Thursday, May 21, 1897
HIGH WATER INFORMATION
Last Thursday morning found the town of Marlinton humid, and the inhabitants in a state bordering on excitement, for the rain had fallen in the last thirty hours to the amount of 2.54 inches, and the town stands low on a narrow neck of land. It is quite true that the water never interferes with it, but there is always a might-be that leads people to believe there will come an old ’77 flood, when we will be covered with water and the people will have to fit. This is what, probably, gives some of our much talked about citizens a deep-rooted and abiding aversion to water in any other form than that of a “chaser.”
But everybody most did congregate on the abutments of the bridge and talked about high water and pitied those unfortunate people who would have to move when the water got high enough to force them from their homes.
The men talked of flooded gardens and cellars full of water, and the calamity. One man reported that the water had made a pond where the old black hen had her nest, and chilled all the eggs that would have been chickens in a few days, and how he was to break the news to the old brood hen so that she would understand and not go setting until the bleak November gales had slaked her enthusiasm…
The oldest man present remembered when about sixty years ago he came down from his home on the upland – from the same place where he now resides – to watch the river rise, and while standing near where the bridge now is the spectators were electrified to see a man’s hat floating down the river.
Next day he heard that the man to whom it belonged had been drowned while crossing Thorny Creek. His name was Twyman, a young school teacher. He and two companions had been to court at Huntersville, and coming to this stream endeavored to cross it. One, John Friel, had crossed; the second, James Sharp, was washed ashore on the side which he entered and saved himself. Twyman was swept away, and his long overcoat washing around the trunk of a small tree held his body until found later on…
DORR TELLS A STORY
Congressman Dorr, of West Virginia, has been heard from as a story teller. He was asked by Gov. Sayers, of Texas, a few days ago, what condition the Republican party of West Virginia was in, and here is what he said:
“Down near the little town of Owingsville, Bath county, Kentucky, where I visited occasionally some years ago, there lived a man named Sam Hatton. Hatton and his family existed on a scrub ten-acre farm near Owingsville, which produced very fine dog fennel and elderberries, but nothing better. At least Hatton never got anything better out of it. As a consequence, it was frequently the charity of kindly disposed neighbors that kept him and his family from absolute want. Among the contributions they received at intervals was hog jowls, which Preacher Matt McDaniel, a neighbor, sent over at hog killing time.
“Hatton had been a Union Soldier, and for years had on file at the pension office an application for a pension. One day there was a commotion in the Hatton family. It was caused by the arrival from Washington of a bulky envelope, which contained a communication from the commissioner of pensions notifying Hatton that he had been granted a pension, back pay for the present and a monthly stipend of $8 per month for the future. When he came out of his trance, Hatton went to Owingsville and proceeded to stock his larder in shape. A few days after he had received his pension money he met Preacher McDaniel.
“‘Mr. Hatton, said McDaniel, ‘we have just finished hog killing over at my place, and in my smoke house are several fine hog jowls, which I hope you and your family will enjoy.’
“‘Thankee, Mr. McDaniel,’ said Hatton, chuckling. ‘Thankee pow’rful, sir. Time wus when the Hattons sot considibul store in sich trimmin’s, but they’re a-eatin’ further back on the hog than the jowl, now.”
“And that,” said Dorr,” is the way with the Republican party in West Virginia. It is done with the jowl end of the political hog.”
W. W. Tyree has moved into his new home on the west side of the bridge.
Mrs. Mary A. McClintic has returned from Lewisburg where she has been spending the winter at the home of her kinsman, Jas. Withrow, Esq.
Hon. Wm. T. Beard, of Mill Point, has in his herd Prince Bismark, a fine young short horn bull brought from Kentucky. He weighs about 1,800 and is in fine condition having kept fat on a hay diet all winter and spring. In the same herd is “Susy,” a short horn cow. For the past ten or eleven days, after letting the calf have all the milk it wants, a three-gallon pail has been filled three times a day, such is the flow of milk.
Mrs. Nancy Callison, of Locust Creek, relict of the late Josiah Callison, Esq., now nearing 80 years of age, retains her health and mental vigor to a remarkable extent. She makes her home at the old homestead with her son, Richard. Two other sons, Thomas and William, live near. It is extremely interesting to hear her accurate reminiscences of the old families that made up the Levels more than fifty years ago. In due time our readers may share the pleasure with us.
Rain, high water, muddy roads, water gaps gone, some cornfields ruined, a very little corn planting has been done, no sheep have been clipped, and wool has reached the high price of 16 cents cash.
R. L. Nottingham started his wagons to Staunton for goods on Monday.
D. R. Taylor attended the reunion at McDowell and he reports about 2,000 people present.
The dogs have been playing the devil with the sheep and lambs.
It has developed that Charles Gibson, the victim of the Montgomery city gang, was the heir to an estate worth near a million dollars. He belonged to the criminal class himself and did not know of the fortune. His wife has been sentenced to 18 years’ confinement, as accessory to his murder. His children, tho doubts have been cast on their legitimacy, will doubtless inherit the wealth.