Image from http://fragmentsfromfloyd.com

In November.

The ruddy sunset lies
Banked along the west,
In flocks with sweep and rise
The birds are going to rest.

The air clings and cools,
And the reeds look cold
Standing above the pools
Like rods of beaten gold.

The flaunting golden-rod
Has lost her wordly mood,
She’s given herself to God
And taken a nun’s hood.

The wild and wanton horde
That kept the summer revel
Have taken the serge and cord
And given the slip to the Devil.

The winter’s loose somewhere,
Gathering snow for a fight;
From the feel of the air
I think it will freeze tonight.

– DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) Oct 24, 1891

Image from www.illusionsgallery.com

AUTUMN.

No sound but the beechnuts falling
Through the green and the yellow leaves,
And the rainy west wind calling
The swallows from the eves,
No fading trees are shedding
Their golden splendor yet;
But a sunset gleam is spreading,
That seems like a regret.

And the crimson-breasted birdie
Sings his sweet funeral hymn
On the oak-tree grim and sturdy,
In the twilight gathering dim,
Death comes to pomp and glory;
They fade the sunny hours;
And races old in story
Pass like the summer flowers.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Oct 19, 1872

Image from www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net

Fall Time in Georgia.

Through summer, we’ve been toastin’,
But now we’re on the way
Where the sweet potato’s roastin’
An’ the cabin fiddles play.

The cane will soon be gindin’,
An’ the boys’ll have their fun;
The hunter’s horn is windin’
An’ the rabbit’s on the run!

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Aug 12, 1895

Obviously, the fiddler in the picture is not from Georgia, but I thought it was a great picture anyway. While searching for it, I came across a picture of a fiddler from Georgia by the name of Robert Allen Sisson. You can read about him in The Old Time Fiddlers Hall of Fame. To the left of his biographical sketch is an audio link of him playing Rocky Road to Dublin.

Image from www.redbubble.com

THE DESERTED BARN.

AGAINST the gray November sky
Beside the weedy lane it stands,
To newer fields they all pass by
The farmers and their harvest hands.

There is no lack within the mow;
The racks and mangers fall to dust;
The roof is crumbling in, but thou,
My soul, inspect it and be just.

Once from the green and winding vale
The sheaves were born to deck its floor;
The blue-eyed milkmaid filled her pail,
Then gently closed the stable door.

Once on the frosty wintry air
The sound of flail afar was borne,
And from his natural pulpit there
The preacher cock called up the morn.

But all are gone; the harvest men
Work elsewhere now for higher pay;
The blue-eyed milkmaid married Ben,
The hand, and went to Ioway.

The flails are banished by machines,
Which thresh the grain with equine power,
The senile cock no longer weans
The folks from sleep at dawning hour.

They slumber late beyond the hill,
In that new house which spurns the old;
In gorgeous stalls the kine are still,
The horse is blanketed from the cold.

But I from ostentatious pride
And hollow pomp of riches turn,
To must that ancient barn beside;
Pause, pilgrim, and its lessons learn,

So live that thou shalt never  make
A millpond of the mountain farm,
Nor for a gaudy stable take
The timbers of the ruined barn!

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Aug 10, 1872

The Fannie Dugan (Image from Portsmouth Public Library)

The inspiration for this post was the 1874 article entitled An Appeal, written by the widow of Capt. John McAllister, pleading with the public to not allow the Fannie Dugan’s new competition to run her out of business, as this steamboat was her sole source of income since the death of her husband. It turns out the Fannie Dugan was one of the most popular steamboats running in the Portsmouth area during the 1870’s.

**********

RIVER NEWS.
The Mountain Belle leaves for Catlettsburg, every day at 2 o’clock. She was purchased a few days since, by John McAllister, from the Big Sandy Packet Company — price $15,000.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Aug 6, 1870

**********

Frank Morgan and Capt. McAllister of the Mountain Belle, have gone to Cincinnati to get an outfit for their new boat, the Fannie Dugan. They will return Wednesday.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 6,  1872

**********

The Fannie Dugan was presented with a new bell by Thomas Dugan.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 27, 1872

Thomas Dugan (Image from Portsmouth Public Library)

Some background on where the Fannie Dugan got her name:

(I) Thomas Dugan. grandfather of Dr. Thomas (2) Dugan, of Huntington, was born, according to one tradition, in Ireland, and according to another in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When a young man he removed to Portsmouth, Ohio, where he engaged in mercantile business, later becoming a leading banker of that city. He was president of the Farmers’ National Bank of Portsmouth, and loaned the money with which the site of the city of Huntington was purchased. He married Levenia Mackoy, born in Kentucky, and they were the parents of two children: i. James S., of whom further. 2. Fannie, became the wife of J. C. Adams, a prominent citizen of Portsmouth, and died in 1885, at the age of thirty-two years, leaving two children : Earl and William, now engaged in the manufacture of fire-arms and fire-works in Portsmouth.

Fannie Dugan (Image from Portsmouth Public Library)

The steamer “Fannie Dugan” was named in compliment to Mrs. Adams, and her father, Thomas (i) Dugan, gave two hundred and fifty dollars for the silver to be used in casting its bell, and also presented the piano to form part of its equipment. At the time of his death, a sudden one occurring in 1873, ‘”IS ^^’^s in the prime of life. The old Dugan residence still stands in Portsmouth, on the corner of Chillicothe and Eighth streets, and is one of the finest specimens of colonial architecture extant. Mrs. Dugan died in 1894, in Huntington.

West Virginia and its People (1913)
Author: Miller, Thomas Condit; Maxwell, Hu, joint author
Volume: 2
Publisher: New York, Lewis Historical Pub. Co.

**********

The Fannie Dugan, on her second trip out, broke a camrod and returned to this place on one wheel, where she is to remain until the ice thins out.

The new and elegant steamer Fannie Dugan has purchased a beautiful Valley Gem piano of D.S. Johnston.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Feb 17, 1872

**********

Capt. John McAllister, and not Jack as we erroneously stated, is sick, but recovering slowly.

Capt. Jack McAllister has sold out his interest in the Fannie Dugan at the rate of $24,000 for the boat, and has purchased the Mountain Belle for $10,000. Capt. McAllister has refitted and refurnished the Belle, and will leave here with her for Pittsburg next Monday, the 22d. We wish Capt. Jack abundant success.

The Fannie Dugan brought 400 barrels of malt from Pomeroy last Monday.

NOTICE TO SHIPPERS AND THE TRAVELING PUBLIC.

The Mountain Belle refurnished and refitted, will leave the city, at the foot of Market street, on Monday next, for Pittsburg and return. Parties having goods to ship to any way landings, or through to Pittsburg, are requested to ship by the Belle.

First class accommodations for passengers.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jul 20, 1872

**********

Captain John McAllister is prostrated at his residence in Springville, Ky., but hopes are entertained of his recovery.

Captain Jack McAllister has sold his interest in the Mountain Belle To Robert Cook, and purchased an eighth interest in the Fannie Dugan from his brother. The Dugan has been repainted, and with Captain Jack on the roof, is running in the Portsmouth and Cincinnati trade.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Oct 19, 1872

**********

Capt. John McAllister is still confined to his bed.

The Fannie Dugan has returned to her Portsmouth and Guyandotte trade.

The Mountain Belle is doing a thriving business just now, and Capt. Ripley is looking up freight industriously. Capt. Jack McAllister is on the roof, and the Belle is a good boat to travel on or ship by.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Oct 26, 1872

Death of Captain John McAllister.

CAPTAIN JOHN McALLISTER, of Springville, Ky., and well and favorably known as a steamboat captain, died last Monday morning at 8:40 A.M. Captain McAllister had a host of friends on the river and shore, and his loss is one that will be felt by a large circle of friends and relatives.

He was a native of Lewis county, Ky., and was forty-eight years of age at the time of his death. About the year 1864 he purchased the Portsmouth and Springville ferry and removed to the latter place. He afterwards owned the steamers Jonas Powell and Mountain Belle, and last fall built the sidewheel steamer Fannie Dugan, which he commanded at the time he was taken ill.

Although a resident of Greenup county, he took a deep interest in the growth and business prosperity of our city, and by his liberality and enterprise he provided Portsmouth with excellent up-river packets, and did much to increase the trade of the city in that direction. The deceased always bore an irreproachable character, and was a man of generous impulses. The remains were taken to his old home, in Lewis county, on Tuesday for interment.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Nov 9, 1872

**********

THE Fannie Dugan has taken the fancy collar off her pipes and looks as large as the Great Republic. She blew out a cylinder head last Wednesday on her up trip, and returned here for repairs.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Apr 5, 1873

**********

Ten couple of Guyan lads and lasses came down on a pleasure trip on the Fannie Dugan last Wednesday. They danced all night, and enjoyed themselves hugely. Clerks, Simon Balmert and Robert McAllister, joined in the Terpsichorean excitement.

Quite a change has been made in the steamer Fannie Dugan. Mr. James Bagby, for many years connected with the commercial interests of Portsmouth, and at present in the mercantile business just across the river, has purchased of Mrs. McAllister, widow of the late Captain John McAllister, one half of the boat, at the rate of $24,000. He has placed Captain Jack McAllister on the roof, and under his command the merchants and traveling public will find the Fannie Dugan the steamer to patronize. These gentlemen have done much to keep up the wholesale trade of Portsmouth and Ironton, the boat having been built under the immediate superintendancy of Captain McAllister to meet the demand for a strictly local freight and passenger packet. So long as they give satisfaction, they are entitled to the entire patronage of shippers at this place and points on the river between here and Guyau.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jul 12, 1873

Charleston WV Capitol 1870 (Image from www.legis.state.wv.us)

TO CHARLESTON AND RETURN:

A Cheerful Lunatic Writes us a Letter — He finds out how far it is to Gallipolis.

OFF GREENUP,
Monday, in the evening,
May 26, 1873.

EDITOR TIMES — Thinking it would interest your readers, I have concluded to write you a few lines  about (we keep the type standing of all letters up to this place. It don’t fail once in ten thousand times — EDITOR,) a pleasure trip on the Fannie Dugan to Charleston and return. I seat myself to the task. (A large reward offered for a correspondent who will stand up and write us a letter. — ED.)

Through the kindness of Capt. Wm. Ripley, several young folks were invited to take passage last Saturday evening, and at 6 o’clock we rounded out and were soon steaming up the beautiful river. At Haverbill, Ironton, and elsewhere, others came aboard. The distance from Portsmouth to Gallipolis is ninety miles, and from thence to Charleston, sixty-four miles.

MUSIC AND DANCING.

After supper the table was cleared and music, with its voluptuous swell, set many happy lads and lassies tripping the animated toe, which same continued to trip until midnight, when, to avoid mutilating the fourth paragraph on the Mosaical tablet of stone, fond pillows were pressed, and placid sleep, nature’s uncopyrighted and unpatented panacea, was poured upon the weary sons and daughters of Terpsichore.

HOW MEMORY FAILS.

I had forgotten to observe that at Ironton the gentlemanly and accommodating wharfmaster, W.G. Bradford, and lady got aboard, spoke kindly of you, and complimented the TIMES very highly.

We reached Gallipolis Sunday morning at 9 A.M., and taking a Kanawba pilot, departed at 10 A.M. The Kanawba is a meandering stream, interspersed with beautiful islands and Sunday fishermen. Very few towns on the river from Point Pleasant to Charleston. Landed at Charleston at 4:30 P.M.

CHARLESTON SLANDERED.

Charleston is the capital of West Virginia, and if a man don’t care what he says, it is a beautiful city. The population is liberal, and about one-third of it is negroes. The streets are thirty feet wide and two feet deep. Gorgeous mud holes adorn the principal streets, and the delicious musical concatenations of whippoorwill and frog produce an endless chain of discord at all hours.

The artistic crossings are sawed logs raised a foot above the streets, and the dull monotony of smooth carriage riding is broken by the logs and the mud holes. Only one Charlestonian was out riding last Sunday with his dulcines. His buggy was upset, and when his hat was fished out of a mud hole he gave two negroes three dollars to take it home in a wheelbarrow. They have their sidewalks in their cellars. The State House is a magnificent old-fashioned mammoth building, a cross between a hospital and a penitentiary, and is romantically situated in a clover pasture, with no pavements or sidewalks, and in wet weather the Reps go over on stilts or in dugouts. The pious Charlestonians don’t drink wine, ale, beer, or even whisky, on Sunday, but Boggs, (everybody has heard of Boggs,) keeps a soda fountain on Front street, and “flies” are great things to get in a glass of soda water, especially when the soda man hears you wink.

LOVE AND A FREE ADVERTISEMENT.

We left Charleston at 4:30 P.M., nothing of importance occurring between that place and Gallipolis, except the assiduous love-making of two Portsmouth gentlemen to a brace of Gallipolis damsels. It is hinted that certain young ladies of this city should not trust their fickle lovers away from home, especially when the Gallipolitian senoritas are in their company.

Captain Ripley and Simon Balmert, Clerk, were attentive and obliging, and it was hereby resolved that as long as the Fannie Dugan is officered by them, passengers will be pleased, freight will be cared for properly, and the bird of the period, the goose, will be dizzily elevated. The steward set tempting tables, and after midnight Sunday night dancing was renewed, and everybody reached Portsmouth happy.

The Fannie Dugan is the first sidewheel steamer that has been to Charleston for many years, and made the run from Gallipolis to Charleston and return in less time than ever made before by any boat.
SOLBAC.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) May 31, 1873

**********

MRS. McALLISTER, widow of the late John McAllister, has purchased the one-eight interest in the Fannie Dugan, owned by Mr. Robert Bagby. Capt. McAllister will continue on the roof, and no more accommodating boatman ever walked the roof of an Ohio river steamboat than Captain Jack. The Fannie Dugan will be off the docks and resume her trade the early part of next week.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Aug 9, 1873

**********

THE Fannie Dugan has temporarily quit the trade. The logs, rocks and bars of low water were too thick for so good a little boat. She leave this evening on a special trip to Cincinnati. Passengers will take in the Exposition Monday and return the same evening.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Sep 20, 1873

**********

MRS. McALLISTER has repurchased J. Bagby’s interest in the Fannie Dugan, and the gallant Capt. Ripley is on the roof and will look after the interests of the steamer. Capt. Bagby will superintend the new wharfboat and attend to his store on Second street.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Nov 29, 1873

**********

Capt. A.J. McAllister will go on the roof of the Fannie Dugan next Monday, and Mate Gray and the old Steward will ship with him. This gives the Fannie her old crew again.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Dec 27, 1873

**********

An Appeal

To the Merchants and Manufacturers of Portsmouth, Ohio, and elsewhere in the Portsmouth and Guyandotte trade, and the traveling public:

PAINFUL as is the necessity of making an appeal of this kind to you, under the circumstances I am compelled to do so, for reasons which appear herein. My late husband, Capt. John McAllister did more in his day to build up a trade between Portsmouth and the cities and towns along the river from this place to Guyandotte then any other man on the Ohio river. That his action tended largely to increase the wholesale trade of the city of Portsmouth, I think none will deny. He built the Fannie Dugan as a first class packet, which has worked in the interests of the Portsmouth and Guyandotte trade when no other boat has done so. Upon the death of Capt. John McAllister he left me the Fannie Dugan and the trade he had built up, my only means of support for myself and children.

Since his death a new boat has come in, making an effort to drive me out of the trade, or in the event of my staying to run me in debt and take away my only means for supporting my family. The action of her owners is hardly fair, when the clerk of the new boat when he sold his interest in the Fannie Dugan sold his good will in this trade. While his ingratitude to my late husband could be passed by, his effort to deprive me of my only income does not certainly recommend him to the people of Portsmouth, who knew my late husband so well, and remember him as only a clerk who has obtained the greater part of his money by the kind-heartedness and generosity of the dead man whose widow he is wronging.

While the name of the opposition boat should make citizens feel proud of her, the action of her officers and owners is too expressive of the motive that led them to adopt the name, and hence such as to lead the shippers of the city to give the matter some consideration. They are men able to make their living, and with a new boat it would be more creditable in them to build them a trade from Portsmouth to elsewhere than to attempt to wrest it from a woman.

I have aimed to deserve your support, and the means necessary to spend in an effort to save my boat from being crowded out, have been invested in a large and commodious wharf-boat, for the better preservation of freight shipped to and from the city. This I have only cited to show the merchants and business men of the city that nothing has been left undone to further their interests and the interests of shippers along the river.

As it is used against me by the opposition that I have only to blame myself because I would not put my boat in the Portsmouth and Pomeroy trade, I would say that the proposition was carefully considered, and at the advice of experienced business men and river men, it was made plain that a boat in that trade would lose money to begin with.

I have been thus plain in presenting these facts to you because I have felt the effects of the late panic, and have lost several hundred dollars by the partial failure of one who had all my earnings in his possession. I hope, then, those to whom I appeal will pardon me for so doing when my reason for it are so well taken, and that they will continue the liberal patronage heretofore extended to me, which I shall aim to deserve.

I have secured Capt. A.J. McAllister to command. He has done much to extend the trade of Portsmouth in the past, and will do all he can in the future, having served in the Portsmouth and Guyandotte trade for many years. The clerk, Simon P. Balmert, is a resident of Portsmouth, is accommodating and reliable, and known to you all, and needs no recommendation at my hands.

In conclusion, if the opposition, with their new boat, want to gain laurels, I put it to the gallant gentlemen of Portsmouth if they had not better try it in another field, and if they are successful the hand of scorn wouldn’t be pointed at them, and it couldn’t then be said, “Oh! they only succeeded in defeating a woman.” In the days of chivalry men fought men, have they degenerated so far that women will be called upon to defend themselves from those who should be their protectors?

MRS. CATHERINE McALLISTER.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 10, 1874

**********

RIVER NEWS. The Rankin has taken the place of the Fannie Dugan, and the latter is now running in the Cincinnati and Manchester trade.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Sep 19, 1874

**********

MRS. CATHERINE McALLISTER, Mrs. Nannie Thomson, and Miss Lennie McAllister, went up to Huntington on the Fannie Dugan last Saturday, had a very pleasant trip, and returned Monday morning.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 22, 1876

**********

AN excursion party went up on the Fannie Dugan last Friday. Mr. and Mrs. John Thompson, Mrs. Nan Thomson, Mrs. Catherine McAllister who chaperoned Miss Lennie McAllister, and Miss Helen and Kate Morton were the guests immediately from Springville. Miss Nannie and Sallie, daughters of Capt. A.J. McAllister, accompanied by Miss Pet Thomson, got on the boat at their home, above Springville.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Feb 19,  1876

**********

The steamer Fannie Dugan will extend her trip to Pomeroy to-day, with the genial Balmert and Bob McAllister in the office, and Capt. Jack on the roof. It is hinted that a grand excursion to Parkersburg is contemplated next Saturday, but of this we are not certain.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) May 13, 1876

**********

The colored population of the city will give a picnic at the grove opposite Ironton, next Tuesday. The Scioto and Fannie Dugan will convey passengers. There will be a vast crowd present.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jul 29, 1876

City of Ironton (steamer) (Image from www.riverboatdaves.com)

Important changes have taken place in the Portsmouth and Pomeroy Packet Co.’s  line, since last report, the new steamer City of Ironton taking the place of the Fannie Dugan, the Dugan in place of the Scioto, and the Scioto daily from Huntington to Pomeroy. There is no change in the crews. Capt. Jack McAllister commands the Dugan, with Will Waters clerk, Capt. Geo. Bay commands the City of Ironton, with Mr. Fuller in charge of the office.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Feb 28, 1880

**********

Marine Midgets.

The Fannie Dugan is out now, and ready for her run. The boat has been overhauled, repainted, and presents a fine appearance.

The Scioto, which has been running in the place of the Fannie Dugan, will resume her former trade, from Huntington to Pomeroy.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Nov 20, 1880

**********

THE Bay Brothers are making regular time with their Portsmouth & Pomeroy packets, the B.T. Enos and Fannie Dugan.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Feb 4, 1882

St. Johns River Map - 1876 (Image from Wikipedia)

Departure of the Fannie Dugan for Florida.

The staunch and reliable Ohio river packet, Fannie Dugan, has been sold by her owners to Capt. C.B. Smith, who will take her to Florida, in a short time, to run in the St. John’s river trade. The Dugan made her last trip from Pomeroy Saturday evening, starting Sunday morning for Cincinnati where she was delivered to her new owner, and put upon Capt. Coffin’s ways, to be repaired before taking her long trip to the South. The price received is understood to be $7,500, which is considered an extra good sale.

The Fannie Dugan was eminently a Portsmouth boat, having made this city the lower terminus of her tri-weekly trips ever since she was built in 1871. In that year her hull was constructed at Ironton, the machinery and cabin being added at our wharf. Her original owners were Capt. John McAllister, Frank Morgan, S.P. Balmert and Capt. “Jack” McAllister, the latter gentleman acting as her Captain from that time until the sale last week. The cost of putting her upon the river was about $20,000 and for more than ten years she made profitable trips from Portsmouth to Huntington, or Guyandotte, and return. The Dugan always made money for her owners — the net earnings during many busy seasons of her career being $1,000 a week. She was a fast boat, well furnished and manned, and was very popular along the route. Numerous changes were made in her owners ?p during the time she was in the trade, Messrs. George and William Bay, S.P. Balmert, William Jones, Wash Honshell and H.W. Bates, of Riverton owning her at the time of the transfer — the two last name gentle men having the controlling interest.

It is understood that no boat will be put in the place of the Fannie Dugan until the completion of the Bay Brothers’ Louise, now being finished at Ironton.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jun 17, 1882

Railroad Wharf on St. Johns River - Florida (Image from www.taplines.net)

CHARLES W. ZELL has returned from his trip to Florida, greatly pleased with what he saw and experienced. He was at Sanford, and saw the Portsmouth men who are working there, and says they are greatly pleased with the country and have made up their minds to remove their families and make it their home. He was on the Chesapeake, and saw Captain and Mrs. Maddy. The Fannie Dugan was run into by an ocean vessel and sunk, and is a total loss. An attempt will be made to get our her machinery and put it into a sternwheel boat.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Feb 27, 1886

**********

Read an account of:

FANNIE DUGAN’S 1882 VOYAGE TO FLORIDA (pdf) HERE

**********

A good article with pictures:

PADDLEWHEELERS ON THE ST JOHNS
c.2005 by Virginia M. Cowart  LINK HERE

(note: if the above link doesn’t work, try THIS ONE and just scroll down)

**********

A great collection of steamboat photographs can be found here:

UW La Crosse Historic Steamboat Photographs LINK

Specifics about the Fannie Dugan (including picture) HERE (same site)

Market Street - 1865 - Portsmouth, Ohio

Image from the Portsmouth Library photograph collection.

Chronology for the City of Portsmouth for 1871 by Weeks.

1st week. Mariner stole a pig.
2d week. A landlord was married and serenaded.
3d week. The Tribune don’t believe in spirits.
4th week. The town clock froze up.
5th week. The ground hog came and went.
6th week. Several want to be postmasters.
7th week. Some more fellows want to be P.M.’s.
8th week. Only one got to be P.M.
9th week. Wharf-boat moved further down town.
10th week. Big fire in town; mush and milk supper.
11th week. The TIMES got burned out last week by that big fire.
12th week. It rained Monday.
13th week. Sheriff outruns a jail-bird and catches him.
14th week. Cards are written freely, and the weather is delightful.
15th week. People get saw-dust for the queer. Sheriff takes that chap to Columbus. He won’t run much.
16th week. Irontonians drink about all the beer in this place.
17th week. Had an earthquake along about this time somewhere.
18th week. It is May-day this week.
19th week. The schools are going ahead now.
20th week. Several fellows had been taking it straight. In swapping off with the Mayor he got boot, also. Green cucumbers are ripe now.
21st week. The Ironton Journal man blew the end out of a six inch water pipe serenading these office.
22d week. A boy tried to crawl through that pipe this week.
23d week. Getting ready for the Fourth of July.
24th week. Some more getting ready, and five dog fights.
25th week. Two potato bugs captured.
26th week. More Fourth of July coming.
27th week. A colored deck hand wouldn’t own the baby.
28th week. Looking out for circuses.
29th week. Another circus coming.
30th week. A fellow went up in a balloon. He come down again.
31st week. Another circus coming.
32d week. Going to have a ni**er show.
33d week. Another circus coming.
34th week. Look out for water melons.
35th week. The Germans didn’t deify Horton.
36th week. Bad on mosquitoes.
37th week. Its New Year’s by brevet* this time.
38th week. Mail train comes in some times.
39th week. We’ve got a live peanut roaster.
40th week. Sol Smith Russell is coming.
41st week. If ever I cease to love.
42d week. Look out for water works.
43d week. Straw pile burned.
44th week. MAIL TRAIN ON TIME.
45th week. Col. Kurney has a buffaloss.
46th week. How are you musquito?
47th week. The martins have lit out.
48th week. An old delinquent, having recovered from a sick spell, paid his subscription.
49th week. The man will have good health now.
50th week. Christmas is coming.
51st week. The compiler of this chronology begins his labors.
52d week. He completes it, and the old year lights out.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 13, 1872

*****

* From the legal dictionary at The Free Dictionary by FARLEX:

BREVET. In France, a brevet is a warrant granted by the government to authorize an individual to do something for his own benefit, as a brevet d’invention, is a patent to secure a man a right as inventor.

This definition seemed to make the most sense, given the context above.

The following news articles isn’t funny, but I ran across it looking for an advertisement for the Robinson Circus, and since it was mentioned in the year’s recap above, I thought I would include it here:

Balloon Ascension — The Balloon Goes Up and the Aeronaut Comes Down — A Spectator Injured.

THE balloon ascension which was announced to take place on Wednesday, in connection with Robinson’s circus, terminated in a serious accident. A large crowd was present to witness the ascension. Everything was pronounced ready and the aeronaut called out to “let go.” The balloon started with a rapid whirl, and the basket striking one of the poles used in supporting the balloon while filling, was torn from the balloon, and the aeronaut, Geo. Augenstall, was precipitated forty feet to the ground. A thrill of horror ran through the crowd, and alarm was depicted on every countenance.

He was immediately picked up and conveyed within the tent. Dr. Bing being called in, it was found that no bones were broken, though he was badly bruised.The extent of his injuries could not be ascertained, as the shock to his system was frightful, and no doubt resulted in internal injuries. He was removed to the Legler House and yesterday was taken down on the steamer Andes to Cincinnati, where he resides.

The balloon alighted near Mr. Bell’s residence, in the northeast limits of the city.

At the same time the above occurred on of the poles fell among the crowd. Several were more or less hurt, and one, a young man named George Brown, known as “Dad” Brown, was dangerously injured, the pole striking him upon the shoulder and back. He has been improving, however, and it is thought he will recover. It is a wonder several were not killed outright.

Aeronauts have an unpleasant experience at Portsmouth. Last year the one with De Haven’s circus, who made the ascension, alighted in the middle of the Ohio river and barely escaped drowning.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) July 29, 1871

Image from www.portsmouth.lib.oh.us

Fatal Accident Last Night!

CAPT. JNO. PARSONS

Falls Down the Stairway of the Little Grand Theatre, and Receives Fatal Injuries

A DISTRESSING accident occurred last night, between the hours of ten and eleven o’clock, at the Little Grand, which will doubtless result fatally. Capt. John Parsons, pilot on the steamer Logan, who had been attending the variety theater, over the Little Grand saloon, during the acts, started to go down stairs, and having but one leg, and somewhat in his cups, stumbled and fell to the bottom, receiving spinal injuries from which his physicians, Drs. Mussey and Davidson, think he cannot recover.

A TIMES reporter found him at one o’clock this morning, in the rear of the saloon, laid out on two tables, breathing heavily and unconscious. A sympathizing crowd stood around, and every moment it looked as if he would die in a saloon before a place could be found for him at that hour of night. Dr. Davidson was still in attendance.

Parsons lives in Huntington, and has a wife and three children. He is an old steamboat pilot in the Portsmouth and Huntington trade, running on the Dugan and Scioto, but for the last two weeks on the Logan.  He built the Viola. He lost his right leg by amputation some fifteen years ago, from an injury received by a line.

River Scene - Portsmouth, Ohio

LATER.

At twenty minutes to two, Parsons was removed to the Europa House, where he lies unconscious at this writing, with no hope of his recovery.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Nov 1, 1879

West End View - Portsmouth, Ohio

Portsmouth Public Library (postcard collection can be found here)

1879
LOCAL CHRONOLOGY
FOR THE YEAR.

OCTOBER [excerpt]

31st. Capt. John Parsons, pilot on the steamer Logan, a one-legged man, while in an intoxicated condition, falls down the stairway of the Little Grand theatre, fracturing his skull, and causing his death the following day.

NOVEMBER.

14th. Condemnation of the Little Grand Theatre Hall.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Dec 27, 1879

Portsmouth Times Advertisement 1870

CAPT. LAFE SICKLES‘ new packet, James Fisk, Jr., came up Sunday, fully furnished and equipped, and took her place in her trade Monday morning. She is a beauty, being the finest finished boat of the class ever equipped at Cincinnati. She is light of draught, swift, and elegant — just the boat for the trade. Her hull was built at Concord, Ky., by Taylor & Shearer, and is 130 feet in length, 26 feet beam, 31 feet over all, and 5 feet hold. The cabin is the work of M. Wise & Co., Ironton; painting by O. Hardin, Portsmouth; landscaping by John Leslie. She has three chandeliers, brought from the East, at a cost of $130 each. Her cabin contains thirty staterooms, and on the door of each is a handsome landscape. Her skylights are made to serve a new feature in advertising, as each one contains the advertisement of some business firm along the line, and at each end of her route. The office is at the front of the cabin, and is of black walnut, and will be graced by a life-sized portrait of her commander. She was built expressly for the trade, at a cost of near $15,000, and is owned by W.P. Ripley, W.A. McFarlin, and W.L. Sickles, all of Portsmouth.

1870 Census Record - Portsmouth, Ohio

She will carry the mail between Portsmouth and Pomeroy, making three trips a week, and will be officered as follows: Captain W.L. Sickles; Clerks, W.A. McFarlin and Doc. Hurd; Pilots, John Parsons and Ed. Williamson; Engineers, Jacob Henler and Frank Neil; Mate, William Kennet.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jul 9, 1870

Portsmouth Times - Feb 1872

Sad Accident.

CAPTAIN W.L. SICKLES died last Saturday night under very peculiar circumstances. His wife was visiting her father, and he died alone, with nothing but the silent evidence of appearances to interpret the manner in which he died.

The bed chamber was a small one, and in one part of it was the bed, a bureau near it, and between the bureau and bed Captain Sickles had placed a chair, on which he had put a dipper of water. It appears that he had gone to bed naturally enough. His vest had been hung on a nail, the key of the door laid on the bureau, his coat hung on the back of a chair, and his pants lay on the floor.

Sunday forenoon when he was found, he lay with his face in a pool of blood, between the chair and the bureau, one leg and part of his body on the chair, and the other leg under the bed and partly on the chair, wedged between the two, the collar of his shirt sunk in his throat, producing strangulation and hemorrhage. The print of the dipper was on his leg where he had fallen on it, and the water was still in it when he was found, showing that he died in the exact position in which he fell. The following is the

VERDICT OF THE JURY.

We the undersigned jurors impanneled and sworn on the ?th day of January 1872, at the Township of Wayne in the County of Scioto ???? of ????, ?? George S. Pur?ell, Coroner……[too hard too read]….of Portsmouth, Ohio, on the 7th day of January A.D. 1872 came to his death, — after having heard the evidence and examined the body, we do find that the deceased came to his death by accidental strangulation.

THOS S. HAIL?
RALPH W. FA?DEN
J.W. ROCK?OLD
FRANKLIN ????
CHARLES C. SALSBURY,
C C ROW ??

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 13, 1872

The Brooklyn Daily Eagle - Feb 21, 1872

THERE is a remarkable coincidence in the death of Col. Fisk and Captain Sickles. Captain Sickles had a high regard for Col. Fisk, and named his steamer after him. Col. Fisk appreciating the compliment, forwarded a handsome set of colors for the boat. Captain Sickles was found dead at about the hour Sunday forenoon that Fisk expired.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 13, 1872

*****

On Google Books:

The Robber Barons: The Great American Capitalists, 1861-1901
By Matthew Josephson

Page 134: Reference to James Fisk, Jr. being called the “Prince of Erie.”

*****

NOTE: Capt. Sickles full name was William Lafayette Sickles, based on the name variations from different sources.

….und nun zur anderen Dollar Rolle, die gestern eingetroffen ist:

1979 erschien in den USA  der sog. Susan B. Anthony Dollar. Eine silberfarbene Münze, nur geringfügig größer als der amerische Quarter (1/4 Dollar Münze) . Allein diese Tatsache führte damals zu ständigen Verwechselungen im normalen Zahlungsverkehr und somit war diese Dollar-Münze in den USA  nicht sehr beliebt .

Rückseite:

Susan B. Anthony (1820 – 1906 )  war eine Vorkämpferin der amerikanischen Frauenrechtsbewegung. Weil sie sich erdreistete bei den Präsidentschaftswahlen 1872 eine Stimme abzugeben, wurde ein Aufsehen eregender Prozess wegen unrechtmäßiger Wahlbeeinflussung gegen sie geführt. Überzeugt von ihrem Ziel, das Wahlrecht für Frauen in den USA durchzusetzen, starb Susan B. Anthony 1906 in Rochester,NY. 14 Jahre nach Ihrem Tod, war es dann soweit : 1920 wurde das bundesweite Frauenwahlrecht eingeführt.

Link : http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Susan_B._Anthony

Die ausgesägte Münze in Luxusausführung mit allen Details:

Wertseite:

Ein auf dem Mond landeneder Weißkopfseeadler mit der Erdkugel im Hintergrund war  das Symbol der Apollo 11 Mission aus dem Jahre 1969. Also eine Art Gedenkprägung zum 10 jährigen Jubileum der amerikanischen Mondlandung.

Beide Münzseiten symbolisieren einen typisch amerikanischen Urgedanken: Alles ist machbar!

 Zum Thema Wahlrecht der Frau haben auch andere Länder Münzen herausgegeben, welche ich z.T. auch im Münzschmuck Sortiment führe:

England 2003  50 Pence, GIVE WOMAN THE VOTE

Finnland 2006  2 Euro  100 Jahre  Wahlrecht der Frau

HELLO

If you don’t know the story of the Mary Celeste you’re missing out on one of  the largest maritime mysteries in recorded history.  The brigantine was found abandoned in the North Atlantic between the Azores and Portugal on the 4th of December, 1872.  Missing were the captain, Benjamin Briggs, his wife Sarah, their two year old daughter, Sophia, and the rest of the ships crew of seven.  Briggs’ seven year old son, Arthur, was left at home with his grandmother.  Briggs had a brother, Oliver, who often sailed with him but did not make the trip bound for Genoa, Italy.

The Mary Celeste was discovered by the Dei Gratia, a Canadian vessel under Captain David Morehouse, a personal friend of the Mary Celeste’s Captain, Benjamin Briggs.  The Dei Gratia left New York City on the 15th of November, eight days after the Mary Celeste set sail on her voyage.  Dei Gratia discovered a ship under full sail which was obviously in trouble.  She tried to hail the ship but received no response.  As she advanced on the ship her crew realized the endangered vessel was the Mary Celeste.

Once aboard the Mary Celeste, the Dei Gratia crew found the ship completely deserted.  The only lifeboat on the vessel was gone although it looked as if it were launched, not ripped away.   You may read varying accounts of the conditions aboard the Mary Celeste but the facts are as follows:

The ship was in good order, and had not suffered severely from the weather, although some of the sails were slightly torn.  A meal was cooking on the stove but the dishes were properly washed and stored.  A vial of oil was supposedly sitting upright on a sewing machine, indicating that the seas had been calm, and a clock was still ticking on the wall.  The captain’s personal effects were on board, and toys were on his bed, as if a child had been playing there.  The cargo of 1,700 barrels of alcohol was intact, although there was three and a half feet of water in the hold.  However, the ships papers, except for the captain’s logbook, were missing, as were the navigation instruments.  A sword was found hanging on the wall with blood (or rust) stains on it.  A six months’ supply of food and water was still on board.

The last log entry on November 24th put the Mary Celeste 100 miles west of the Azores.  By the time it was found eleven days later, it was 500 miles to the east.

Today the fate of the occupants of the Mary Celeste is as much a mystery as the day the ship was found deserted at sea.

The Bermuda Triangle Mystery – Solved by Larry Kusche

History has passed on to us rather small amounts of information concerning Benjamin Spooner Briggs, Captain of the Mary Celeste.  We know that Captain Briggs was an able seaman and an excellent ship handler.  Well respected by those who sailed with him, Briggs’ fairness and ability were never brought into question.  He captained four other ships before signing on with the Mary Celeste.  A humble, religious man himself, he married Sarah E Cobb, daughter of Reverend Leander Cobb, and bought the Rose Cottage in Marion , Massachusetts.  Sarah accompanied Captain on many of his sea voyages.  There is also a letter, written by Briggs to his son, Arthur, just before the Mary Celeste left New York City.  It shows the devoted father Briggs was to his family.

I wanted a man of strict discipline and outstanding moral character for my antagonist.  Captain Briggs filled the bill quite handily.  There is little question of how the man managed to travel from Earth to Erde but there are many questions concerning how such a man as Briggs managed his way in the Empire of Uppsala.  The entire first part of my novel sets out to answer these questions.

Captain Benjamin Spooner Briggs would be my antagonist. 

Water Flannel (Image from www.hydro-kosmos.de/algen/algen2.htm)

POISONED FLANNEL.

Murderous Mysteries of Manufacturing.

(Correspondence New York World.)
Harrisburg, PA, March 23.

A SUIT is pending in one of the civil courts of this State, growing out of the following facts: During 1869, 1870 and 1871 many paragraphs appeared in the papers in different parts of the country, chronicling cases of poisoning from wearing flannel, usually red flannel. It is since claimed to have been discovered that the diseases so produced were essentially of one type, and never ensued except to person who had been wearing flannel of the manufacture of Messrs. Rhees & Howell, Howlet Creek, Pa. The suit is brought by some of the stockholders of Rhees & Howel’s flannel works against the estate of young Mr. Rhees for damages done to their interests by new processes of manufacture introduced by him, which processes are said to have led to the disastrous effects above referred to, and in consequence of which their fabrics were rejected from the market and their dividends reduced to nothing.

The establishment of Rhees & Howel was one of the most respectable and wealthy manufactories in the country, and its dividends during at least a generation had been regular and handsome. The business had been managed in chief by the men of the firm, and when, in 1868, old Mr. Rhess died, Howel telegraphed to Europe for his son to come and fill his place. When young Rhees returned — early in 1869 — Howel had also died, and the entire management of the concern devolved upon him and Mr. David Morgans, the intelligent foreman, who had been connected with the business for more than twenty-five years.

Mr. Griffith Rhees was about thirty years old when he returned. He had been five years in Europe, most of the time in the University of Berlin, where he had been pursuing a course of technical science and applied chemistry, with the express object of fitting himself for his prospective duties as a manfacturer.

Mr. Rhees was not a dreamer, but a man of extremely practical views. He never let conjecture override fact in his mind, and when he returned to the superintendency of the Howlet Creek factory his first step in the administration of affairs showed him to be a business man of no ordinary qualities. He called them together and showed them by irresistible figures that the Rhees & Howel mills were losing money. He convinced them that the protective duty of 120 1/2 per cent on flannels, high as it was, did not compensate them for the offset duty of 69 1/2 per cent on fine wool, and the other taxes that burdened their manufacture. The stockholders proposed to suspend operations. This, however, Mr. Rhees opposed, convincing them that by this course they would lose their skilled labor and their old and well-established custom.

“Besides, gentleman,” said he, “I mean to show you that American brains, American machinery and American capital can do more than the same things in any other part of the world.”

One day, returning from a walk, Mr. Rhees called Morgans into his study and unrolled before him a strip of something that was like cloth, nigh the third of an inch thick, gray on one side, greenish on the other, with the texture and something of the touch of felt.

“What’s that?” said Mr. Rhees.

Morgans shook his head. “It might be thick-milled flannel, but it isn’t. I never handled any cloth like that.”

“It’s a vegetable,” said Mr. Rhees.

“It’s a codfervoit plant known as ‘water-flannel,’ and grows in our mill-dams.”

Morgans started. “Cott!” said he, “if we could only get a good crop of that sort of thing on the ponds, we could let the tariff and the taxes go to the devil!”

Mr. Rhees did not reply, but placing a bit of the cloth under a microscope, showed Morgans that it was really a vegetable fungus, made up of myriads of jointed threads woven together symmetrically and firmly, so as to have the texture and simulate to the actual fabric of a cloth made by machinery.

This was still in the early part of 1869, Morgans’ affidavit tells us; and it was only a few days later that Mr. Rhees summoned him again, and submitted to his inspection a piece of red flannel, which Morgans avers was in every respect not less than 25 per cent above the standard quality produced at the mill.

“That’s English,” said Morgans; “I know the feel of it.”

“That’s Howlet Creek and Rhees & Howel’s mill pond!” retorted Mr. Rhees. “That’s made out of the piece of vegetable fibre I showed you the other day,” added he.

“Impossible!” said Morgans.

“I knew that I could make cloth out of it,” added Mr. Rhees, “and I have done it.”

Morgans’ affidavit goes on to recount very circumstantially the processes resorted to by Mr. Rhees to convert the vegetable fabric into a durable cloth, to keep up the strength and continuity of its fibre, and prevent the fungus from undergoing decomposition.

“Now, Morgans,” added Mr. Rhees, “you must keep this matter a secret, for I am going to perform miracles, and we shall have the hands burning us up if it gets out. I mean to dispense, with factory, machinery, and all, I mean to make our mill ponds manufacture this thing for us as fast as we need it, and so cheap that we can sell it, pound for pound and drive even unwashed wool out of the market!”

Morgans looked at his employer, as if he expected to find him turned lunatic. He saw instead a handsome, intelligent face, glowing with fine enthusiasm.

“See here,” said Mr. Rhees, using his microscope, “do you see this? This cloth is simply vegetable fibre and starch. Starch is the most readily organizable of all materials, and if chemical synthesis cannot establish the conditions precedent to the unlimited production of these globules of feculae and their enwrapping fibre, it ought to surrender claims to usefulness. I say this: I already know how to make cheap cloth, and good cloth, out of this fungus, and I will find means to induce these mill ponds of ours to produce the fungus, just when, how, and as much as we want.”

Mr. Rhees was now occupied for more than two years in perfecting and reducing to practice his various and complicated processes. After he had found out how to consummate and regulate the production of the fungus, there was machinery to invent and to be made that would enable them to gather it cheaply, and there were besides a great number of subsidiary experiments to be conducted, so that the inventor’s time was fully occupied. Meanwhile the mill had been steadily working on, doing its three quarter time with satisfaction to all concerned.

Meanwhile, also, there had been put upon the market from the Rhees & Howel mill, slowly, in small lots, and with a careful avoidance of everything like asking attention to it, a new grade of flannel, mostly red in color, thick milled, rather hard to the touch, and with very short nap, but otherwise not peculiar, except that it seemed to be a very fine goods. This flannel had a particular trade mark of its own, and was called the “Rhees fibre.” It was only “for trial,” and at prices averaging 25 per cent below the market standard for similar qualities, but always in small lots and to different purchasers. This good, thus distinctly separated from the common product of the mills the parties who bring the suit claim will be specifically identified as the article whose introduction caused them the damages they allege, and indeed brought on the catastrophe of the Rhees & Howel mills.

Morgans’ says that it was only in October, 1871, that Mr. Rhees had finally completed all his preparations. Even then he was only able to make the final experiment upon a small surface at the upper end of the mill dam, on account of the deficiency of help. It would not yet do to take the hands into the secret. Rhees in fact wanted to get possession of all the stock first, and then turning his factory into a co-operative union, take all hands into business partnership with him at the same time that he shared with them the new secret. The operatives had already suspicions of something, and were only kept from murmurs of dissatisfaction by hints which Rhees threw out of his intentions toward them. In one night, therefore, Rhees and Morgans, using a model of the landing machinery, brought to the shore enough of the fabric to make 200 yards of flannel. This was loaded into country wagons hired for the purpose, delivered at the mill, and stored in an unused room, all under cover of darkness. By the 20th of December Rhees and Morgans, working at odd times, had submitted this to the chemical and dressing processes necessary, had prepared it for market, and on that date, says Morgans, for the first time, a large consignment of the “Rhees fibre” was made to  their New York agents, along with other goods shipped them as usual.

Rhees, following up his plan, had been actively negotiating with the several holders for the purchase of their shares of stock in his mill. On the 17th of April, 1872, at 10 in the morning, Rhees came into the mill office, looking considerably disturbed.

Morgans asked him what was the matter. He replied that his child, an infant less than a year old, was very much complaining. It had seemed to be threatened with croup; but in the night it had had a sudden attack of fever, with a decided crimson eruption, and he had sent for the doctor, fearing it was scarlatina.

“But that is not the chief trouble,” said Rhees; “see this.”

And he opened a medical journal published in Louisville, and pointed Morgans to an article in it on a new disease just diagnosed there. It was styled in the article “Mycolloidal Dermestitus,” was said to be a peculiar eruption, attended with great irritation of the skin, running an uncertain course, complicated with cerebral symptoms, more or less marked, and terminating variously. Cases were mentioned in which the eruptions lasted weeks, and then disappeared as suddenly as it came, others in which the attack was violent and the result as immediately fatal as in malignant erysipelas. The disease was said to be caused by wearing red flannel.

“I don’t believe it, Morgans,” said Mr. Rhees. “But even if it is not so, and such a thing gets abroad, it will ruin our business. If people suspect that there is such a thing as poisonous red flannel in the market, they will decline to buy any flannel.”

Morgans said not a word, but going to a drawer in his desk, procured a scrap book, opened it, and pointed his employer to a long column of newspaper clippings, enumerating cases of sickness and death from wearing red flannel.

“You see, there’s none of ‘em older than ‘69,” said Morgans.

“Good God, Morgans!” cried Mr. Rhees, “what do you mean?”

“Didn’t we sell a piece of that flannel to Jones & Rhenhardt, in Louisville? I tell you that it’s our flannel — the Rhees fibre — that’s poisoning all these folks.”

“It is not — it cannot be!” cried Mr. Rhees, in great agitation. “Every part of the process, all the articles used in it, are perfectly innocuous.”

“Then it’s the fungus that does it,” persisted Morgans. “I’ve watched these things some time, and I know it’s our flannel.”

Morgans says Mr. Rhees stood like a man thunderstruck. He faltered, staggered, and could not speak. At this instant a servant came running to him from his house, and told him the doctor had come and wanted to see him at once — the baby was very ill.

“Morgans,” said Mr. Rhees, as he went out of the door, making a painful effort ot control his agitation, “telegraph at once to our factors to stop these goods peremptorily, and no matter at what cost.”

Morgans did as he was bidden; and in the course of half an hour Mr. Rhees returned to the office, looking — so the foreman said — like a man sentenced to death.

“Morgans,” said he, “where di the piece of flannel come from I sent for yesterday?”

“It was the Rhees fibre; I thought you wanted it for some of your experiments. Good God, Mr. Rhees! You didn’t put that around your child’s neck, did you?”

“What else!” said the unhappy man, forcing himself to be calm; “and the child is dying, and the doctor pronounces the disease to be — O God! I am punished! I am punished!”

And to Morgan’s great distress Mr. Rhees broke into a great weeping.

At this moment a telegraph boy arrived with a dispatch, which Mr. Rhees read and then handed to Morgans, controlling himself and becoming suddenly calm once more, by an effort which the faithful foreman said was more frightful to witness than his sobs and tears. The message said that the orders arresting the sale of the consignment of the Rhees fibre had come too late. The goods had been sold on very satisfactory terms to another house, which had already reported that they were to be made up into uniforms for General Herrera’s army.

“You see, Morgans,” said Mr. Rhees, “the fire I kindled has gone beyond my own house.”

As he spoke, the doctor came to the door and laid his hand on Mr. Rhees’ shoulder.

“Your child is dead,” said he; “go comfort your wife.”

“I am going — to make reparation to her, and to all,” answered Mr. Rhees, walking out of the office.

After much search his body was found, two days later, in the deepest part of the mill dam. The stockholders suspended operations at the mill at once, attached the property of Rhees, and brought suit as above mentioned. The case will come to trial soon as the messengers who have been despatched for witnesses from General Herrera’a army shall have returned.

The Ohio Democrat (New Philadelphia, Ohio) Apr 5, 1872

Read more online about water-flannel in the following 1844 magazine (Google Books, page 282) at the link:

Title    The eclectic magazine of foreign literature, science, and art
Publisher    Leavitt, Trow, & Co., 1844
Item notes    v. 1
Original from Indiana University
Digitized Feb 3, 2009

The “Poisoned Flannel” story, which we published last week, is styled by the Holmes County Farmer a “skillfully concocted scientific sensation, but people are not required to believe it on our account.” Just so.

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

*****

I posted this story in the Tragic Tuesday category because  I totally fell for it when I read it in the old newspaper! I then spent about an hour searching the archives for more articles about this “tragedy” and came up completely empty, until I finally found the snippet above which was published in the same paper the following week. I bet the editors had a real good laugh.

Anyway, I do think it’s a good story, even if it isn’t true.

Bernhard otto holterman, 1872

Yo no sé si se le puede llamar aún “Pepita” de oro al increíble hallazgo realizado en una mina australiana en 1872  por  el “afortunado” Bernhard Otto Holterman.  Una pieza de oro  que pesaba 650 lbs.  Fue extraído de las minas en Hill Ends, Nueva Gales en Australia; durante la fiebre de oro en aquel país a finales del siglo IXX.

¿Qué harías si encontraras semejante mineral?

A pesar del gran hallazgo, Holterman parece muy serio en la fotografía, por lo que se tienen varias teorías  acerca del porque de su rígido semblante:

• La espeza barba no permitía que se le viera la increíble sonrisa
• No podía sonreír debido al excesivo esfuerzo que hacia para sostener aquella piedra
• Ya estaba muerto, lo había linchado el resto de los mineros para quedarse con la “pepita”; pero en una buena acción conjunta tomaron la foto para que Holterman recibiera el crédito del hallazgo

Un poco de humor a nadie le hace mal. Nos vemos al rato que me pongo ahora mísmo a escarbar.

Image from picturebook.com

When a horse commits suicide by hanging itself in its stall, that’s noose.

Appleton Post Crescent (Appleton, Wisconsin) Dec 19, 1928

Posted by Mugira Fredrick at blogspot.com

AN IOWA cow committed suicide the other day, out of grief for the loss of her calf. After following the butcher’s wagon to the slaughter house and giving vent to a series of agonizing moans, she deliberately made her way to the river, waded in beyond her depth and was drowned.

Gettysburg Compiler (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jul 26, 1872

A Virginia horse committed suicide in the James River at Petersburg last week. He walked out to the pierhead of a wharf, and looked around as if choosing a spot, jumped into the river at a point where the water was deepest. Persons on the wharf, seeing that he was drowning, got a rope around him and drew him into shallow water, but as soon as he touched bottom he got loose again, and wading out some yards further in the stream, put his head beneath the surface, and kept it there until he drowned.

The Bucks County Gazette (Bristol, Pennsylvania) Aug 26, 1875

A Mad Cow Commits Suicide.
From the Columbus, Ga., Daily Times.

Yesterday, about noon, upper Broad and Oglethorpe streets were thrown inot a state of excitement by the strange antics of a cow, which gave every indication of madness. It was a fine young animal, belonging to Mrs. Purcell. She was very vicious, fighting other cows, etc; she ran into a wagon, and, with rolling eyes, kicked up her heels and snorted around generally. Efforts were made to catch her, but they were in vain, and she finally ran into the river, near Mott’s Green, and was drowned. The body was caught near the upper bridge.

Her conduct is inexplicable. Some have advanced the idea that perhaps she was drunk, from eating the seed and strainings after wine making from blackberries, thrown into the street. How about this we cannot say, but her death entails a heavy loss on Mrs. Purcell.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Jul 6, 1882

Horse Commits Suicide.

The Wabash Railway, in a damage suit instituted by J.M. Sauvinette to recover the value of a horse which met his death on the Wabash tracks, sets up the novel defense that the horse committed suicide. Perhaps the animal had been reading advertisements of the Wabash, and got it into his head that it was the direct route to heaven. –Globe-Democrat, Feb. 27, 1903.

Decatur Herald (Decatur, Illinois) Mar 3, 1903

HORSE COMMITS SUICIDE.

Deliberately Butts Head Against Wall Until it Falls Dead.
Cincinnati, Sept 30. A horse owned by Joseph Kamphouse, of this city, deliberately committed suicide by butting its head against a stone wall. The animal was hitched to a buggy left standing in the street while the owner went into a place of business for a few minutes. It walked slowly toward the wall a square away and fell over dead after striking its head against the wall ten or twelve times. A score of persons witnessed the suicide.

Kamphouse declares he knows of no reason why the horse should destroy itself and will inform the President of the circumstances, although he will run the rist of being called a nature faker.

Trenton Evening Times (Trenton, New Jersey) Sep 30, 1907

Image from seahorsekisses on wunderground.com

Found Drowned, and Its Owner Declares Animal’s Act was Deliberate.
Special to the Washington Post.

Glennville, N.Y., July 6. — It was so hot on Wednesday that a horse owned by J. M. Cook, went to a brook and drowned itself, and William Beekman, the constable of the town of Greenburgh, was prostrated with heat after carrying his big badge around for five hours doing duty on the warm roads.

Cook’s horse was found by Beekman, with its head under water. He declared that the horse had not drowned itself, just drunk itself to deat. Cook said it was purely a case of suicide.

Washington Post, The (Washington, D.C.) Jul 7, 1911

HORSE COMMITTED SUICIDE.
[New York Sun.]

According to the Humane Society of Spokane a horse deliberately committed suicide there the other day. The animal was decrepit and has been deserted. Too weak to eat solid food he was tethered in front of a patch of clover. He sampled the clover, and then, according to the report, deliberately plunged headlong off a bluff overlooking the river a few feet away and was later found dead.

Naturalist have frequently related the suicide of animals through grief. Probably the oddest one of all is tht told by Dr. Ezekiel Henderson, the traveller, of a tigress whose cubs had been taken from her by the agents of one of the large circus menageries of the United States. The party came upon the tiger’s den while hunting in Asia for exhibits. They took four cubs and crossed a near-by river with them, destroying the primitive tree trunk bridge after they reached the other side.

The tigress returning and finding her cubs gone bounded by scent down to where the party had crossed the stream. She knew of the tree trunk, having made used of it herself before. When she saw it was gone she uttered the most piercing and lamentable howls and cries. The party with her cubs came back to the river bank, attracted by the noise. The tigress when she was her cubs gave vent to an unearthly shriek. Then crouching, rising and recrouching again several times, she deliberately sprang from the river bank. The river was five times wider than she could have been expected to leap, and leaping animals are close calculators. She fell 25 feet into the stream. She came up once, turned toward the distant shore, threw her head back and sank for good. A clear case of suicide the doctor called it.

Washington Post, The (Washington, D.C.) Jul 13, 1913

SATURDAY NIGHT.
BY WALTER KEIFER?

SATURDAY night! How much it is fraught
With bright recollections of what it has brought;
How the children go skipping, with smiles on each face,
To welcome their father who cometh space;
Trippingly,
Laughingly,
Joyously roam
The dear little children, for “Papa’s come home!”

Home from the labors of office or store,
Happy is he when he reaches the door;
Home from the workshop or other employ,
Filled with the purest and manliest joy!

Fondest of fathers! Blithe, active and strong,
Happy and good as the blest day is long;
Smiles for his family, in pleasure and pain,
Calm and contented in sunshine or rain’
Lovingly,
Thinkingly,
Bringing to them
Some little gift that to each seems a gem.

Deep in the depths of his pockets are laid
Queerest of playthings, most cunningly made;
And wise little heads have discovered the bliss
Of searching his pockets for that thing or this.

Bills has he none — and his conscience is free,
Free as the birds, or the waves of the sea,
True to his manhood, he wins in a fight,
Honest and sober, and seeking the right;
Manfully,
Cheerfully,
Working his way,
Wearing the crown of contentment alway

Well may his wife wear a bright, sunny face;
Well may his little ones scamper and race!
Theirs is a father deserving the name,
Bringing no trouble, nor sorrow, nor shame.
*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
Saturday night! How the winds whistle shrill,
While a poor, wretched mother, with two children ill,
Sits in her hovel, half dreading to think
Of the days ere her husband had taken to drink;
Glaringly,
Mockingly,
Troop into view
The old recollections when he was so true!

But now, ah, how changed! Not a morsel to eat,
Scarce a garment to warm her, no shoes on her feet;
And the children, oh, God! must these little ones be
In sickness, unclothed and unfed? “Must they die?”

Hark! ’tis the wind; he’s coming at last,
And she listens, and listens — the footsteps go past,
But another step now — ’tis unsteady and slow,
His is coming — that step she has learned to her woe;
Nervously,
Tremblingly,
Totteringly come
The steps, once a man’s but now guided by rum.

What a wreck! With a hand like an old palsied man
Who his glorious days of allotment bad ran;
With a step like an infant just learning to walk,
And his words like an infant just learning to talk.

And this was a man, and for this men will drink?
Poor imbeciles, surely, who never will think;
For, how could a thinking man blot out his life?
Forgetting his God, and his children and wife
Wretchedly,
Daringly,
Digging his grave
By the power of drink — but no power to save.

With a terrible curse while he’s just on the brink –
For the men who enticed him and sold him his drink,
He dies, and oblivion covers his shame,
While mortified friends blush to mention his name.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Nov 16, 1872

Le Tour du Monde en 80 jours, mise en scène de S. Azzopardi

Ok, soyons honnêtes, je ne “viens” pas d’aller le voir, non… J’ai assisté à cette représentation il y a bien… ouh la la… au moins… (j’attends qu’on me souffle dans l’oreillette)… plus que ça même… (alors ça vient ?)… je dirais même encore plus que ça… (ça traine, ça traine)… un samedi (me dit-on)… du mois de janvier vraisemblablement… le… 10 ! C’est important ? Non, pas vraiment, mais j’avais pas d’idée pour l’intro de mon article !

Tout ça c’est de la faute de mon chéri. Il m’a fait une surprise. J’ai horreur des surprises. Et j’ai horreur des cadeaux. Alors le mardi qui précédait, il  a voulu m’en parler, et s’est finalement contenté de me dire qu’on sortait le samedi soir qui suivait. Tiraillée entre mon envie de ne pas avoir de surprise et les reproches qui me démangeaient pour l’attention (fermez-là, vous savez pas ce que c’est), j’ai décidé de ne rien dire. Du tout. Finalement, il sait assez bien me prendre cet homme-là. On s’est gelés devant le Café de la Gare, après une longue balade dans le quartier. Il avait heureusement réservé les billets et nous sommes arrivés assez tôt devant le théâtre pour pouvoir faire la queue aux deux files (d’un pratique, une pour les billets, l’autre pour entrer) et voir s’amasser le monde derrière nous. A l’ouverture des portes, nous n’avons pas trainé et nous sommes installés au deuxième rang, face à la scène. Une place de choix.

En bref : Vous connaissez tous l’histoire… mais si… rappelez-vous, en 1872, le very british Phileas Fogg et son nain de Passepartout, français jusqu’au bout de sa râlerie, se lancent dans une aventure insensée suite à un pari stupide : faire le tour du monde en 80 jours ! Un road-play de folie, qui les font rencontrer une princesse Indienne, un chinois fumeur d’opium,  une multitude de consuls clônés, Jack le plus grand looser de l’Ouest, tout en étant pourchassé par l’inspecteur de police le plus nul de toutes les séries allemandes. Mais nous tremblons tous… Fogg gagnera-t-il son pari ? Et surtout, obtiendra-t-il le tarif 12-25 ans pour ses nombreux déplacements ?

Le petit plus : J’ai adoré ! Y’a plein de petits plus ! Ca démarre sur les chapeaux de roue et on arrête pas une seconde. J’ai beaucoup aimé le fait que chaque acteur ait plusieurs personnages, le côté complètement déjanté, notamment dans les chansons, remarquablement vivantes. Le top, c’est que l’histoire est bien là, ceux qui l’ont lue reconnaîtront le déroulement sans problème et si vous avez un peu d’humour, vous serez emportés par les clins d’oeil tantôt grivois, tantôt culturels, qui émaillent ce spectacle au rythme effréné. J’ai eu un faible pour l’un des comédiens, mais je ne vous dirai pas lequel, puisqu’ils tournent apparemment… Ils agrémentent leur pièce avec un soupçon d’actualité, des références à des personnages bien connus (dont on se souvient avec tendresse) et font participer le public de manière fort agréable. Pour finir, le jeu des comédiens est exceptionnel…

Le petit moins : Le froid. Dehors. Bon, ok, rien à voir. Sérieusement, j’ai ri toute la soirée, j’ai vu mon chéri sourire voire pouffer (!) de temps à autre (incroyable), je n’ai rien à reprocher à ce moment de haut divertissement. Si ce n’est qu’il m’a tellement fait d’effet qu’il y a eu des répercussions dans tout mon corps. Mais cet aspect-là, j’en parlerai ailleurs. Et pas dans ce lieu…

When you look at this particular painting,

Its as if you could see everything clearly, but then again, you question your own sight and try to see something else.

But once you are over with this first analysis,

You turn your attention to something else, something deeper. You explore the painting in other ways,

And in your own way.

The eyes only might not be able to reveal all of its greatness.

Artist: Claude Monet

Title: Impression, soleil levant

Year: 1872

My father, who was customarily not very outspoken, at times seemed so overcome by a truth he felt everyone else was ignoring, he would blurt out his opinion. Fully expecting whoever was within earshot to disagree with him. 

A famous poem, “Tell all the truth but tell it slant — ” by Emily Dickinson sounds like the advice of someone who has earned more than a few battle scars in the “Truth Campaign.”

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant -
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind -

When Daddy passed away last year he was a couple of years shy of 100. His periodic inconvenient truths, whether about the child-rearing methods of his great grandchildren or my driving habits, had become a twinkle in his eye. More charming, perhaps, but I believe he’d stopped believing in the “Success in Circuit…”. His nature circumvented a thoughtful, slant approach.  To take a circuitous route might have caused us to open a little our closed minds. However, he would have feared insulting someone by appearing to treat them as infirm.

The poem, which doesn’t say which truth to regard as “Too bright for our infirm Delight”, speaks from experience of having failed at least once in an attempt to shed light on a situation. 

Feeling caught is not fun after telling the truth about a troubling circumstance of my life when a loved one runs for cover; the familiar, safe anonymity of ignorance too compelling. To learn from hard experience of trafficking in truth that “The Truth must dazzle gradually” involves self restraint and self respect. Intact belief in “The Truth’s superb..” qualities, when everyone else is not so sure, leads either to despair or willingness to bite one’s tongue. “As Lightening to the Children eased / With explanation kind” speaks of a decision about how to communicate.  

Is it satirical to say of one’s peers that we must “With explanation kind” avoid saying, “What are you?  Blind?!”

No! No, the poem advises, tolerance: “Or every man be blind —”.

Digest A Poem A Day — Accept What Comes Your Way

Se imaginan un mundo en que aún ocurrieran cosas como esta,

But in the fall of 1872, almost all of these power units, better know as horses, came down with the flu, and America faced an energy crisis.  In what became known as the Great Epizootic, horse influenza spread from Ontario down the East Coast of the United States, across the South and into the West, eventually reaching as far as California and Nicaragua.  Forty-eight hours after it hit Boston, seven out of every eight of the city’s horses were feverish and coughing. “Horses at work.  Harnessing Power in Industrial America“

By: paulwoolrich en Flickr.com

Y luego, entendí cómo surgió el modelo T de Henry Ford en 1908.  Este debió ser un incentivo significativo para la industria del transporte.  El caos reinó durante varias semanas sin acceso a trasporte industrial y civil; el mundo se detuvo en el año 1872.

Y vaya que son importantes (y suficientes) las justificaciones que demostraron que el utilizar automóviles era mucho mejor que montar a los angulosos mamíferos.  Porque al final, esta parecerá ser la única solución realmente válida para los que creen que así se rescatará el planeta del apocalipsis de la contaminación.

Sin duda, los autos son,

• son más veloces;
• no defecan en cantidades industriales (debo admitir que el olor No me parece desagradable);
• tienen aire acondicionado;
• permiten tener 7 asientos;
• son populares y accesibles hasta para los más pobres.

Pero,

• ocupan más espacio;
• no son nada silenciosos;
• y no ahorran tiempo en las horas de tráfico peak;
• son menos flexibles para manejar;
• Contaminan seguramente un poco más… aunque sigo pensando en el metano de las heces del caballo;
• salvaron de la muerte a miles de caballos por heridas como animales de carga.

Anyways, estuve hoy por la mañana 45 minutos sentado en el carro y me pareció un poco tedioso ver tanto tráfico.  Siempre pienso que “ojalá todos usaran motos”, menos yo.

Snow on the browser has ceased for the winter, but here in Amherst snow and wind are “Like Brooms of Steel”.  This poem by Emily Dickinson not only mirrors New England weather conditions.  Also, questions come to mind because the poem reminds me of truth I would rather not accept.

Like Brooms of Steel
The Snow and Wind
Had swept the Winter Street -
The House was hooked
The Sun sent out
Faint Deputies of Heat -
Where rode the Bird
The Silence tied
His ample – plodding Steed
The Apple in the Cellar snug
Was all the one that played

At various times people I love have tried to convince me of their truths, and I them. These attempts at persuasion became the basis of conflicts between us, leaving communication frozen. Like medieval servants fastening shutters on manor house windows to defend against “The Snow and Wind”, we each became “The House was hooked”.

Our love is real, but intellectual conflicts, diverse ambitions and emotion-ridden mysteries rule outcomes. Attempts to bring confrontations out in the open where grievances can be aired, “The Sun sent out / Faint Deputies of Heat —” seldom suffice.

I have resolved that much of my discomfort is due to conflicts within my own person. “Where rode the Bird” of honesty, tolerance, acceptance, “(t)he Silence tied / His ample — plodding Steed”. The silent oblivion of abusing alcohol, food, sex, work, or becoming tied in obsessive relationships can seem to work for awhile to keep the sun away and truth at bay.

Learning to distinguish between honest differences and power plays has diffused much anxiety about how to relate to people I love who seem at odds with me. A few relationships that caused me outrageous confusion in my young years are now a bit like “The Apple in the Cellar snug”. I can now recall without fear, or impulse to retaliate out of hurt, aspects of their personalities I am free to love. A contented relationship between myself and myself, or between another and me, “Was all the one that played”.

Digest A Poem A Day — Accept What Comes Your Way