Thursday, July 9, 1897
Oh, he preached it from the housetops,
And he whispered it by stealth;
He wrote whole miles of stuff against
the awful curse of wealth;
He shouted for the poor man,
and he called the rich man down.
He roasted every king and queen
Who dared to wear a crown.
He hollered for rebellion,
And he said he’d head a band
To exterminate the millionaires,
To sweep them from the land.
He yelled against monopolies,
Took shots at every trust,
And swore he’d be an anarchist,
To grind them in the dust.
He stormed, he fumed and ranted,
Till he made the rich men wince,
But an uncle left him money,
And he hasn’t shouted since.
~ New Orleans Times-Democrat
THE LATE rains have caused big floods in many places. Gauley River was higher last Thursday than any time in the memory of man. Elk River was as high almost as last year and much damage was done. The Sutton boom broke, and at Charleston a large lot of timber and ties passed out into the river. Near Marlinton, Swago and Stony Creek have been high a number of times. The Dry Branch of Swago was wetter than it has been since the war, as it took out logs cut into the bed of the run by John Armstrong directly after the war. A drummer was watering his horse at the ford at Buckeye and saw the water coming in a wave of about four feet high. Before he could drive out, the water almost ran in his buggy, and by the time he reached the bank, the stream could not have been forded. Indian Draft came down in a tidal wave last Thursday. This is a warm wet summer, so far.
TROUT SHUE, formerly of Droop Mountain, was found guilty of murder in the first degree, in the Greenbrier court, the jury recommending a life sentence. The evidence was convincing that Shue had murdered his wife by breaking her neck, and the case presented this aspect that the woman died of a broken neck, and that it was impossible for her to break it herself, and that no one could have done it except her husband. What was the closing scene of the woman’s life will probably never be known, but the explanation of the “vision” of the woman’s mother gives a very striking suggestion of the last quarrel which ended in the death of the woman.
She said that her daughter appeared to her and said that on the last evening she had gotten a good supper except there was no meat on the table, and that her husband had become enraged on account of it.
Shue is a bad man and he has no sympathy from the neighborhood in which he was raised.
From an exchange we gather the following facts concerning the murder, all of which point to Shue as the murderer:
About 10 o’clock on the morning of the day, January 23, 1897, on which Mrs. E. S. Shue was found dead, E. S. Shue, the prisoner, after having been to his blacksmith shop, went to the house of a negro woman and asked the son of this woman to go to his house and hunt the eggs and then go to Mrs. Shue and see if she wanted to send to the store for anything. This boy went to the house of Shue, and after looking for eggs and finding none, he went to the house, knocked and received no response, opened the door and went in. He found the dead body of Mrs. Shue, lying upon the floor. The body was lying stretched out perfectly straight with feet together, one hand by the side and the other lying across the body, the head was slightly inclined to one side. The boy ran and told his mother that Mrs. Shue was dead and then went on to the blacksmith shop and told E. S. Shue, the prisoner, that his wife was dead. Shue and the negro woman ran to the house, both arriving there about the same time.
Dr. Knapp was called in, after the body had been laid out and dressed, and pronounced Mrs. Shue dead. The dress in which the corpse was dressed had a high, stiff collar. There were slight discolorations on the right side of the neck and right cheek. The doctor unfastened the collar and examined the front of the neck and right cheek and was about to examine the back of the neck when Shue, the prisoner, protested so vigorously that he desisted from further examination, and left the house.
The body was taken to the Meadows and buried. A few weeks afterwards, owing to suspicious conduct and conversations of the prisoner, a post mortem examination was ordered. This examination was conducted by Drs. Knapp, Rupert and McClung.
The examination disclosed that the neck was dislocated between the first and second vertebrae. The ligaments were torn and ruptured. The windpipe had been crushed at a point in front of the neck. All other portions and organs of the body were apparently in a perfectly healthy state.
JOHN JORDAN, the ancestor of the relationship of that name in lower Pocahontas, was a very worthy native of Ireland. By occupation, he was a tailor, and when he once met a fellow member of the craft after a prolonged separation, his friend was very demonstrative in the pleasure the meeting afforded him. In his joyful exhilaration as a special manifestation of his delight he struck his friend Jordan on the back of his hand with a side blow of his own. This friendly lick was so powerful as to inflict a bruise so serious in its effects as to necessitate amputation of the arm just below the elbow. Nevertheless, he learned to use a hoe and an axe to a good purpose in after life.
Mr. Jordan came to this region as a traveling merchant, dealing in Irish Linens and other portable merchandise. He was a “hard money” man in his financial preferences, and converted all paper money he received into silver and gold. Miss Miriam McNeel, daughter of John McNeel, the Levels pioneer, found out in some way that the young merchant had about a half-bushel of coin, and it seemed to occur to her mind that if a person disabled as he was could make that much money, he could certainly take good care of her. To the surprise of her friends that a nice sensible girl as she was should fancy a cripple, she did not discourage the attentions of the hustling young Irishman, and they were happily married.
At that period in our local history a young man’s recommendation was his ability to clear land, split rails and grub; but to marry a cripple in store-clothes was not to be thought of.
After their marriage, Mr. Jordan continued to prosper in making a living, and purchased some servants to wait on the girl that had made such a surprising venture as to marry him. He settled on the Mill Stone Run, between Hillsboro and Locust, opening up a property now in possession of Isaac M. McNeel, Esq., whose wife, Miriam Nannie Beard, is a granddaughter of the pioneer merchant.
There were five sons and three daughters, John, Jona-than, Isaac, Abram, Franklin, Jane, Nancy and Martha…
GO AFTER IT
BE PROMPT in your business engagements.
Agree to do nothing that you cannot do and then do all that you agree to do. Live up to your promises. If you say you will have a job done at 10:30 a.m. on a certain day, have it done if you have to sit up all the night before. It will not do at 10:33 a.m.
This is the way to do business, to retain business and get more business. Make exertion, and watch your trade increase
Let people know that you are alive.
Do not put a little advertisement in a newspaper one day, and then sit down and expect to get rich from your dollar’s worth of publicity.
Follow it up.
“Keeping everlastingly at it is the keystone to success.”
Be sure that you have bargains to present, and then keep presenting them.
This is the way to prosperity in business – no matter what the business may be.
Don’t sit down and cry “hard times.”
Hustle out and make business, and business will come your way. State
THE LINWOOD FISHING PARTY
A FISHING party composed of C. W. Showalter, J. H. Slanker, E. S., W. B. and A. W. Gatewood, J. S. Var-ner, Grant Higgins, J. H. Gibson, G. P. Beverage and Dr. J. H. Lynch left this place on the 22nd for a week’s fish on Gauley River. After a half-day’s hard walk, we reached the Sharp Camp, but, finding the fishing not good near that camp, we concluded to extend our trip on to Camp Cogar, a distance of about eight miles through the mountains. On reaching it, we went into camp for the night. After a few moments rest, the veteran cook, Charles Showalter, proceeded to prepare supper for the party, while Dr. Lynch administered a few doses of Lynch’s “Golden Medical Discovery” to those of the party who were very much fatigued by the hard day’s journey, and which seemed to have the desired effect, inasmuch as it gave each of the convalescents a ravenous appetite, such as only a fisherman can have.
In the twinkling of an eye, and before the cook could remonstrate, the supper of hardtack and mountain trout had totally disappeared from the eyes of man, whereupon Dr. Lynch declared that such a course was in direct opposition to the long and well established laws of digestion. The doctor’s opinion, however, being overruled, we lighted our pipes and prepared to listen to the wild and wooly anecdotes told by members of the party who had been there before, where the cry of panther and the howl of the wolf was the only food for the ears of man.
After listening to the recital of the hair-breadth escapes of Dr. Lynch, and some of Cook Showalter’s record breakers, we turned to enjoy what proved to be an undisturbed night’s repose, such as cannot be indulged in outside of the mountain fastnesses surrounded by the wilds of nature, and the fresh, invigorating mountain air of unquestioned pureness.
We awoke with refreshed nerves, empty stomachs and a determination to conquer some of cook Showalter’s “hard to tackle” grub, which, had it not been for the ever ready Dr. Lynch, the medical factotum, might have cost the lives of the whole party.
After being duly recuperated by an administration of Lynch’s “Compound Cow-Pumpkin Pills,” the party set out for the unrivaled fishing district of Gauley where you only bait your hook and jerk’ em out like lightning…. As the day and cloudless sky were most suitable for the sport, the day’s fishing was a howling success, the river having been followed to what is known as the Three Forks of Junction Box of the Gauley. The catch numbered between six and seven hundred of the finest specimens of mountain trout…
We returned to camp, where supper was quickly prepared from the fine catch and as quickly devoured by the hungry crowd of Linwood Sports.
The night was being pleasantly spent in old encounters “lived o’er” when suddenly to the despair of all, the unearthly cry of the panther – which resembles the cry of a young child – was heard. He was quickly located – subject to optical delusion – in a laurel thicket not far from camp. Armed with penknives and popguns, we sallied out to give battle, but were recalled by Eugene Gatewood and Johnny Varner, who soon convinced us of the uselessness of giving battle with such a beast with such arms as we possessed…
The panther scare had given us a shock as lasting and as beneficial as that of a galvanic battery…
A part of the day was spent peacefully fishing on the Gauley, which at this point is a stream of considerable size. The weather being just right, we made a catch of nearly five hundred. After which, bidding old Gauley an affectionate good-bye, we turned our faces homeward, where we arrived safely, fortunately none the worse for the wear and tear.
That the anniversary of this trip may be celebrated in each succeeding year by each succeeding generation through all the years to come is the burden of our hopes. –
ESSAY ON ‘THE HOME’
THIS IS one of the most beautiful of words. How many pleasant thoughts it suggests! Tender memories of father, mother, sister, brother – all that are near and dear in life cluster around this word. Webster defines home as a dwelling place; it should be something more, an earthly paradise, where we are always sure of finding sympathy, be our troubles what they may.
It requires not wealth to make a model home; a few good books and periodicals, a few pretty pictures that everyone likes to see, and flowers and music help to make home really attractive. Above all, let there be kind words and loving deeds, charity for each other’s faults and praises for their virtues. What a contrast such a home presents to that where vice and ignorance prevail, where there are perpetual fault findings, scolding, ear-boxing and hair-pulling.
It is said that the home influence shapes the destiny of the child. The word “home” sounds dear to us all, be it a mansion or a cabin among the mountains. Others may have finer houses and costlier furniture, they may fare sumptuously from dishes of silver and gold, but they are not to be compared with our own dear home.
A young man who has gone to seek his fortune in the world wanders far from home, at last grows weary, and like the prodigal says, “I will arise and go to my father.”
He returns to the old homestead, but the place is going to ruin, the fences are all down, the paths are overgrown with grass, and the beautiful flower garden that his mother loved so well is now overrun with weeds and brambles. The father and mother, weary of watching and waiting, are now in their lowly graves, and the forms that he cherished are mouldering back to dust. Only the lettered stones now tell where they repose.
He is alone in the dear old home that was once so full of life, ringing with the laughter of merry girls and boys; but, ah, where are those boys and girls now?
Some are at rest in the churchyard forever that used to meet around this dear home tree, while the living may be far away.
As he stands looking at the familiar scenes around him, a picture rises before his eyes and he sees his home as he saw it last, and himself again with father, mother, sister and brother gathered around the fireside.
There sits his mother in the old armchair with a smile on her beautiful face and her knitting in her hand.
Opposite is his father (with his hair just beginning to streak with gray) reading the evening paper.
Mary is playing a melody on the cottage organ while they all join in the beautiful chorus of “Home, Sweet Home.”
The sweet music at lasts dies away, and he awakens from his memory dream saying, “I have learned too late that there is no place like home.”
M. ETHEL SHARP
MILL POINT, W. Va.