An Important Point

1916

It always seems unfortunate for a boy to have to wear spectacles. It holds him back from the rough and tumble of boy life. If the other boys pick on him, he can hardly retaliate until he has put his glasses away. By that time he may be sent spinning in the dirt, his glasses broken and perhaps an unreasonable punishment is awaiting him at home. But lifelong trouble may result from failure to wear them. Teachers and parents should look carefully for early indications of such defects, and get good advice about them. — East St. Louis Journal.

Mine Fire Burns 25 Years

1915

Blaze Thought Conquered, Rages in Remote Gangways

HAZELTON, Pa., Dec. 16. — The Lehigh & Wilkes-Barre Coal Company is fighting a mine fire at Honey Brook No. 1, that was believed to have been extinguished twenty-five years ago. Stripping operations at the west end of the basin of anthracite fuel uncovered the flames, which were eating up measures which were flooded in the eighties.

In 1906, when the water was tapped from Honey Brook, nine men were choked to death by white damp found in the workings of a residue from the mine fire twenty years ago. No further trace of the blaze was encountered, but it is now believed that it continued to rage in remote gangways cut off by falls of rock from the body of coal that was being worked.



"Didn't Know It Was Loaded"

Pugilist Killed While Fooling With Man's Rifle

NEW BRUNSWICK. N. J., Dec. 16. — George Reed walked into a lunch room here and placed his rifle in a corner and sat down to eat breakfast. In a few minutes Severin J. Kucinsky, a pugilist, 25 years old, came in.

He greeted everybody cheerfully. Then he walked over to the rifle, picked it up and placed the muzzle against his heart.

"Now," he said to Reed, "pull the trigger!"

Reed did so. Kucinsky died two hours later in St. Peter's Hospital. Reed was arrested. He said he thought the gun was empty.

The Ghurkas — Monkey Men of the Himalayas

1898

The average "monkey-man of the Himalayas" is by no means a type of beauty. A short body, little legs, round head, and flat features are a few of his prominent physical characteristics; and being for a long period clothed in one of the ugliest uniforms the genius of man ever invented, he could not compete in picturesqueness with the fine physique and carriage of the handsome Sikhs, Pathans, or Bayputs.

But, in spite of his unprepossessing appearance, once let his officers gain his respect, and he is ready to follow them with doglike fidelity, to "go anywhere and do anything," to use a hackneyed phrase; and those qualities which commend themselves to a Ghurka are the same as those which serve to endear an officer to the British private.

Indeed, the devotion, courage, energy of character, and love of enterprise of these formidable but merry little warriors are such that the writer of a recent article on the native army gives expression to his conviction that "there is not a single instance on record of Ghurka soldiers having failed in their duty against an enemy." — Pall Mall.

Comment: We're all so superior, aren't we?

A White Bean or Death — Struggling for Texas Independence

1878

A White Bean or Death

A Story of the Texas Struggle for Independence — Shot by the Mexican Authorities — Drawing the Lot for Life or Death

The events recorded below took place at Salado, Mexico, March 28, 1843, when seventeen Texans of the Mier expedition were shot by order of the Mexican authorities. The story is told by a correspondent who signs himself R. P. H., of Blanco, Texas, a brother of one who drew a white bean:

One hundred and-fifty-nine white beans were placed in the bottom of the mug and seventeen black ones placed upon the top of them. The beans were not stirred. Such was their anxiety to execute Captain Cameron, and perhaps the balance of the officers that first Cameron and afterward the other officers were made to draw a bean each from the mug in this condition.

Cameron, in the act of drawing first, said with his usual coolness: "Well, boys, we have to draw, let's be at it." So saying, he thrust his hand into the mug and drew out a white bean. Next came Colonel William F. Wilson, who was chained to him; then Captain William Ryan and then Judge F. H. Gibson, all of whom drew white beans. Next came Captain Eastland, who drew a black one, and then came the balance of the men. They all drew their beans with that manly dignity and firmness which showed superior to their condition.

Some of lighter temper jested over the bloody tragedy. One said, "boys, this beats raffling all to pieces." The knocking off the irons from the unfortunate told who they were. Poor Robert Beard, who lay upon the ground sick, said: "Brother, if you draw a black bean I'll take your place." The brother said : "No, I am stronger and better able to die than you." Several of the Mexican officers who officiated in the cruel violation of their country's faith expressed great dissatisfaction thereat, and some wept bitterly. Soon after the fated were placed in a separate courtyard, when about dark they were executed.

Several of our men were permitted to visit the unfortunate previously to the execution, to receive their dying requests. Poor Major Cooke said: "Boys, I told you I never failed to draw a prize; and then he said to Judge Gibson: "Say to my friends that I lived in grace." Judge Gibson was so much affected at this last parting that he showed it from his tears. The major said: "They only rob me of forty years," and then sat down and wrote a sensible and dignified letter to General Waddy Thompson, the United States minister to Mexico, and knowing that his remains would be robbed of his clothes after death, drew off his pants and handed them to his surviving comrades and died in his underclothes. Poor Henry Whaling, one of Cameron's best fighters, said: " Well, they didn't make much off me, anyhow, for I know I have killed twenty-five of the yellow dogs." Then demanding his dinner in a firm tone, saying that "they could not cheat me out of it," ate heartily, smoked a cigar, and in twenty-five minutes was launched into eternity.

Our interpreter, who was permitted to remain with them to the last, says that "fifteen times they wounded the iron-nerved soul, Henry Whaling, and it would seem that Providence had a special care in prolonging his existence that he might demonstrate to his enemies the national character they had to contend with, for he gritted his teeth at and defied them in terms of withering reproach, until they placed a gun to his head and blew his brains against the wall." Such was the effect of this horrible massacre upon their own soldiers, who were standing as guards upon the wall above, that one or them fainted and came near falling over, but was caught by his comrades.

Poor Terry, quite a youth, but in spirit a giant, said that "he was perfectly willing to meet his fate; that for his country he had fought and for her glory he was willing to die," and turning to the officers, said: "After the battle of San Jacinto my family took one of your youths prisoner, raised and educated him, and this is your requital." Edward Este spoke of his fate with coolness. Cash said: "Well, they murdered my brother with Colonel Fannin, and they are about to murder me. Tell the officer to look upon men who are not afraid to die for their country." Captain Eastland behaved with the most patriotic zeal. He desired that his country should never lay down her arms until the most ample reparation and her freedom was obtained. Major Robert Dunham said he "was prepared to die, and would to God that he had a chance to do the same thing over again; that he gloried in the demonstration they had made, which showed Texans without arms to be more than equal to Mexicans with arms." James Ogden, with his usual equanimity of temper, smiled at his fate, and said: "I am prepared to die." Young Robert W. Harris behaved in the most unflinching manner, and called upon his companions to avenge the murder, while their flowing tears and bursting hearts, invoking heaven for their witness, responded to the call. I have the utmost confidence that this pledge, so solemnly plighted, will be redeemed. They one and all invoked their country to do both them and herself justice.

Just previous to the firing they were bound together with cords, and their eyes being bandaged, they were set upon a log near the wall, with their backs to their executioners. They all begged the officers to shoot them in front and at short distance, as "they were not afraid to look death in the face." This they refused to do, fired at several paces, and continued the firing from ten to twelve minutes, mangling these heroes in a manner too horrible for description.

The names of the murdered men were : L. L. Cash, J. D. Cooke, Robert Dunham, Captain W. M. Eastland, Edward Este, Robert Harris, Thomas L. Jones, Patrick Manan, James Ogden, Charles Roberts, William Rowan; J. L. Shepherd, J. M. Thompson, James Terrey, James Turnbull, Henry Whaling, M. C. Wing. — Houston (Texas) Telegram.

George Washington Meets Fast-Talking Modern Man

Anaconda, Montana, 1914--

Some Observations by the Wanderer

What would the immortal George Washington say if he came to Butte for a day?

The dapper young swell would greet him, of course, with a few remarks, and into his speech inject enough of the present day lingo to make the father of his country wonder what the world is coming to.

"Lo, old top; you look like the ready-cash gazabo come to pipe the gang. Now, for a starter, suppose you shoot your lamps at that across the pike -- isn't she a pippin?"

"Old top, lamps, pippin? I do not understand your language, sir."

"Now, what do you know about that? Wouldn't it crimp you? Forget it, bo, get wise, take my hunch and polish your peepers. I'll put you next to yourself. You sailed in to see dear old Butte, didn't you? Then take my wing and we'll trek over to the swellest cabaret you ever bumped into. Some doings over there, believe me."

"Believe you? Why, my good man, I cannot believe my ears, or" -- his gaze riveted on a wisp of modern femininity, garbed up to the minute -- "my eyes, either."

"Ah, what's the gag; hereto pipe the procesh, ain't you? You're handing me something but don't you do it, see? You need a gin ricky; or how would a flapdoodle kerplunk dingbat at the Dutchman's strike you? Your pipes hot? Come on over to the glassy mahogany and we'll look at Reuben. No? How'd a trolley down to the place where they give a correct imitation of the hesitation and the bunny hug hit you? Can you fall for the dance? Looking for a joy ride? Name your choice and I'll dig; let's paint the old burg a lurid carinine, eh? Get me?"

"How strange it all seems. Would that my sleep had not been disturbed by the Mexican silence at Washington."

"Come out of it, old scout; you haven't sized up this dump yet. There's peaches and cream all over town. Take my steer and don't let any good thing get by."

"Farewell, my country; again, farewell my countrymen. This is not my counter -- these are not my countrymen. By heck, where am I at?"
----------
The old-fashioned man who established a checken ranch that his heir might enjoy the fruits thereof has a son who is doing his best to keep tab on the chickens.
----------
The average man who comes to see the sights of the town usually obtains his first impressions in the big mirror behind the mahogany.
----------
A new suit of clothes, a shine, a shave, a hat with the bow behind and a $10 bill have made millionaires out of many hard-working men.
----------
The apple of mother's eye sometimes develops into a pippin; often is regarded as a winesap; sometimes as a wealthy, but more than ever, as the summer approaches, she swings into the early transparent species.
----------
Father used to black his boots with soot from the stove lid and mother, on Sundays put a little corn starch on her ruddy chin. Both used charcoal on their teeth and read the Bible and preferred each other's company on all occasions. This day brings forth sons and daughters who never open the family Bible, never both about father only when money is needed and never mention mother's name in society and prefer any other company to that of their parents.
----------
Sometimes it is a fact that the man who picks his teeth with his fork and wipes off his whiskers with his knife and uses his fingers to lift the flapjacks to his mouth and passes up the finger bowl can write a check for thousands and live in his own house.
----------
It has been written that he who hesitates loses. That's all at variance with fact today -- the one who can hesitation best wins the prettiest girl.
----------
The good fellow invites half a dozen up to the bar and throws up two of the biggest silver dollars he can find. He accompanies his wife to church and fishes around in his pocket for the smallest nickel to throw into the plate.
----------
The majority of residents of Anaconda are not aware of the fact that a railroad used to run from a point near Washoe park diagonally across lots to Sheep gulch, up to a great quarry from which many hundreds of carloads of building rock had been taken. Lime rock also was mined in that part of the gulch and there were lime kilns there, too. Only traces remain of that once important industry.
----------
A man who says he is a pioneer of Anaconda, having come here about 17 years ago, accompanied a real old-timer up Park avenue the other day. Passing the brick building across the alley west of the Montana hotel the old-timer said to his young old-time friend:

"That building was the first brick church in Anaconda, one of the very first churches built here, if not the first."

The 17-year old-timer looked up and down the sides of the brick house and then at the old-timer. "That right? That a church once?"

"Sure it was, built by the Rev. Mr. Stanley, a pioneer South Methodist minister."

"Well, I'll be -- I didn't know that."
----------
And John L. Sullivan visited Anaconda in the early '80s, in the heyday of his importance as a fistic expert. He drew an enormous crowd to the old skating rink down in First street, since named Commercial avenue.
----------
One sees a very large number of things in one day in Butte if one be inclined to observe things in passing. One can almost say that one sees some things that are not in sight, so much is there before one's eyes. So much may be seen now that could not be seen a month ago. Butte is a remarkable town in many remarkable respects. It grows, it keeps apace, as they say in suffragist meetings, it is in some respects ahead of itself, and it never looks back to see if the rest of the procession is coming.
----------
The observer notes a wonderful change in everything, including fashions, since last fall. Now they wear high hats and flat hats, whereas last fall they wore flat hats and high hats, only they were built on different lines last fall.
----------
The observing visitor also notes a radical change in man's apparel. Looking back 25 years ago the observer beholds a kindly old gentleman in the act of shooting a man wearing a thing called a coat that looks more like something that someone had thrown out of a window and which fell on something alive. Nowadays that thing is called a top coat and the man wears it without molestation -- for it is vogue.
----------
The whiskey is the same, the people are the same, the atmosphere is the same, the cigars are the same, the hotels are the same -- only some visitors imagine that because they are away form home they can stand more abuse than they can at home.

--The Anaconda Standard, Anaconda, Montana, March 22, 1914, page 4.