Thursday, December 28, 1900
Price Brothers, Editors
Editors sometimes get into trouble when no trouble is dreamed of, as did the Missouri editor who thought he was writing a very nice obituary notice. In speaking of a respected old lady in his town, he made his paper say: “She was a devoted Christian until about four years ago when she joined the Presbyterian Church.”
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A principal depot for the rich and populous section of Pocahontas known as the Levels is Seebert just below the mouth of Stamping Creek. A good town should grow up around this depot; there now is but one house and no post office. The place was called Clendennin at first, but has since been changed to Seebert, the name of the first settler at that place. Seebert was a common name in this section once but there are none of the name here now.
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The state of Oregon has hit upon a devise to make men sober that would delight Wooly himself. Every man who drinks has to take out a license costing him $5 a year, and unless he is armed with a document he cannot be served with liquor at any hotel or saloon. Every six months the names of all persons who take out license are to be published in the paper so that the public may know those who are authorized to drink.
A BACHELOR
Who collars all my scanty pay,
And with my little plans makes hay?
Who says Mama has come to stay?
Who takes away my easy chair
Because “it has no business there,”
And only says she doesn’t care?
Who says she hasn’t got a gown,
And wants to put the horses down,
And thinks we’d better live in town?
Who commandeers my only hack,
Returns him with a bad, sore back,
And says the little beast is slack?
Who thinks that I must ride a bike
And makes me do what I don’t like,
And tells me if I don’t, she’ll strike?
And when I’m feeling sad and low
Who sympathizes with my woe,
And softly breathes, “I told you so!”
NO ONE!
A LEAF FROM MY NOTEBOOK
I pick up my Notebook this morning and give you a leaf from it. Starting out on a ramble from the Pine Bush heights, or as Senator McNeil suggests Pine Tree, being too large to be called a bush, we mark signs of decay on it as we pass on our way. This tree has braved many a storm but none of them seem to have injured it like the memorable thunderstorm of the 28th of last May. Our favorite tree may die from the injury received in that storm.
We hasten on to Big Spring on our way to the mountain. Passing the mills we exchange a few words of good cheer and pleasantry with Prof. D. L. Barlow and others as we go there is some delay in the work at William Sharp & Co’s sawmill as the engine needs some repairs. We do sincerely hope that those people connected with this mill will soon get under headway again and do good and paying work in their line of business. Prof. Barlow is just getting his planer in operation. Mr. Barlow, in this work with his planer, corn and perhaps later on, feed mill, bids fail not to utilize the water from these beautiful springs which comes gushing out from the mountain side, but to do a good paying business here.
In our ramble we do not forget to give A. M. Taylor at the McLaughlin mill a passing notice. Mr. T. is comfortable and happy. He is a good miller, and we hope he may always have a grist to grind.
But passing Taylor Moore’s neat and quiet home on a nice elevation to the left of us we would, if time would permit, like to say at least, “how do you do,” to him and his, but on we go and pass Asa Barlow’s residence recently built, among those beautiful sugar trees. Asa is away from home, busy hauling walnut logs. We admire the location and will go on to Uncle Henry Barlow’s home. Here in the yard, we find Anderson Barlow and George VanReenan preparing wood to keep Uncle Henry and his folks warm this winter. On inquiry we learn that the old gentleman is sick. We go in and talk matters over and find him better.
He is not too sick to talk and joke. Uncle Henry is three score and ten years old with three or four years additional. We hope he may see at least several winters yet in this life and then go finally to a clime that is blessed and glorious in the “sweet fields of Eden,” where we will all want to be found in our turn to leave this mundane sphere.
The “Good-Bye” is given, and away we go to reach A. C. Curry’s dwelling place high on the mountain above Stony Creek before night fall. Glancing to and fro at things generally on our way, we have not time to take notes, but hurry on up the valley, around the mountain and go winding up until we reach the level and healthful top where Amos Curry lives. We learned here the name of the mountain but not noting it at once, we have forgotten it. Here and about here we stayed nearly twenty-four hours. In our walks we reach William VanReenan’s quiet home, but Will had taken his gun and gone into the mountains, and we did not see him. We are told that Joseph Barlow is preparing to build a house here and move into it as soon as practicable. Mr. Vanreenan talks some of moving to Williams River.
We talked with Mr. Curry about things generally, but neither of us said, “yes” to everything the other said, but we got along well together. If you want to have a social talk, visit our friend Curry.
WEDDING
The marriage of F. Raymond Hill and Miss Delia Edgar, eldest daughter of Captain A. M. Edgar, was set for Wednesday of this week.
DIED
John B. Kennison at his home near Hillsboro, aged more than 80 years. This worthy and much esteemed citizen was a grandson of Charles Kennison, one of the two brothers who were the earliest pioneers of the Little Levels. Our lamented friend passed a busy life farming and operating a flourishing blacksmith business. He was a noted expert at the anvil, and by patient industry and judicious economy acquired a fine property now occupied by his children. From youth to old age, all who knew him had a good word for John B. Kennison. W.T.P.
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Jacob K. Taylor, 66 years; his funeral sermon was preached by his son, Rev. John A. Taylor, assisted by Revs. McNeil and McLaughlin, his six oldest sons acting as pallbearers. …Mr. Taylor leaves a wife and 12 children and a host of friends to mourn him. He was a blacksmith and farmer and served through the War from 1861 to 1865.
