throw me envious glances,
And that’s just the state of affairs I desire;
For feminine envy and male admiration
Proclaim that their object’s considered a belle.
Oh, thou art of beauty – the fair consummation –
My “comfort Hip” corset that fits me so well.
The Five-Hook corset – the “Lock Clasp” corset –
The “Comfort Hip” corset that fits me so well.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) Dec 19, 1885

Saved By a Corset Steel.

Missouri Republican Last Saturday Mrs. Lucy Moore, aged twenty-one years, and a Mrs. Miller were among the passengers on the Santa Fe train coming to El Paso. About seventy miles north of El Paso, the train stopped in the open prairie on account of a hot journal. Mrs. Miller has a revolver that she had loaded for some time, and as she had tried in vain to pick out the cartridges, she thought it a good time to fire them off to empty the chambers. She fired several shots just at random, and then snapped the pistol three times. After the last shot she thought it was empty and went to picking out the shells when the weapon went off, the bullet striking Mrs. Moore in the pit of the stomach. The wounded woman was brought to El Paso. A medical examination showed that the corset had acted as a chain armor. The bullet struck a corset steel and was turned to the right, apparently causing only a flesh wound.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jan 6, 1888

Mrs. Robert Hintze, of 3606 Vincence avenue, Chicago, formerly Miss Jennie Gillet, of Fond du Lac, was badly injured by the bursting of one of the pipes of her kitchen range. The explosion resulted in badly lacerating her face, and she is in great danger of losing one of her eyes. A piece of iron struck her over the stomach, and would have probably caused fatal injury but for the resistance of a corset steel.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jan 5, 1888

Saved by Her Corset.

CHICAGO, Aug. 14 — Lillie Vale, who was shot by her lover, George Slosson in a Washington street saloon Sunday night, will not die. The ball struck a whalebone in her corset and glanced off, inflicting a serious but not fatal wound.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Aug 14, 1888

Her Corset Saved Her.

New York, Jul 6 00 John Billses, out of pure patriotic devilment fired a loaded revolver into a crowd on James street yesterday. A bullet struck Mrs. Oliver Fairly in the waist but glanced off without doing her any injury. Her steel corset saved her life. John is held for trial.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jul 6, 1888

Bright Bits

Motto for a corset factory — “We have come to stay.”

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Dec 20 1886

FRIVOLITIES.

No woman ever went to a corset shop for a stay of proceedings.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jun  4, 1886

A New York lady has invented a corset which will squeeze a woman to death in five minutes if she feels like suicide.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Ftichburg, Massachusetts) Oct 11, 1873

Why does a widow feel her bereavement less when she wears corsets? Because then she’s solaced.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) May 4, 1872

COMICAL CUTS.

The corset cannot be abolished; it is woman’s main-stay.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) May 15, 1888

How to Put on a Corset.

The San Francisco Chronicle is responsible for the following amusing description of an examination by a coroner’s jury, where the coroner desired to show the course taken by the ball, and for this purpose produced the corsets worn by Mrs. Burkhart, at the time of the tragedy:

“You see,” said he — and here he drew the corsets around his waist lacings in front — “the ball must have gone here from behind. No, that can’t be either, for the doctor says the ball went in front. Confound it, I’ve got in on wrong. Ah! this way.” (Here the coroner put them on upside down.) “Now you see,” pointing to the hole in the garment, which rested directly over his hip, “the ball must have gone in here. No, that can’t be either, for” —

Here Mr. Mather, the handsomest man on the jury broke in —

“Dr. Stillman,” said he, “you’ve got the corset on wrong.”

Here Dr. Stillman blushed like a puppy.

“Well,” said he, “I’ve been married twice, and ought to know how to rig a corset.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Mather, “but you don’t. You had it right in the first place. The strings go in front, and the ladies clasp them together in the back. Don’t I know, I think I ought to; I’ve been married. If you doubt it, look here, (pointing to the fullness at the top.) How do you suppose that’s going to be filled up unless you put it on as I suggest?”

“That,” said Dr. Stillman; “why, that goes over the hops.”

“No, it don’t,” said Mr. Mather; “that fullness goes somewhere else — this way;” and here Mr. Mather indicated where he thought the fullness ought to go.

At this a pale faced young man with a voice like a robin, and a note book under his arm, said he thought the ladies always clasped their corsets on the side. The pale faced young man said this very innocently, as if he wished to convey the impression that he knew nothing whatever of the matter. The jury laughed the pale faced young man to scorn, and one of them intimated that he thought the young man was not half so green about women’s dress as he tried to appear. The young man was a reporter, and it is, therefore, exceedingly probable that this knowledge was fully as limited as was apparent from his suggestion, the jury to the contrary notwithstanding.

Here another juryman discovered that Dr. Stillman had the corset on bottom side up.

“Doctor,” said he, “put it on the other way.”
Then the doctor put it on in reverse order, with the lacings in front. This brought the bullet holes directly over the tails of his coat.

“I don’t think,” said Mr. Mather, “that the bullet went in there, doctor.”

“No, I don’t think it did,” was the reply. “Confound it. It’s mighty funny — six married men in this room and not one that knows how to put on a woman’s corset.”

Here the Chronicles reporter, who has several sisters and always keeps his eyes open, advanced and convinced Dr. Stillman and Mr. Mather, after much argument, that the lacings of the corsage go behind, and that the garment is clasped in front. After this explanation the course of the bullet was readily traced, and found to bear out the explanation afforded by the two physicians.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachuetts) Jun 12, 1874

Corsets for Men.

The corset is becoming more and more a necessity of the ultra-fashionable man’s toilet, says a New York paper. The latest style of corsets for men look more than anything else like a large-sized belt curved for the hips, and are about ten inches wide. They are made of the same material as a woman’s corset, but whalebones are used instead of steel for the purpose of giving shape to them. They are usually laced at the back and are faced in front by means of eleven small elastic bands. The elastic is used so as to give perfect freedom of motion.

“How much do these corsets cost?” was asked of a manufacturer.

“The corset-wearers pay all the way from $2.50 to $20 a pair, and they are very particular not to say cranky, about the fit of them.”

“What class of men wear them?”

“The men who wear them are, in the first place, the fashionable young fellows around town, who are intent on being known for their handsome figures, and who do everything they can to increase the size of their shoulders and diminish the size of their waist. Outside of these the wearers of them are military men and stout men who find themselves growing too corpulent for gracefulness. Actors often wear them, and among the actors who are addicted to this sort of thing Kyrle Bellow and Herbert Kelsey are most frequently quoted. These men, it’s said, “secure corsets from a theatrical costumer instead of the fashionable furnishing-goods men on Broadway.”

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) May 10, 1890

Now they are talking of corsets for men. Some people will go any length to get tight.

Modesto Evening News (Modesto, California) Feb 13, 1923

Not content with one external revolt, there are those devotees to style who are advocating (no fooling) corsets for men.

“What’s this country coming to, anyway?” the writer heard one man asking another in conversation. “There’s no dispute on the point that ‘co-worked’ form would be the corset wearer’s, but the real mission of the corset would be to shape the wearer’s career.”

And all this climaxes an announcement at the Mercantile Exposition (in the broadest sense) that corsets practically are going to be taboo with “madame who wishes to be right in style,” figuratively speaking.

And, in the words of the gentleman quoted above, there is cause to wonder “if man really is to become the unwitting victim of the law of compensation, because somebody [has] to wear the darn things.”

Modesto Evening News (Modesto, California) Aug 10, 1923

An Electric Corset.

Paris is laughing over a joke about an American inventor who is said to have patented an electric corset that is to bring about the reign of morality at once. If one of these articles is pressed by a lover’s arm it at once emits a shriek like the whistle of a railway engine; and the inventor claims that he has already married three of his daughters, owing to the publicity thus thrust upon a backward lover.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Jul 16, 1891

A Few Words About Electric Appliances.

ALBERT LEA, May 28th, 1886 — W.S. Jackson — DEAR SIR: Previous to wearing Dr. Scott’s Electric corset I was troubled with severe pains in my back and shoulders, and after using one for only two weeks the pain has entirely disappeared. I would not part with it for four times its cost.

MISS BERTHA REIMER

Freeborn County Standard (Albert Lea, Minnesota) Jun 16, 1886

Every Mail brings us Testimonials like the following:

Memphis, Tenn., November 28.
Dr. Scott’s Electric Corsets have given me much relief, I suffered four years with breast trouble, without finding any benefit from other remedies. They are invaluable.

MRS. JAS. CAMPBELL.

*****

De Witt, N.Y., June 11.
I have an invalid sister who has not been dressed for a year. She has worn Dr. Scott’s Electric Corsets for two weeks, and is now able to be dressed and sit up most of the time.

MELVA J. DOE.

Daily Democratic Times (Lima, Ohio) Sep 29, 1886

Even children should wear corsets! Be a sensible mother — get your child a corset so she can be beautiful.

The Salem Daily News (Salem, Ohio) Aug 26, 1890

Rain-Makers: Wizards, Kings…and Uncle Sam

June 14, 2011

EFFECTS OF RAIN-MAKING

Uncle Sam’s Rain: Prosperity
Politician’s Rain: Office
Miser’s Rain: Money
Merchant’s Rain: Orders
Farmer’s Rain: Crops
Spinster’s Rain: Angels? Babies?

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Sep 5, 1891

Image of men attempting to make rain — from the Nebraska State Historical Society website.

RAIN TO ORDER.

An Interview With Frank Melbourne, the Rain King.

CINCINNATI, July 3. — An evening paper publishes the following interview held with Frank Melbourne, the rain wizard, at Canton, O., Monday evening:

Late this evening, during a drizzling rain, your correspondent called on Frank Melbourne, the storm wizard, at his quarters in the Hotel Yohe. Melbourne, who is the busiest man in Ohio just at the present, could not be seen at the noon hour, being then engaged in the undertaking of bringing a storm, he said, and too busy to spare time for an interview. To the patter of the rain upon the roof, the wizard bid the correspondent be seated.

As a prelude to the conversation, and no doubt indicative of his powers, Melbourne pointed his finger upward, where the rain was playing a tattoo upon the roof, and said: “This is the rain I was advertized to bring. It was booked for Tuesday, but, owing to the condition of the atmosphere it came a day sooner than expected. It takes from a day to two days to bring a storm. I began on Sunday to start this one, expecting it to be here on Tuesday, but you see it got around a little in advance.”

“How do you produce these rains?”

“That is a secret I hardly dare divulge beyond saying it is the infusion of certain chemicals in the air through a machine of my invention.”

“How long have you been engaged in this occupation?”

“I began to work on my machine twelve years ago last September and soon after brought the first rain. I was then in Australia. I made twelve experiments in Queensland and New South Wales, all of which were successful. A rain can be brought there more rapidly than here, being closer to the sea and not so hilly.”

“The formation of the land there has something to do with the bringing of a rain?”

“Oh, yes, considerable. The nearer to the sea and the more level the land the sooner a rain can be started. One day was all the time needed there.”

“What are your charges for bringing a real good shower?”

“Three hundred dollars is all I ask, and that not to be paid until the rain is produced. This is much cheaper than most experiments of the kind are made.”

“How large a territory can you cover?”

“About two hundred and fifty thousand square miles.”

“Are your storms all electrical and accompanied by thunder and lightning?”

“Not at all. That depends upon the condition of the atmosphere at the time it is produced.”

Mr. Melbourne at this time felt that his presence was required at his office, where the rain machine was then at work, and begged to be excused, handing the correspondent the accompanying circular, which, he said, would throw some light upon his invention.

Mr. Melbourne is a rather tall and slender man, decidedly nervous and thoroughly in earnest regarding his experiment as an actual fact as he regards it now. Whether there is any truth in his assertions or not, he is the biggest Roman of them all at present, and managers of picnics and outdoor sports consult this modern oracle before determining upon the date.

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Jul 3, 1891

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Jul 2, 1891

The New Era (Humeston, Iowa) Nov 18, 1891

The Evening News (Lincoln, Nebraska) Jul 27, 1892

The Last of the Rainmakers.

George Matthews of Wichita is the only one left of all the Kansas rainmakers who has nerve enough to get into public notice and talk about his system. Scoffs and jeers have no terrors for Mr. Matthews. On Friday night he commenced operations at a point near Wichita under an agreement to bring rain by Monday night or ever after hold his peace. In a talk to a reporter the rain wizard said:

“I use thirty-six electric batteries, two jars of hydrogen gas, and two jars of compound hydrogen gas in making rain. In order to produce a storm center we mix the hydrogen gas so that it explodes in the upper air. This forms a vortex. Then the clouds hover around and concentrate, forming a storm center.”

The New Era (Humeston, Iowa) Jul 31, 1895

Millions of dollars have been spent in the last few years on the perfection of irrigation, which, up until the present time, was the only solution to crop production in arid sections.

But science is always solving these problems in other ways, as in the case of Chas. M. Hatfield, the “Rain Wizard,” who claims to have perfected a chemical apparatus whereby rain clouds are attracted and caused to drop their wealth of rain drops. Mr. Hatfield has practiced his secret system for 22 years with much success, charging from $1000 to $3000 an inch for rain. Only recently he was credited with a cloudburst in the northwest. Press reports did not state whether or not he was paid at the above rate.

Adams County Press (Corning, Iowa) Aug 18, 1920


THE RAIN.

Hear the tapping of the rain
Tripping on the window pane
Like gay, nimble footed fairies
Dancing in a field of grain.
How the new drops dart and pass
Till they press against the glass
Lightly as the fragile fingers
Of a dainty, crippled lass.

Oh, these pixies of the mist,
Jeweled, all, from heel to wrist,
How they glitter as they gather
To some nature nurtured tryst!
How they romp across the dim
Spaces of the day or swim
In a vapor surf with Zephyr,
Playing hide and seek with him!

Oh, the rain of field and town,
Darting, drifting, dawdling down,
Careless of its brief existence
And creation’s smile or frown!
Wasn’t it but yesterday
That we heard the shower say:
“Cheer up. Time is but a moment.
Make the most of work or play?”

— Chicago Record.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Feb 17, 1899

The County Fair

April 26, 2011

Image from the American Gallery website

The County Fair.

The county fair is rife,
And the farmer and his wife
Are there to show the best that they can do;
There are cattle sleek and fat,
Pigs and poultry, and all that,
And of all the grangers take a critic’s view.
There are fruits and vegetables,
Choice preserves with home made labels,
Plants and flowers, floral pieces and boquets;
Patchwork quilts and hand made laces,
Knick-knacks for all sorts of places,
And examples of the latest household craze.
Works of art quite amateurish
There are likewise seen to flourish,
And ceramics also, just as like as not;
But the farmer’s cup of pleasure
Is filled to fullest measure
By the genuine agricultural horse trot.

— ANONYMOUS.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) Oct 12, 1891

Tick-tock Goes the Clock

January 3, 2011

THE OLD CLOCK.

GUY CARLTON.

I.

The old clock croons on the sun-kissed wall —
Tick, tock! tick tock!
The merry seconds to minutes call:
Tick, tock! ‘Tis morn.

A maiden sits at the mirror there,
And smiles as she combs her golden hair;
O, in the light but her face is fair!
Tick, tock! tick, tock!

Far over the sea the good ship brings
The lover of whom the maiden sings;
From the orange tree the first leaf springs:
Tick, tock! tick, tock!

II.

The old clock laughs on the flower-decked wall —
Tick, tock! tick, tock!
The rose-winged hours elude their thrall:
Tick, tock! ‘Tis noon!

The lover’s pride and his love are blest;
The maiden is folded to his breast;
On her brow the holy blossoms rest;
Tick, tock! tick, tock!

O thrice, thrice long may the sweet bells chime,
As echoing this thro’ future time!
Still to my heart beats that measured rhyme —
Tick tock! tick, tock!

III.

The old clock moans on the crumbling wall
Tick, tock! tick, tock!
The drear years into eternity fall;
Tick, tock! ‘Tis night!

The thread that yon spider draws with care
Across the gleam of the mirror there,
Seems like the ghost of a golden hair;
Tick, tock! tick, tock!

The sweet bells chime for those that may wed;
The neroll-snow crowns many a head —
But tree and maiden and lover are dead,
Tick, tock! tick, tock!
— Life.

The Oshkosh Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) May 16, 1883


THE KITCHEN CLOCK.

(John Vance Cheney in The Century.)

Knitting is the maid ‘o the kitchen, Milly,
Doing nothing, sits the chore-boy, Billy:
“Seconds reckoned,
Seconds reckoned;
Every minute,
Sixty in it.
Milly, Billy,
Billy, Milly,
Tick-tock, tock-tick,
Nick-knock, knock-nick,
Knockety-nick, nickety-knock: —
Goes the kitchen clock.

Closer to the fire is rosy Milly,
Every whit as close and cozy, Billy:
“Time’s a-flying,
Worth your trying!
Pretty Milly —
Kiss her, Billy!
Milly, Billy,
Billy, Milly,
Tick-tock, tock-tick,
Now — now, quick — quick!
Knockety-nick, nickety-knock” —
Goes the kitchen clock.

Something’s happened; very red is Milly,
Billy boy is looking very silly:
“Pretty misses,
Plenty kisses;
Make it twenty,
Take a plenty.
Billy, Milly,
Milly, Billy,
Right-left, left-right,
That’s right, all right,
Skippety-nick, rippety-knock” —
Jumps the kitchen clock.

Night to night they’re sitting, Milly, Billy’
Oh, the winter winds are wondrous chilly!
“Winter weather,
Close together;
Wouldn’t tarry,
Better marry.
Milly, Billy,
Billy, Milly,
Two-one, one-two,
Don’t wait, ‘twont do,
Knockety-nick, nickety-knock” —
Goes the kitchen clock.

Winters two have gone, and where is Milly?
Spring has come again, and where is Billy?
“Give me credit,
For I did it;
Treat me kindly,
Mind you wind me.
Mr. Billy,
Mistress Milly,
My — Oh, Oh — my,
By-by, by-by,
Nickety-knock, cradle rock” —
Goes the kitchen clock.

The Bismarck Tribune (Bismarck, North Dakota) Sep 19, 1884

My Little Bo-Peep

By S.B. M’Manus

MY Little Bo-Peep is fast asleep,
And her head on my heart is lying;
I gently rock, and the old hall clock
Strikes a knell of the day that’s dying.
But what care I how the hours go by,
Whether swiftly they go or creeping?
Not an hour could be but dear to me,
When my babe on my arm is sleeping.

Her little bare feet, with dimples sweet,
From the folds of her gown are peeping,
And each wee toe like a daisy in blow,
I caress as she lies a-sleeping;
Her golden hair falls over the chair,
Its treasures of beauty unfolding;
I press my lips to her finger tips

That my hands are so tightly holding.
Tick, tock, tick, tock! You may wait, old clock,
It was foolish what I was saying;
Let your seconds stay and your minutes play,
And bid your days go all a-Maying.
O, Time — stand still — let me drink my fill
Of content while my babe is sleeping;
As I smooth her hair m life looks fair,
And to-morrow — I may be weeping.

The Wellsboro Agitator (Weillsboro, Pennsylvania) Jun 28, 1887

CHILDREN’S COLUMN.

TIC-TOCK.

Tick-tock, tick-tock,
Such a busy, busy clock,
All the year you go just so
Never fast and never slow.

Tick-tock, pretty clock,
And this is what you say:
“Never till tomorrow leave
What should be done today.”

You are always in your place
With your hands before your face;
Run and run, and never stop —
Tick-tock, tick-tock.

–[New York World.

Indana Progress (Indiana, Pennsylvania) Dec 2, 1891

The White Brigade.

The old hall clock goes hurrying on:
Tick, tock. ‘Tis getting late!
Tick, tock, tick, tock, hark! one, two, three,
Four, five, six, seven, eight.

The white brigade is marching now,
In every town and street
You hear the patter, patter soft
Of little naked feet.

The girls and boys have left their toys,
And now with sleepy head
Each joins the throng (ten thousand strong,)
Going up stairs to bed.

Sandusky Regiser (Sandusky, Ohio) Feb 23, 1895

The Washington Post – Feb 21, 1913

MY CLOCK.

In the silence of the night,
If I waken with affright
From a dream that’s full of terror and annoy,
There’s a sound that fills my heart
With a melody of art
Fully of beauty, full of pleasure, full of joy.

‘Tis the steady “tick, tick, tock,”
Of my sturdy little clock,
As it sits across the room upon a shelf,
And it says: “Don’t be afraid,
For I’ve closely by you staid
While you were off in the land of dreams yourself.

“With a steady ‘tick, tick, tick,’
I am never tired or sick,
And I count the minutes ever as they fly.
I’m the truest friend you’ve got,
And share your ev’ry lot,
And I’m ready to stand by you till you die.”

It’s a common sort of clock,
But I like its lusty “tock,”
And it fills my soul with courage by its song.
In the storm or cold or rain
I hear its bright refrain
As it faithfully pursue its path along.

For it tells me to be true
To each thing I have to do,
And no matter if the world applaud or scorn;
That full soon must pass the night
And the sweet and precious light
Be unfolded with the coming of the morn.
— Hamilton Jay in Florida Times-Union.

Sandusky Register (Sandusky, Ohio) Jun 1, 1895

THE TALKING CLOCK.

Up in my room, when comes the dark,
My door with care I lock,
And sit down, all my company
My little talking clock.

With round, bright open face it stands
Upon my mantel shelf,
And “tick, tick, tick” — how sweet and low!
Keeps talking to itself;

While loud and clear, that I may hear
When I am out of sight,
It calls to me twelve times each day,
And twelve times every night.

I always listen for its voice —
‘Tis like a silver bell —
And just the thing I need to know
It will be sure to tell:

“Wake up! wake up! ’tis morning light!”
“To bed! the hour is late!”
“The minutes fly! make haste! make haste!”
“Have patience; you must wait!”

My faithful little talking clock!
O If I only knew
Exactly when I ought to speak
And what to say to you,

And could, when I had said enough,
Just stop, without delay,
I might, almost as calm as you,
Be happy all the day!

— Marion Douglass in “Our Little Men and Women.”

The Daily Northwesterm (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Nov 20, 1897

THE FAMILY CLOCK.

Old clock
So tall,
In your niche in the wall,
What is it you say,
As you tick all day,
With your smiling face,
And your polished case?
Tell me, I pray,
Is this what you say?

“Tick, tock,
I’m the family clock,
A hundred years old,
Of good old stock!
Tick, tock,
Good old stock,
A hundred years old,
The family clock!”

Old clock
So tall,
In your niche in the wall,
Have you memories faint
Of dear ladies quaint,
With high powdered hair,
Who tripped up this stair?
Tell me, I pray,
Is this what you say?

“Tick, tock,
I’ve seen many a frock,
And the witchery fair
Of a gleaming lock!
Tick, tock,
Many a frock,
And the witchery fair
Of a gleaming lock!”

Old clock
So tall,
In your niche in the wall,
Do you never feel affright
In the dead of the night
When the winds howl drear,
And strange noises you hear?
Or ell me, I pray,
Is this what you say?

“Tick, tock,
I’m a doughty old clock;
I know no fear;
Let them rage and knock;
Tick, tock,
Rage and knock;
I know no fear —
A doughty old clock.”

Old clock
So tall,
In your niche in the wall,
Will you still tick away,
A hundred years from today,
With your smiling face
And your polished case?
And then, I pray,
Is this what you’ll say?

“Tick, tock,
I’m the family clock,
Two hundred years old,
Of good old stock!
Tick, tock,
Good old stock,
Two hundred years old,
The family clock!”

— Jane D?msfield, in the St. Nicholas

San Antonio Light (San Antonio, Texas) Apr 8, 1900

The Clock.

He stands in a corner from morning till night,
A patient old thing with no feet
His face is as solemn and round as a moon
And oh so exceedingly neat
From breakfast to supper,
Bright on through the day,
“Tick-tock, tick-tock, I am only the clock,
Tick-tock, tick-tock,” he’ll say.

His hands are quite tidy, they grow on his face
When I grow to be big I shall know
Why one is so long and the other so short
And one he moves fast, and one slow,
From breakfast to supper,
Right on through the day.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, I am only the clock,
Tick-tock, tick-tock,” he’ll say.

At night when I’m sleeping he keeps wide awake
To see what the little mice do,
He watches the brownie creep in through the blind
His little red shoes wet with dew
From night-time to daytime,
Right on through the day
“Tick-tock, tick-tock, I am only the clock,
Tick-tock, tick-tock,” he’ll say.

And when it comes morning I wish he would tell,
I ask him but never a trace
Of the wonderful things which he saw in the night
Does he show in his sober old face,
From breakfast to supper
Right on through the day
“Tick-tock, tick-tock, I am only the clock,
Tick-tock, tick-tock,” he’ll say.

Trenton Evening Times (Trenton, New Jersey) Mar 30, 1909

The Old Hall Clock.

What a store of information
You must have in stock,
Not a word of revelation
In your staid “tick-tock.”
You have watched the decades passing as the ships upon the sea,
Stores of knowledge e’er amassing as the generations flee.
Can’t you tell some of your secrets to a little boy like me
But the old hall clock
Answered just:
“Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock.”

Never changing the expression
Of your placid face.
Never making a confession
Any time or place.
Can’t you tell me of the courting you have seen upon the stairs?
Of he stately wedding marches, of the ministers and prayers?
Of he good old squires and damsels who have come and gone in pairs
But the old hall clock
Answered Just:
“Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock.”

It’s for history I’m seeking
And you’ve got to tell.
It’s of father I am speaking
And you might as well.
When a youngster, was he always doing just exactly right?
Did he have to have a licking almost every single night?
Now, you needn’t fear to trust me, for I’ll keep it secret, quite,
But the old hall clock
Answered just:
“Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock.”

Bland recorder of the ages,
If you’ll be so kind,
Turn ahead among Life’s pages,
Tell us what you find.
When you look into the future, tell me what it is you see.
What in just another decade, is this old world going to be?
Tell me, what is going to come of just a little boy like me?
But the old hall clock
Answered just:
“Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock.”

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Dec 19, 1912

Image from flickr – vera 1955

Jens Galtheen/Galthen was born about 1839 in Denmark, and immigrated to America about 1865. On June 24, 1879 he married Helen Lager. His was listed as a jeweler on the 1880 and 1900 census records and his shop was at 415 Water St. in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

THE SILENT CLOCKS.

(By Violet Leigh.)
(In memory of Jeweler Galthen of Water St.)

Silent they stand in a row on the shelf,
Not one moves a hand alone by itself.
Not long ago the ormelu clock
Was merrily saying, “tick-tock, tick-tock”;
And its dainty hands in a charming way
Pointed out the time of day.

The beautiful clock of porcelain
Was also ticking with might and main;
And all the other clocks in the row
Showed one another how to go.
But they’re silent now as death itself
Standing there in a row on the shelf.

Where is the one who made them go?
Jeweler Galthen is lying low.
The pale clock-faces are not more white
Than the face of that aged man tonight.
And the hands of the clocks are not more still
Than his nerveless hands in the grave on the hill.

— Eau Claire, Wis., Nov. 22, 1913.

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Nov 26, 1913

UPDATE: I found an obituary for Mr. Galthen:

OBITUARY

Aged Jeweler Summoned

Jens Galthen, an aged jeweler, who has been carrying on a small business at 415 Water St., died very suddenly yesterday morning, some time between 8:30 and 11 o’clock.

Death is said to have been due to a stroke of appoplexy, the aged man surffering a like stroke some time ago. Mr. Galthen was seen at 8:30 o’clock in the morning at which time he appeared to be in his usual health and spirits. At 11 o’clock, the store was entered by Sidney Robillard, who found the body of the victim of the stroke of appoplexy lying on the floor face down.

The deceased was about 70 years of age. He was a widower and lived alone in the store, a screen separating his living apartment from the store. No known relatives reside in this country. It is learned that relatives live in Copenhagen, Denmark, and County Coroner R.H. Stokes will endeavor to get in communication with them to ascertain what disposition they wish to make of the body.

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Nov 2, 1913

THE CORRUPTED CLOCK.

By EDMUND VANCE COOKE

Some one has made the clock go wrong,
Not in its time, but in its song.
At twelve at night!
Its face is bright
And the sound of its stroke is a soft delight; —

“Tick! tock!
Oh, what a flock!
Flock of long hours that are left in the clock!
Time is unending,
Life is for spending;
What though I strike,
Do as you like!
Tick! tock!
Oh, what a flock!
Do what you will, but don’t look at the clock.”
Oh, kindly clock! had you a robe, I’d surely kiss its him;
Let us be friends forever, clock; aye, even at six A.M.!

But oh! at morning when I yawn
And much desire to slumber on,
Its white face stares,
Its eye-hole glares
And its lean hands point me down the stairs; —

“Tick! tock!
Knickety Knock!
Oh, but such laziness gives me a shock!
Time is for working;
Why are you shirking?
Now, as I strike,
Get up and hike!
Tick! tock!
Oh, what a shock!
Look at me! Look at me! Look at the clock!”
Oh, cursed clock! such two-faced talk I must, and do condemn;
You are so suave at twelve at night, so harsh at six A.M.!

(Copyright, 1919, N.E.A.)

Decatur Review (Decatur, Illinois) Aug 17, 1919

Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jan 27, 1921

***

I sing of clocks that I have known,
In other years, now long since flown,
When I but just a little child,
For many hours was beguiled,
In listening to the tick, tick, tock,
Of one, to me, most wondrous clock.

My father bought that fine old clock
To quite complete our household stock,
When I was but one short year old,
It should be mine, I then was told;
When it wore out, its lovely case,
My little toys, in it to place.
The brilliant peacock on the door,
No bird like it since or before.
It’s good strong tick and ringing strike,
No other clock can sound the like.

Sometimes quaint old clock tinkers came,
To see if it was sick or lame;
They’d shine it up and set it back,
To tick and strike, as strong as ever,
Itinerant tinker were clever,
I would look on and sigh, alack,
“I’ll get my playhouse never, never.”

The years rolled on and strangely on,
Parents, brothers and sisters gone,
Still that old clock with calm, clear face,
Ticks for the remnant of our race;
Has struck the hours of death and birth,
For those dearest to me on earth.
Has through my four score years and one,
And still with undiminished strength,
Bids fair to wear me out at length.

Dear old home clock tick on and on
All my playhouses no ware gone;
I love to see your dear old face,
But no more now covet your case,
You’re worth to us, your weight in gold,
Tick on until your centurys old;
My playhouse I relinquish still,
So beat me to it, if you will.

One old clock with a friendly face,
Greeted me in my new home place;
Through many changing years it told,
Vicissitudes most lives unfold;
Reunions and each glad event,
That marked the way on which we went,
High hopes, and dreams that disappear,
And still that old bronze clock is here.

Another clock so plain and small,
It would not be valued at all;
Yet once it ticked the hours away,
For one who is no longer here,
It has been silent since that day,
A clock may hurt as well as cheer.

A welcome gift, a clock late come,
To wake it’s echoes in our home;
Welcome it is our home within,
It’s muffled strike to slumbers win.
Old clocks are like dear human friends,
They cheer life’s way until it ends.

The clock on old Northwesterns tower,
When chasing trains it marked the hour,
Warned us we would be all too late
Just as we reached the closing gate.
Old station clock of you I sing,
You were a kind and friendly thing.

Our bank clock, how we love its chimes,
Recalling other happy times;
And that one to so many dear,
Who made it possible to hear,
All over this old Arlington,
The echoes of its carrillion,
A treasure is that grand old clock,
May it abide firm as a rock.

There hangs a cheery little clock,
Here on the stairs, with quick tick tock;
It was a gift at Christmas time,
From one now gone to kinder clime
A bright, a cherry little thing
That through the passing hours will bring,
Sweet memories into the mind,
Of the dear giver, every kind.

There’s something odd and whimsical,
About old clocks that thrills us all
Yet no clock in our lives can come,
Like the clock in our childhood home.

— Elinore Crisler Haynes

The Daily Herald (Chicago, Illinois) Aug 10, 1928

A Football (player) Clock

The Times Recorder (Zanesville, Ohio) Nov 13, 1925

Good-Night Stories

By MAX  TRELL

Tick-tock,
Wind the clock.
Tick-tock,
Snap the lock.
Tick-tock,
Shut your eyes.
Tick-tock,
How time flies!

— Shadow Sayings.

The Athen Messenger (Athen, Ohio) Sep 19, 1930

Good-Night Stories

By MAX  TRELL

Tick-tock
Wind the clock
Knock-knock
Snap the lock,
Clack-clack
I won’t be back,
I’m taking the train
On the railroad track.

— Shadow Song.

Van Wert Daily Bulletin (Van Wert, Ohio) Aug 10, 1932