Thursday, February 24, 1921
Ira D. Brill is building a large blacksmith shop building on this lot at the west end of the bridge.
After having had one of the finest winters that has been experienced for many years, our good balmy weather came to a close Saturday night with about a ten inch snow, since then, we have something like 12 or 13 inches of snow.
The people were in the midst of sugar making previous to the snowfall. A. C. Barlow, we are informed, had gathered 35 barrels of sugar water.
C. C. Baxter is suffering with something like a felon on one of his fingers.
Our farmers made good use of the fine weather last week and did quite a lot of plowing. Some are also busy building lime kilns.
“There is so much good in the worst of us,
And so much bad in the best or us, that it ill becomes the most of us,
To talk about the rest of us.”
Most of the farmers have been busy plowing the past week, but from the amount of snow that fell Saturday night, they will have to lay off for a few days.
Claude Barkley has been making molasses at Sandy Patterson’s camp. He says the sap surely did run for a few days last week.
The Surveyors were looking over the road from Arbovale toward Bartow to see where the best location would be. We would like to see all roads graveled, for they have been almost impassable.
About three miles north of Hillsboro on the little mountain is what is known as the High Rocks. A combination of picturesque cliffs of various shapes and lines rising to a great height. From their dizzy summits, one can look down on tall trees and from no point in all this section of country can a grander view be had of houses, valleys and mountains stretching out as far as the eye can see and forming a scenic panorama of surpassing beauty. It was here, quite a number of years ago, that Marshall Peyatt, a resident of our town, and who has long since passed into the great beyond, met with a trying experience, which nearly cost him his life. Mr. Peyatt, in company of a friend whose name at present we cannot recall, went to a point near the High Rocks to hunt. While there, they went to the great cliffs to enjoy the magnificent view to be obtained therefrom. As it was the winter season the tops of the cliffs were covered with snow and ice, some of which through a thawing process had slipped over the edge of the cliff about four or five feet and hung partly supported by some bushes which grew out of the cliff.
Mr. Peyatt walked out on the projection two or three feet thinking there was a solid foundation underneath it. While standing there, he felt it start to give away, and with a great leap barely cleared the space between him and the solid rock, as the great mass of snow and ice went crashing down perhaps two hundred feet to the bottom of the cliff. Speaking of the occurrence afterward, Mr. Peyatt said he was completely unnerved by his narrow escape from death, and while clinging there dangerously near the edge of the cliff, trembling in every limb, his thoughts went out to God. He realized that he had been saved by that unseen hand that is ever leading us through this life, and from his heart he sent up a prayer of thanks to Him who is ever mindful of us, and holds the lives and destinies of all men and nations in His hands…
W. A. Browning will put up a nice dwelling house on his farm here in the near future. Miss Alice Clark is going to build an addition to her home.
Remmie Kinnison is putting up a large and convenient granary and machine building.
Born to Mr. and Mrs. Leonard Auldridge, a son.
Little Misses Edith and Ethel Smith entertained a number of their friends at their home on Lower Camden Avenue, Wednesday evening, February 16, in honor of their 10th birthday. Those present were – Louise Moore, Mary Richardson, Annas Cole, Rebecca Sla-ven, Virginia Dearing, Elizabeth Williams, Margaret McGraw, Alice Waugh, Mar-gie McCarty, Madaline Weathers, Kathleen Baxter, Naomi Rexrode, Lina Browning, Margaret Rose, Josephine Browning, Grace Johnson, Orda Hill, Jean Price, Lelia Hill, Florence Price, Betsy Price, Louie Haddicks and Louise McNeill.
February 24, 1921
Maybe it’s been so long ago since you met me and pap, and the rest of our family, that you have forgotten me. But I thought you would be glad to know that I am coming to Marlinton next week.
Yep! Ain’t you glad?
Me and Tom Sawyer and pap (he’s no account) and the “duke” and the “king” will be with me – the whole bunch of us just like you read in Mark Twain’s book about me – “Huckleberry Finn.”
Only now, we have come to life in a big moving picture. You’ll see us living the greatest story ever written by dear old Mark Twain.
See you Tuesday at eight o’clock at the AMUSU.
Yours for a good time,
By Garnett Laidlaw Eskew
The lions at the library
Are carven out of stone,
Reclining on their tummies;
As from a royal throne
They watch the throngs that always pass
Serene, aloof, alone.
And yet, I well remember,
The lion on the right
Raised up upon his haunches
And snarled at me one night;
He snarled an ugly snarl at me
Transfixing me with fright.
For I had dined most finely
With famed Delmonico,
Where wine of ancient vintage
Continually did flow…
I think the lion was slightly peeved
To hear me singing so.
I fled away in terror;
In some mysterious way
I found my safe apartment
And hit the soothing hay;
Nor roused again until the sun
Had brought another day.
And when I see that lion’s
Serene complacency –
His lazy toleration –
I’m wondering if he
Recalls that far off summer night
On which he snarled at me!