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100 Years Ago

Thursday, November 21, 1918

“What is a Communist? One who hath yearnings
For equal division of unequal earnings,
Idler or bungler, or both, he is willing
To fork out his penny and pocket your shilling.”

We do not say communist these days. We have holed up a new word which came from Russia, but sounds like improper Yankee slang – Bolsheviki. It means your money or your life right now.

Germany used the natural cupidity of the illiterate serfs of Russia to further her war aims, and it may be that this is a chicken that will come home to roost. In the upheaval in Germany there are two ways open to her. She can pattern after the French Republic, or she can follow Russia. The chances are that Germany will be saved from the fate of Russia, by reason of that country’s horrible example. And for the same reason, she may secure the freedom that is like to that of the French Republic, without the internal wars and bloodshed that came with the innovation in France.

The Germans are great readers. Probably the greatest readers in the world. There is less illiteracy in Germany than in any other country. It is a mild epithet compared to some that have been recently hurled against that country, to say that they have been acting for four years like educated fools…


The sad news came yesterday that Charles Gum, son of Mr. and Mrs. J. N. Gum, of near Cass, was killed in battle in France on October 25, 1918.

These good people had three sons, two of them in the army, the third son, a boy at home sixteen years old, took influenza which developed into pneumonia, and he died about the 21st of October. Mrs. Gum and one of their daughters are seriously sick at this time.


Our incoming member of the legislature, Hon. H. Blackhurst, who squeezes through at the recent election by a majority of three votes, is a native of England, having been born at the town of Sandyford, Staffordshire, England, in the year 1869. This part of England is the limestone and coal district. These hills at one time were the headquarters of the Druids, and to come down to more modern times, the place where Wedgewood pottery originated with one, Josiah Wedgewood.

Mr. Blackhurst’s father was a pottery manufacturer and in 1884, he and his wife and six children came to America and settled in Minneapolis.

The present member of the legislature lived at Minneapolis for twenty years, and there met and married a Miss Burner from Pocahontas county, and fifteen years ago moved to this county.

He is a heavy set man and looks like the typical big, burley English squire. In fact, when you come to think of it, he looks like, the typical John Bull.


I do not understand it, any more than do you, but there is something about this thing of giving that blesses us.

No man has ever impoverished himself by giving. It cannot be done. Those who give most, have the most left. No man ever died poor because of that which he gave away. No one has ever gone hungry after giving away his bread; some way, somewhere, bread has been provided for him.

Misery is upon the war-torn world as it never was before. Want is almost universal in the countries that have been ravaged. They call to us from every quarter of the globe for help. They cry aloud, or moan in tone subdued. The gaunt and famished, the lean and weary, the sick and wounded – they hold their outstretched, empty hands toward us and beg for help. And we, of all the people in the world, are in position to relieve them.

I believe that every one who gives a penny will get it back a hundred fold. I believe that everyone who dries a tear with his assistance will be spared the shedding of a thousand tears. I believe that every sacrifice we make will so enrich us in the future that our regret will be that we did not sacrifice more. This thing of giving! A glorious privilege it is! How meaningless now is money that is hoarded. How hateful to himself and to his fellows is he who does not answer to the call for aid. Give – and in the giving, live the life a human being is entitled to enjoy. Give – and let no thought of sorrow abide with you because you did not give. Give – and somewhere, from out the clouds, or from the sacred depths of human hearts, a melody divine will reach your ears, and gladden all your days upon the earth. – George F. Burba


Died, of Spanish Influenza at Marlinton, October 27, 1918, Myrtle Lena, beloved wife of Edward Hiner. She leaves to mourn her untimely death, her husband and a sweet little baby girl, Jannet Grey, aged about two years…

She was a good wife and fond mother, and liked by all. Her maiden name was Dreppard. She was born and raised near Frost, and was buried near her old home at Mt. Zion Church…


Henry H. Saddler died at his home two miles below Marlinton, on Saturday night, November 16, 1918, aged 38 years, of influenza. His body was buried at Buckeye Monday morning. He is survived by his mother, his wife and one child.

A Mrs. Sparks died at her home at Buckeye last Thursday morning of influenza.

A man named Reinhold died at his home at Buckeye last week of influenza.

John Andrew Sheets, of Greenbank, died Saturday morning, November 16, 1918, of pneumonia following influenza. He was about 60 years old, and is survived by his wife and a number of children.

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