Thursday, October 13, 1898
George D. Saxton, brother-in-law of President McKinley, was shot and killed on the streets of Canton by a woman whose name had been coupled with his in divorce proceedings in the courts.
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There is a sweet potato pumpkin vine in H. J. Doyle’s cornfield at Clover Creek that is 84 feet in length and yielded 20 pumpkins, 10 of which were of good size.
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Died, suddenly, October 5, at her home near Indian Draft, Mrs. Nathan Barlow, aged about fifty years. She was a daughter of the late Peter Beverage. She was an industrious housekeeper and a kind neighbor, and will be greatly missed by her family.
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On Saturday, three hundred very nice cattle passed Marlinton, moving northwest for the Messrs Max-well. The most of them were for export purposes, judging from their fine order and grade. The present season is unusually favorable for moving cattle on foot. Instead of losing on the drive, the bullock will hold its own and may even improve.
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Captain S. A. Gilmor, of Highland County, says that the roads are so narrow in Pocahontas that it causes the greatest inconvenience. Between Marlinton and Huntersville, he met a team and was compelled to take off his horse’s shoes to get by. Bath, he says, is worse than Pocahontas. They have two ruts in the road that make the use of lynchpins unnecessary.
O. T. Milam, who was in jail for shooting William jail for shooting William Colley, succeeded in making peace with his family, and the State was left without witnesses. He was indicted for carrying concealed wea-pons and confessed and was fined and let go. The whole family has been given a broad hint to leave the county which, it is thought, they will not fail to improve.
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There was a Rose which had been raised in Greenbrier, but came up here during court and burst into full flower. He got to be too forward with his pistols while the sheriff was around who nabbed him, tied him on a horse and put him in jail. Rose was too drunk to know where he was until he woke up next morning to find himself in a cell. He came into court and confessed. He was a tall, green looking boy. He was fined and went home, but left his pistol to help defray the costs of the State in his behalf expended.
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George Pennington was indicted for stealing W. B. Freeman’s horse. He was brought into court and the State asked for a continuance. He is not a good looking man. When asked if he had counsel, he said he had not, and then the Judge told him he could have any of the lawyers he wanted, which was a very handsome offer on the part of the court. The prisoner shifted his eyes around the bar without settling on any one lawyer, and he then asked the Judge to “name a few of ‘em over.”
“Well,” said the Judge, “there is Mr. Rucker –”
“He’ll do,” said the prisoner, and a laugh went around the courtroom.
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The trial of James H. Ratliff indicted for selling cider, which resulted in a hung jury at the June term, had a new hearing at this court, which resulted in a verdict of guilty. The lowest fine ($10) was imposed, but the costs are very heavy – somewhere in the neighborhood of $75, it is said.
The whole question turned on whether the cider would intoxicate, and the gist of the evidence was that it was superior stuff, which would not only encourage a drink of whiskey but would intoxicate of itself if taken in considerable quantities. There was, evidently, no animus on his part, but that is inferred if the offense is proved. He evidently has had enough of the business, for he had no barrel in front of the courthouse for the first time in years.
THE EDITOR AND THE PEOPLE
An editor, who had conducted a newspaper for thirty long years, once decided that if he could find a man in his town to take charge for a week, he would go on a vacation. He therefore started out in search, and put the question to lawyers, doctors and men of all professions. To his amazement, each and everyone replied:
“I’ll take charge for you, of course, and I’ll show you that you never knew how to run a newspaper.”
When through with the professionals, the editor went among the mechanics and laboring men, but still the answer was the same. At the end of four days he had found but one single individual who doubted himself and who said:
“I am subject to fits and periods of temporary insanity, and perhaps I ought not to tackle the job, but I can tell you one thing just the same. What you ought to do is to drop the newspaper business and take to a sawmill.”
MORAL – The Editor pegged away without a vacation.