Eloping Pair Are Wed Deep in Waving Corn

1916

Doctor Outwits Farmer's Wife in Race to Win Bride — All Ends Happily.

WILMINGTON, Delaware. — Maud Muller on a summer day never looked lovelier than Margaret Beattie, a farmer's daughter of Hockessin, when she stood a bride in the middle of a waving cornfield.

The bridegroom was Dr. Alvin Rupert, of New Rochelle, N. Y. It was a runaway match — so much so that the bride played her stately part in the fetching simplicity of a sunbonnet and a gingham frock.

A difference in religious beliefs had caused her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Beattie, of "Fernside," to forbid her marriage to Dr. Rupert on August 17, as the young people had arranged.

But the enamored doctor was not to be denied. Accompanied by his parents, Mr. and Mrs. John Rupert, he established quarters on a neighboring farm, that of William Crossan.

Communication had been forbidden, but the sighing pair discovered a hollow tree of the type traditionally favored by Cupid as a lover's postoffice, and thus in scribbled words they exchanged their hopes and plans.

Dr. Rupert came to Wilmington, procured a marriage license and a clergyman and motored with them back to Hockessin. Margaret Beattie met them at a turn in the road, having slipped away from her father's farm in her everyday clothes.

Fearful of pursuit, the wedding party hastily penetrated the sheltered expanse of a cornfield. It was as much as the minister could do, however, to get thru the service quickly enough to outspeed the bride's vigilant mamma, who had followed Margaret and arrived breathless just after the ring had been slipped on her finger.

Faced with the inevitable, the Beatties decided to forgive their daughter and her Lochinvar, and the happy pair went South for their honeymoon.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 5.

Whittier's Dog

1901

During one of the last birthday celebrations of the poet Whittier he was visited by a celebrated oratorio singer. The lady was asked to sing, and, seating herself at the piano, she began the beautiful ballad, "Robin Adair." She had hardly begun before Mr. Whittier's pet dog came into the room and, seating himself by her side, watched her as if fascinated and listened with a delight unusual in an animal. When she finished, he came and put his paw very gravely into her hand and licked her check.

"Robin takes that us a tribute to himself," said Mr. Whittier. "He also is 'Robin Adair.' "

The dog, hearing his own name, evidently considered that he was the hero of the song. From that moment, during the lady's visit, he was her devoted attendant. He kept by her side when she was indoors and accompanied her when she went to walk. When she went away he carried her satchel in his mouth to the gate and watched her departure with every evidence of distress. — St. Nicholas.

Maud Muller and the Aeroplane (poetry)

1914

By Henry Howland

Maud Muller, on a summer's day,
Was in the meadow raking hay.

She always had enjoyed good health,
But had a hankering for wealth.

Her cheeks were red, her eyes were brown,
She longed to live in the far-off town.

She wished she might be richly dressed,
And circulate among the best.

The judge came sailing up the lane
Upon his nice new aeroplane.

Below him he beheld the maid,
And tried to stop, and swooped and swayed.

He ripped a top rail from the fence,
And talked as if he had no sense.

The engine got beyond control,
The judge lost his immortal soul.

Maud stood there with a sickly grin,
Until he hit her with a fin.

"My lord!" she yelled, and ducked away;
The judge lit on a pile of hay.

She hurried where the spring gushed up
And filled her little old tin cup.

At first she thought the judge was dead,
But she splashed the water on his head.

He looked upon his aeroplane
And said some things that gave Maud pain.

At last he rose and, with a frown,
He started for the distant town.

Then bringing himself to a halt,
He said, "This, girl, is all your fault.

"If you had not been raking here,
I'd have stayed in the atmosphere.

"You've cost me dear and spoiled my sport;
I'll fine you for contempt of court!"

He then went onward up the lane,
And Maud returned to work again.

She gazed upon his wrecked machine,
And said, "Alas, what might have been!

"Ah, well, in heaven we'll all have wings,
And not depend on such fool things!"

Overshadowed Poet Whittier's Fame

1910

Thrifty Fellow-Citizen of Whittier Pointed Out Blot on His Memory

Will Carleton, in a speech before the Writer's club, related the following reminiscence of a visit to the poet Whittier's old home:

"I was billed to lecture one evening at the town which had been for long years the home of the Good Quaker poet. Just before I went over to the hall, a thrifty-looking citizen accosted me.

"Will you probably say anything in praise of Mr. Whittler, tonight?" he asked, after a few general remarks.

"Why, yes," I replied, "I had thought of referring to him, and in a very complimentary way. I have read, admired, and revered him, all my life, and it will he a privilege, here in his own town, to add my humble tribute to that of the world at large."

"Well, that's all right," responded the thrifty-looking citizen," and we've no objection in particular, to your doing so; but you mustn't be disappointed if you don't get any applause with it."

"Why?" I inquired. "Was he not idolized here — is not his memory held in veneration? Has he not advertised this town all over the world?"

"Well, perhaps so," was the reply, "but after he died, we found out that he wasn't paying taxes enough on what property he owned, and, don't you see, it has kind of made him unpopular."

John Burroughs' Simple Life: Mind Your Own Business

1917

"Keep Cheerful and Mind Your Own Business," Is the Message of John Burroughs

John Burroughs, famous American naturalist and writer, and leading disciple of the simple life, is eighty years old. He has lived with nature since boyhood, and knows the birds, the squirrels and the butterflies, the woods, the fields and the mountain streams. He was the friend of Lincoln, of Emerson, of Holmes, of Whittier and of Walt Whitman. His recollections of these great friends are sufficient companions for John Burroughs in his woodland cabin. "I am very happy in my work, and I hope to write a book each year for many more years," he says. He is at his best, despite his age, and leads an active life in the open. His message to the world is: "Keep cheerful and mind your own business."

Mr. Burroughs taught school in his youth, became a bank examiner, and had a promising career before him in financial affairs, when he discarded ambition for wealth to lead the simple life. His first book was his "Notes on Walt Whitman," published in 1867. During the past half-century he has written constantly, and has contributed much to the nature library. He married Ursula North in 1857, and in the winter time he now makes his home with his daughter and grandchildren at West Park, N. Y.

Unity Club Discusses Six Poets, Studying "Cranks" Next Week

Newport, Rhode Island, 1896

Unity Club.

The miscellaneous literary evening last Tuesday proved to be a very pleasant one, at which the six New England poets, now dead, were discussed. Miss Emily B. Chace read a short paper on Ralph Waldo Emerson, Miss Maude Harrington on John G. Whittier, Miss Emily Bradley on H. W. Longfellow, Miss Ada Crandall on James Russell Lowell, and Miss Grace Brazier on William Cullen Bryant. Extracts were read from their most celebrated poems. Miss Maude Harrington displayed considerable elocutionary power in her reading of Whittier's soul stirring poem entitled "Barbara Frietchie." The idea of having one evening devoted to the study of six New England poets was an excellent and very successful one. The next study evening is on the 5th of March and the two subjects to be treated on will be "Galileo" and "Cranks."

—Newport Mercury, Newport, Rhode Island, March 2, 1895, page 1.




A. O'D. Taylor's Paper On "Cranks," at Unity Club, March 5, 1895

Newport, Rhode Island, 1895.

On "Cranks."

At a Study meeting of the Unity Club held on Tuesday evening the 5th instant, Mr. A. O'D. Taylor read a short essay on "Cranks," of which we have the pleasure in giving a summary. He treated the subject in a thoroughly original way, and it created considerable merriment amongst his audience.

He began by saying that the oft-quoted recipe of Mrs. Glasse for making hare soup, "First catch your hare!" might well be quoted as an introduction. That saying was really one of the humorous Tom Hood's brilliancies, and originally ran "Ahem! Hare! First catch your hare then do him till he's done." Mr. Taylor went on to remark, I would therefore say "Crank! Ahem, first catch your crank, then do him till he's done." With this view, I invited three specimens here tonight, in an apparently guileless way, but they all refused to come, having evidently some furtive idea that they were wanted for illustrations. We must, therefore, do without them. It is all well enough to begin in this jocular way, but before we are "done" you will probably feel uncomfortably warm, and say this essay is no laughable matter at all.

What is a "crank?" He then explained the mechanical crank, the bit of machinery; then the application of the idea of a twist therein involved, to topography, to speech, and to the mind. But, like all words which first have an objective and clearly defined meaning of some material thing the word "crank" has, by colloquial use, come to be applied to human character, to individuals, and in the sense of meaning a person given to impracticable schemes, one who has a twist in his mental perceptions, one whose judgment is perverted on some one particular subject. The use of the word as a noun in this sense is much more general in the United States than in Great Britain and Ireland. Yet it is not what is sometimes called an Americanism, except in the usage of being applied to people. As a word applied to caprice, whim or crotchet, or even a fit of temper, it is a provincial and truly English word — while its application to a human being is American, and apparently originated in New England. May there not be a good side as well as a bad one, in cranks? May not the crank of 1605 become the sage of 1845? We are censorious. There is no harm in forming a judgment; that arises automatically by the exercise of our reason, but the golden rule "Judge not that ye be not judged" means, and would be better translated "Condemn not, that ye be not condemned." He then spoke of the murderous crank like Guiteau, the economic crank like the absurd Coxey — the religious crank, the political crank, the domestic crank, the literary crank, and the scientific crank. Or it might actually be some Unity Club crank, who tells you that he has long noticed with alarm the steadily increasing influx of female members into the club, and that, if the men do not stand shoulder to shoulder, every office of honor, those of President, Vice President, Secretary, Treasurer &c., will be snatched from them by triumphant women, and that the only evening on which men will be allowed to open their mouths, will be on a "Miscellaneous Literary Evening." Then, perhaps half a dozen of the tamest and best behaved males will be allowed to read extracts from the works of approved and strictly moral authors selected for them by the female directorate.

Mr. Taylor then outlined the characteristics of enthusiasts, oddities, devotees, visionaries and fanatics. Without enthusiasts the world would stand still. Fanatics are not mere cranks; they are more dangerous, more united in action, less individual — a herd of wild animals instead of one. He then discussed psychologically the boundary lines between sanity and insanity showing how feelings can arise outside the sphere of sensation. It is when emotions are not controlled by the will, but are allowed to develop into passions, that the process of mental disintegration begins, that the bounds of sanity are overstepped. But in the good natured sense of the word "crank" we often include all those who differ a little bit from the ordinary hum-drum people of the world. We have a sort of affection for such "cranks," in fact nearly every family will privately confess to you that it has one in its own domestic fold, quietly packed away, either sitting reading in the parlor, or just gone to bed.

The grandmother who is "crank" enough to tell Carrie that it would be better for her to be mending her little brother's stockings, than sitting up past midnight in a twilight room with her lover Harry — is probably both a sensible and loveable old lady, despite her alleged "crankiness." The father who is so "cranky" as positively to prevent his growing son from joining some young men's club where billiards and cards are played every evening, and where just a glass of beer or a little claret and water, can be had by any one who is thirsty — may be regarded by his young hopeful as a "crank" about drink, but the boy will probably live to bless the day, when his old "dad" showed that cranky turn. And our young lady — who sulked when advised to mend the stockings — will probably, when a grown-up woman feel that her dear old "crank" of a grandmother had given her an excellent lesson in pointing out that domestic duty ranged above a personal gratification.

In the working world of men, we all know some other wise good fellow, who is simply a terror on a committee. A man whom no argument can convince, who is as set in his opinion and hard as a rock, when he has taken up some position opposed to the majority. He is a "crank" for the time being, of the first rank; for he has espoused some crotchet which all his peers agree to be impracticable, yet he holds on to it like a bulldog. Yet may it not be that such men — in the first place — are sent as a sort of test of our good temper, as a trial for our forbearance? and in the second place, is it not possible, that as this whirligig of time goes on, we are amazed to discover that the one obstinate man, the so-called "crank" on the jury was right — and that the other eleven men in the box were wrong?

This has many a time happened; and the lesson I draw from it is this. There is a good side to the apparent "crank." As I said in the early part of this paper the supposed "crank" of today, may be the admitted sage of tomorrow.

The records of science and literature bear ample testimony to this view, Galileo furnishes a notable instance. Socrates was regarded as a dangerous "crank" — and had to die – why? because he was the noblest and best man of his age.

Cornelius Agrippa, a philosopher and chemist, was regarded by the people as an object of horror, and sometimes found the streets empty at his approach, why? Because he had displayed a few philosophical experiments which any school boy can now perform but which was then supposed to be magical. He was a terrible "crank."

Roger Bacon, said to have been the inventor of gunpowder was equally hated as a "crank" and worse, because he knew more about the constituents of matter, and what their combinations effected than his neighbors did.

Petrarch the poet, was supposed to hold counsel with some demon, as the inspirer of his poems; and Descartes the materialistic philosopher, was horribly persecuted in Holland for his opinions on scientific subjects. There is no doubt that the idea which we now associate with the word "crank" was in some degree applied in those bygone days to the famous men whom I mention.

Religious, political, social erudities — novelties whose superstructure attracts, but which have no real foundation — are pre-eminently the hobbies of "cranks." Let us bear in mind that present conditions have grown, by the unfaltering process of evolution, out of the past; and that all innovations are very far from being reforms. A new thing is not necessary a true thing, and this is what the dangerous "crank" cannot be made to believe. As a rule when a great change is to be made in human affairs, the minds of men will be fitted to it, the general opinions and feelings will draw that way. As Edmund Burke wrote when treating of the French Revolution — "Every fear, every hope, will forward any mighty change and then, they who persist in opposing this mighty current in human affairs, will appear rather to resist the decrees of Providence itself than the mere designs of men."

Strange it is, yet true, that those who are quick to perceive faults and defects, do not make the best reformers. "By hating vices too much, they come to love men too little." So it is in certain well-meant efforts to set wrong habits right. The measures adopted omit human nature. And, as regards theories of government, we will find, in looking quietly round, that much as we have been led to believe that fanaticism about some dogma in religion is the worst sort of fanaticism — fanaticism about some form of government really excites men as much, and that political fanaticism is nearly as bad as religious rancor. In these two great regions the "crank" is always pre-eminent. Of late years the economic "crank" is also becoming dangerous, with all sorts of absurd nostrums for reforming the social fabric, ignoring the human texture of which that fabric is made.

What, finally, is the outcome of all these random reflections which I have jotted down?

It seems as if what the old divine, Bishop Hall, wrote, nearly 260 years ago, strikes the true key for us in our investigation. "Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl chain of all virtues."

Even though enthusiasts on any subject, we can be moderate with those who differ from us. We can avoid ever being "cranks." Each of us can so control his will, so weigh his conclusions, as not to be betrayed into morbid habits of thought or act, can so guide himself, by nurturing a regard for others and the feelings of others, as never to become an abnormal excrescence on society — never be a "crank." Each of us should study to be

"Rich in saving common sense,
And — as the greatest only are —
In his simplicity, sublime."

—Newport Mercury, Newport, Rhode Island, March 9, 1895, page 1.


In our issue of today we give our readers a tolerably full report of a paper read this week before the Unity Club on "Cranks," by a well-known literary gentleman of our city, who is the president and managing director of the Newport Herald. As it is an unusually interesting paper, and as neither the Herald nor the Daily News published any outline of it, we feel glad in being enabled to furnish our readers and the public with a summary. "Cranks" can be found even in Newport.

—Newport Mercury, Newport, Rhode Island, March 9, 1895, page 4, editorial page.