Thursday, November 25, 1920
Taxes in the county this year per hundred dollars assessed valuation, are as follows: $2.27 in Greenbank and Levels District; Edray District $1.95; Marlinton Sub District, including town taxes, $2.61.
“Fifty dollars and costs – total, sixty-eight thirty-five,” sternly said old Squire Ramsbottom, the well-known jurist of Petunia.
“All right, Your Honor,” replied the traveling salesman, who had offended, “I’ll –– “
“And take off them britches,” grimly proceeded the justice, pointing to that garment,
“What the deuce ––“
“None o’ that, now, or I’ll soak you for contempt! You plead guilty to giving a drink of licker in the back room of the hardware store to Flip Smith, a clerk thereof, at a time when Constable Slackputter was peeking through a crack, although you didn’t know it, from a bottle which you confess you brung here from the city in the hip pocket of your pants. Now, then, the law is plain, and says that any vehicle used in the transportation of licker shall be confiscated. By your own confession that licker was transported in your pants. Therefore, and to wit, they automatically became, and are hereby declared to have been at the time, a vehicle. Take off them britches, or I’ll order the officer to do his duty!” – Country Gentleman
Ira Snell, a farmer living n the river hills six miles south of town, drove in yesterday morning with a wolf he had shot.
His wagon was at once surrounded and Ira attracted great attention. Everybody wanted to know how he shot it, and Ira told the story over and over with evident enjoyment.
When the crowd was largest, several ladies came along and wondered what the men were looking at. The ladies hesitated about walking out into the street, so Wils Dunlap took the wolf by the tail and carried it to the sidewalk where the crowd followed.
It might have been anybody’s wolf on the sidewalk, so Ira soon went and got it and threw it back into his wagon.
As soon as the crowd decreased, Ira drove on uptown and attracted another crowd. Finally, he offered to sell the wolf for five dollars, but though everybody wanted to look, no one seemed to care to buy. So Ira reduced his price to three dollars, to two, to one; but still he did not find a purchaser.
By this time, there was almost no one around Ira’s wagon, and he went into the post office after his mail.
“I’ve got a wolf out here,” Ira said, “want to see it?”
But the post master had seen it and was listless. Ira next tried the keeper of the store where he went to do his trading before returning home, but the storekeeper also had seen the wolf.
When Ira went out of the store with his packages there was only one man looking at the wolf, and he was offered the animal for fifty cents, but he didn’t want it. Then Ira offered to give the wolf to anyone who wanted it, and as no one would accept it as a gift he pulled the wolf out of the wagon and said he would throw it away. But the city marshal said a dead animal couldn’t be thrown away in the city limits, and Ira started home, taking the wolf with him. He told Harry Towne he hadn’t been treated right by the city marshal and that in the future he intended to do his trading in Centerville… – Saturday Evening Post
On last Wednesday, the body of Dwight Nottingham was buried at Seebert, the funeral conducted form the Seebert Methodist church.
The young man was the son of Mr. J. E. Hite and her husband, the late Emmett Nottingham. His age was twenty years, and he died at Akron, Ohio, on November 13 from a pistol wound inflicted by his own hand on November 10, while mentally unbalanced. Before his death, he regained his mind, and could give no reason for this rash act. Not being able to recall anything about it.
No young man had more to live for than Dwight Nottingham. Being refused permission to volunteer in the late war on account of his youth, he went into the railroad work and advanced so rapidly that he was promoted to the important position of locomotive engineer before his twentieth birthday. He literally worked day and night at his job and at his studies, and accomplished in a few months what usually takes as many years. The result was a breakdown. Following a night of study, on Tuesday, November 9, he went out on an extremely hard run, and came back that night utterly exhausted. Hardly had he gotten to bed when he was called out to take an engine on another hard run. His friends noticed that he acted in a peculiar manner, but his run was made in safety as his was the second engine in a double header. Soon after returning to his room, a shot was heard, and young Nottingham was found with a bullet hole in his left breast. Dwight’s mother, Mrs. J. E. Hite, was notified and she was with her son for two days before he died. The last day he was perfectly rational, deplored the act and witnessed a happy profession of his faith.
Dwight Nottingham was to have been married shortly and had saved enough money to buy a fine home.