Lived Though Terribly Injured

1895

Henry J. Lutton is 60 years old, and his home is in Clarendon, Warren county, Pa. On Aug. 10, 1885, Lutton, who was an oil operator, was working at the foot of a derrick being built on the hillside. Through some cause or other a three-fourths inch iron bar 21 feet long fell from the top of the derrick, 74 feet. One end of the bar struck on the right of Lutton's neck, went in between the jugular and windpipe, came out 1½ inches from the right nipple, struck two inches below the groin on left limb, out 3½ inches above the right knee joint and took off one of his toes, the bar burying itself eight inches in the ground.

Lutton was standing on the hillside at the time, and 9 feet 10 inches of the bar passed through him. It passed through 17 inches of his neck and body, and 11½ inches went through his limb. The victim was pinned to the ground, but showed his wonderful presence of mind by sliding down from the slight elevation he was standing on to the ground. He called on a man of the name of Phillips, who extracted the bar.

Lutton lingered at the point of death for six weeks and lived six days and seven nights on beef blood and brandy, which was administered by means of a rubber tube. — Pittsburg Dispatch.

Bear Saves Child From Its Mate

YOUNGSTOWN, Ohio, Oct. 6. — Frightfully mangled by a captive bear in Idora Park, 10-year-old Selma Lewis, daughter of Fred Lewis, was saved only by the interference of the companion bear in the cage. The little girl was feeding acorns to the bear when it suddenly reached through the bars of the cage, scalping her, frightfully mangling her right arm and biting off three of her fingers. She screamed and the other bear in the cage rushed at its mate, compelling it to loosen the hold on the child. The girl was taken to the city hospital, where her death is expected at any moment.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Oct. 9, 1909.

In Safety and Danger

1905

The Scientific American recently called attention to the odd fact that the man who rides a few score feet in a New York City elevator runs a greater risk of injury than the man who travels from New York to Chicago and back on the fastest trains. No fewer than thirty persons were killed, and many more hurt, in New York elevator accidents in the first nine months of this year. No such proportion of those who traveled on the fastest passenger trains between the two cities were even hurt.

Yet the average man buys an accident insurance ticket whenever he starts on a railway journey of any length, and never thinks of such precautions before entering the car that lifts him to his office. Whenever a notable railway accident occurs he talks for days about the great loss of life. But he never thinks of the proportionately greater loss of life every day from accidents that befall men at home in their own houses.

The returned missionary who publicly complained the other day that, after living entirely unhurt for four years among the wildest savages of Africa, he had no sooner returned to civilization than he met with a railway accident that kept him in a hospital for six months curiously illustrated the habit of the human mind to dwell upon remote dangers and ignore those near.

Yet the fact is indisputable — the accident insurance companies have proved it to their financial loss and gain — that one of the most dangerous places a man can be is in his own home, whereas one of the safest is in a first-class railway train at full speed, while the very safest place on earth is aboard a first-class steamship in the middle of the Atlantic. — Chicago Inter Ocean.

Armless Judge Going to Europe to Aid Crippled

1915
Click Photo for Bigger

There He Will Arrange Plans to Help Allies' Maimed

Photo Caption: With only his mechanical arm — designed by himself — Judge Quentin D. Corley dresses and shaves himself, handles his own food, writes his own opinions and handles his own records in the County Court of Dallas County, Texas. He drives an auto, bowls, plays billiards, carries bundles and even helps his wife with the housework.

Over in Europe there are many armless men who feel they are hopelessly helpless. So the Dallas judge is going abroad to do what he can to aid war victims "for humanity's sake," as told in another column on this page.

The top picture shows Judge Corley completing his dressing operations. A contrivance, attached to a suit case, permits him to put on his collar and tie. With an almost similar machine he shaves himself. Below is a photograph of the judge bowling.

DALLAS, Texas, Dec. 16. — Quentin D. Corley, the "armless judge" of this city, will soon take up the burden of the maimed in the European conflict. On Dec. 22 he will leave for Washington, D. C., to confer with an official whose name is not known and who had told the Belgium ambassador to America that Judge Corley, the armless, does the work of a man in everyday life.

It is expected that the judge will sign a contract with the Allies to teach armless soldiers to be happy and to be useful.

The judge says any work he may do will be for the sake of humanity and not for money. "I shall only accept the same salary. I am getting now, and expenses," he says. "If they see fit to honor me if I do their men a service, I shall be glad of that, too."

Story of the Judge's Career

Judge Corley's story is a strange one. He was of a roving disposition when young, and took no qualms at satisfying it as a guest of the railroads. He was riding thru New York State on a freight train when a burly brakeman's head showed over the far end of the car. He slipped and fell as he tried to flee. The trainmen picked him up a poor, mangled youth. One arm was gone at the shoulder and the other just above the elbow.

As he lay in the hospital fighting for life, he began figuring how he would use that life once he was out again.

"I strove to invent and picture in my mind a mechanical hand, but of course I could not get anything but the open and shut movement; no one has," he says. "Then I thought that if I made an arm with an elbow joint in it, and so rigid that it would have both lateral and perpendicular movement, I had the problem solved."

A youth of 23, seemingly handicapped for all time and yet doomed by a healthy body to live a long life, Corley came home to his parents in Dallas with only his idea of a mechanical arm — and a deathless ambition to conquer the terrible odds against him.

How His Plans Worked Out

For four years he studied law with all the mental force of his brilliant mind, and at night he spent hours upon the plan for his mechanical arm. When completed, it was a steel hook made of two steel flanges, which opened and shut on cogs, a little handle which turned them being worked by his teeth. In this way he gripped things tightly, and with the hook he could handle almost anything he could lift.

From then on it was easy. He soon learned to write and then passed the bar examination. He began to practice law and to practice the use of his arm, and study means by which he could use it. His progress was wonderful. He invented other machines, to be used in dressing and sport, until today he can do almost anything a normal being desires to do.

He has a desire bordering on passion to aid the soldiers who have lost both arms in battle. There were more than ten thousand of them in the Allies' armies alone at last count.

Wants to Make Them Useful

"I know I can teach them to use my inventions within a short time, and I want to do it," he says. "I want them to get away from the terrible feeling that they are burdens upon the state and upon their families. If they'll put these men in my hands I can teach a thousand in three months to use this arm and take their places in life and seek happiness."

His friends say he can do it, too. He has pupils all over Texas who are learning from him the secrets. They invariably make good when he turns them loose.

Judge Corley has the inventions he uses patented, but does not sell them. "I have them for humanity," he says.

The plan on which the Belgian ambassador is said to want Judge Corley to work will be a school under his supervision, at which armless men will be equipped and trained by him. It will take him to Europe about four years, if the war continues a year or so longer.

—Saturday Blade, Chicago, Dec. 18, 1915, p. 5.

Bombonnel — One of the Ugliest Men in Dijon

1900

Bombonnel, the panther-slayer, was a name at one time known all over France; later, the mighty huntsman's fame in the chase was overshadowed by that which he acquired in the Franco-Prussian War as a leader of sharpshooters. Miss Betham-Edwards, who knew him well, gives, in her recent "Anglo-French Reminiscences," many entertaining glimpses of this remarkable man.

It is as a mighty hunter that the world outside of France finds him chiefly interesting; and the more so as it was he who suggested the "Tartarin of Tarascon" of Alphonse Daudet, and figured in many respects as the model of that delightfully comic hero, who has brightened the study of French to so many aspiring students.

It is only fair to add, that if Tartarin was a talker, first and foremost, and a man of adventures with scarcely more than a peg to hang his narratives upon, Monsieur Bombonnel was a great talker, indeed, but had great things to tell.

Bombonnel's panther-hunting took place in Algeria. He had slain more than fifty of these beasts. One nearly slew him, for he met it in a hand-to-claw encounter, and emerged from the conflict victorious, but frightfully mangled.

He had received five wounds on the left hand, eight in the left arm, four in the head, ten in the face, four in the mouth, and besides these his nose was broken, he had lost several teeth, and one cheek was clawed to shreds. It was at first supposed that he would die; then that he would be disfigured to monstrosity. But fortunately, although in a remote place, without anaesthetics or proper nursing available, Doctor Bodichon, a famous surgeon, was at hand to patch him up.

"I can in great measure restore your physiognomy; at any rate, I can give you features that will be human," said the physician, after examining his hurts. "But I warn you beforehand, the suffering will be horrible."

"Doctor," was the reply, "do your best. I can answer for myself. My heart is sound."

So was his courage. He endured like an Indian, and emerged from the ordeal a battered and ugly man, it is true, but of a countenance not monstrous nor repulsive. Such disfigurement as did not disgust his friends did not trouble him at all.

He was walking one day with Monsieur B., a man of unfortunately harsh features, when the pair were startled to hear a street boy sing out:

"There go Bombonnel and Monsieur B., the two ugliest men in Dijon!"

"Not so loud, my little friend. Let folks find it out for themselves," said the amiable Monsieur B., while Bombonnel burst out laughing, and was always delighted afterward to relate the incident.

Ugly or not, Bombonnel became very popular, and was much feted by fine ladies and distinguished people.

"Whenever I am now in Algeria," he related, quite in the "Tartarin" manner, "a cover is always laid for me at the governor's table. But I invariably come away hungry as when I took my place! Great folks invite me not to feast, but to tell stories. It is, 'Now, Monsieur Bombonnel, for the lion of the Corso,' or, 'Now, Monsieur Bombonnel, for the lion of Batna,' and so on, and so on, all the while. What would you have? Fame is not to be had for nothing." — Youth's Companion.

Life-Destroying and Life-Saving

1900

An eminent physician lately called attention to the important part wars have taken in hospital development. He declared that the Crimean War developed the trained nurse and the training-school. In the American Civil War, medical men learned that small hospitals, and even hospital tents, are better than large enclosed structures for the sick and wounded. To the knowledge thus gained is due the pavilion tent.

It was war, also, it is asserted, that led, not to the discovery, but to the introduction, of antiseptic surgery. Medical science will profit by the conflict now in progress in South Africa. Through disease and wounds there treated, benefit will come to the civilized world.

Thus out of a great evil may come a great good; for war compels resort to every expedient to save the lives of one's own soldiers, no less than to destroy the lives of those in the hostile army.

Moreover, the experience gained in the effort to save life is at the service of the world. There is nothing provincial or selfish in genuine surgical or medical skill. Its work and triumphs are for all men. Quackery conceals information which may help the race, except as it disposes of the knowledge for cash; but the surgeons and the physicians of approved attainment and experience feel that their mission is limited only by the bounds of possible service to their kind. In war, in peace, under favorable or perilous conditions, appreciated or criticised, the good physician, the conscientious operator, does his duty, and is discontented only when his service is less complete than his professional ideal. — Youth's Companion.

153 Pushed Overboard From Torpedo Boat

1909

Jam at Opening of St. Louis Carnival

ST. LOUIS, Mo., Oct. 8. — Fifteen thousand enthusiastic and curious persons tried to board four tiny torpedo boats at the same time. The boats wouldn't hold them, and part of the overflow, numbering 153, were pushed into the Mississippi, to be drawn ashore by police, sailors and others. Many were trampled under foot when two squads of police reserves charged the crowds to drive them back from the boats.

The torpedo flotilla, whose officers and crews are the first of the official guests at St. Louis' one hundredth birthday party, anchored at the levee, and the public was allowed to inspect the vessels. A small squad of police was stationed at the wharf-boat to which the boats were anchored to keep the visitors all in line.

In an hour the squad had been increased to sixty and the policemen were being hustled about roughly. There was not a square foot on the torpedo boats above or below that was not crowded and twice as many persons on the wharf-boat were trying to shove their way aboard.

Scores of women fainted. These were carried into the wharf-boat at the landing. The police, as a last resort, began to thump heads with their clubs, and the executive officer of the fleet ordered the boats closed to the public. The greater part of the crowd, which was good natured though rough, then dispersed. No sooner had they gone than another multitude arrived and the pushing, stampeding and cracking of heads were repeated.

Centennial week began in earnest here at 6 o'clock in the morning by the blowing of whistles and ringing of church bells. Sermons in the churches were devoted to centennial themes. In the afternoon, 15,000 children assembled in the Coliseum and sang patriotic and religious songs.

The aero grounds drew many thousands who viewed the airships and balloons which were made ready for the races. Ormon, with a Farman aeroplane, has arrived. Ten balloons will ascend and prizes have been offered for time and distance and the entrants hope to win the Lahm cup by exceeding 475 miles.

Farmer Charges Cat Sucked Breath From Children

1908

Gladstone, Michigan — Two children of Clarence Stearns, a farmer living near this village, are dying and three others are seriously ill, due to a cat having "sucked their breath" when they lay asleep in bed.

The father, in the dim light, saw the family cat sitting on the child's breast, its nose close to the babe's lips. The cat's claws scratched the child's breast as the father drew it away.

Going to the bed of the other children he found, he says, that the cat had sucked the breath of all and that two were so ill it was necessary for him to hitch up his horses and drive to the village for a doctor.


Goat and Man in Duel

Kansas City, Missouri — Bruised and battered on all four sides and with all of his corners knocked off, Frank Schleich lies on a cot in the emergency hospital as the result of a battle in the dark between him and a goat. The goat invaded Schleich's room in the barn and, as the man was unarmed, the goat might have killed him had it not been for the arrival of another barn man, who subdued the horned and whiskered beast by throwing a horse blanket over its head.


Baby Born with Brand

Peoria, Illinois — A letter "H" as distinct as though branded with an iron shows on the forehead of the two-months-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Hartman of Alton.

Neighbors gather daily at the Hartman home to view the unusual birthmark, which is exactly in the middle of the forehead and which has become more plainly visible within the last few weeks.

Physicians say the birthmark will disappear within two or three years.

Fountain Pen Saves Life

1909

Deflects Bullet Fired by Woman in Waldorf- Astoria Hotel

New York. — If you expect to be shot, carry a fountain pen in your vest pocket. It may save your life.

William D. Craig, a lawyer, was thus protected when Mrs. Mary A. Castle, a decidedly good-looking woman, tried to kill him in the crowded Waldorf-Astoria hotel and instead of a mortal wound he bears only a scratch, because the fountain pen deflected the bullet.

Craig, who is a member of the Rocky Mountain club, which has a suite of rooms in the hotel, was on his way to the club rooms to dress for dinner. Mrs. Castle, who had been waiting for him, tried to detain him, but Craig shook off the woman and went to the elevator. Mrs. Castle kept pace with him and as he was about to step into the elevator, she shot at him when the muzzle of the revolver was within an inch of his coat.

"He is the cause of my trouble. He has thrown me over," was her explanation.


Storm Panic At Circus

Roar of Lions Terrifies Crowd at Battle Creek

Battle Creek, Michigan — During a windstorm which uprooted trees, blew down fences and telephone poles here, the menagerie tent of Barnum & Bailey's circus was blown down and two women seriously injured. A large crowd was thrown into a panic. None of the animals escaped, but the roars of the lions created a panic.

Miss Adelaide Hathaway of Schoolcraft, Mich., sustained internal injuries and a fractured hip. Miss Bernice Platt of this city was severely injured. At Athletic park, where the local and Jackson teams of the Southern Michigan league were playing, Catcher Stringer of the local team was struck by lightning on the field and thrown to the ground unconscious.

Boy Carries Dog 20 Miles

1910

Washington Lad in Long Tramp Would Not Abandon His Pet Pup — Paws Were Sore

Tacoma, Washington. — Without railroad fare from North Yakima and forced to walk the entire distance of nearly 200 miles because of a desire to seek employment upon some lumber schooner plying out of Tacoma, Walter Anderson, aged nineteen, carried his bull terrier dog the last twenty miles of his journey after the animal had worn its feet until they were bleeding on the rough, graveled roadbed of the Northern Pacific.

Anderson appeared at the police station the other morning and asked to be directed to some shipping company. He was carrying the dog and had torn up his handkerchief to bandage its bleeding paws. Anderson said he had been eight days on the road sleeping out of doors. He had a little money, but was saving it to buy food. His first step on entering Tacoma was to buy meat for the dog at a butcher shop.

"You see, the little fellow isn't used to the road and it was rather tough on him, so I carried him," said Anderson. "You know he is only a dog and doesn't understand why we should be on this long hike, but he stuck to me nobly."

Hungry Lad Is Shot While Seeking Food

Feb. 1920

Restaurant Owner's Bullets Halts Attempted Burglary

TOPEKA, Kansas — Hungry, cold and unable to sleep, John Ross, 10-year-old lad, who recently escaped from the Topeka Boys' Industrial school, got a bullet wound when at 2 o'clock a.m. he attempted to steal something to eat from a local restaurant.

The proprietor, hearing the noise, shot, and the boy made his escape. Making his way to the Rock Island roundhouse, before telling that he was shot, he asked the men to help him get something to eat.

Young Ross, who says his real name is John Guinness, beat his way to Topeka some time ago from Philadelphia. He says his home is in West Virginia, and that he ran away because he could not get along with his stepfather.

Physicians called to the lad's aid were unable to determine the seriousness of his wound.


Boy Swallows 50-Cent Coin

Nature Removes It After Hospital Surgeons Had Their Try

KANSAS CITY, Missouri — Old Mother Nature proved herself to be the best physician after all in the removing of the 50-cent piece swallowed by Francis Quinn, 14 years old.

The coin at first lodged itself behind the larnyx. An X-ray photograph was taken to determine how best to operate for its removal, but upon the development of the plate no trace of the coin was seen and physicians decided it had slipped down into the digestive tract.

The boy left the hospital with the silver half dollar tucked away in his deepest pocket.

Doctors Locate Bullet By Phone

1915

London Surgeons Have New Method of Discovering Presence of Foreign Body

London. — One of the romantic touches in modern surgery which the exigencies of the present war have introduced is a method of detecting bullets and fragments of shell in the human body by means of a telephone. This method is employed in special cases in one of the large London hospitals.

To a telephone receiver two short lengths of wire are attached. One of these ends in a small piece of platinum; this is placed upon any part of the patient's skin which has been moistened with salt water. The other end of the wire terminates in a thread of antiseptic silver, and this is bound around the surgeon's probe or lancet or other instrument. The surgeon then places the receiver to his ear and makes the incision.

The instant the instrument touches the bullet a very distinct rattle is heard, quite different from the faint murmur audible as the instrument merely cuts through the flesh, and in this way when X-rays fail, as they sometimes do, the foreign substance is located.


He Is a War Hero At 13

Youngest Noncommissioned Officer in the French Army

Paris. — The youngest noncommissioned officer in the French army is Marcel Vernier, who is thirteen years and seven mouths old. He followed the artillery as a kitchen helper at the opening of the war and learned to ride a horse and was quickly promoted to be a corporal. He has been named adjutant sergeant major and his name has been proposed for the military medal for valor in action. He was recently wounded and was brought to a Paris hospital.

Vernier is an orphan and is one of a large family of young brothers and sisters.

Man Profits by Limp Wrist, Claiming Injuries

1915

Hand Would Fall Limp After Fall in Rail Car, Insurance Claim Following

Minneapolis. — How an obedient wrist bone served as a means of livelihood was told in court by Lester Edward Mills, who confessed that it had netted him $2,000 in the last year. It finally caused his downfall, however, and he will serve an indeterminate sentence in the Stillwater penitentiary as the result of sentence by Judge W. C. Leary, before whom he pleaded "guilty" to a charge of attempted grand larceny on complaint of Ralph Wellington, claim agent of the Duluth Street Railway company.

All that Mills has done to separate $2,000 from railroads, street railway companies and merchants within the last year has been to fall prostrate over a suitcase in the aisle or any obstacle on the sidewalk, gasp for breath and allow his left hand to hang limp from the wrist. Six rides has he taken in ambulances, six fair nurses have smiled at him as the color slowly returned to his face. Five claim agents have drawn checks against their companies and as many times has Mills pocketed the same.

Among the recent settlements made with Mills, according to his story in court, are:

Kennedy Brothers, $400; Northern Pacific, $1,200; Great Northern, $125; Great Northern, $250; St. Paul Street Railway company, $250.

"I have been in just one wreck," Mills told Judge Leary. "That was March 13, 1905, at Fond du Lac, Wis. I was brakeman on the old Wisconsin Central. My left wrist was broken. About a year ago I thought I could use that injury to collect damages from others. At Duluth I got a fellow with a suitcase to get on the street car, and when the car was rounding a curve I fell over the suitcase. I complained that my wrist was hurt. They took me to a hospital. Later I came to Minneapolis and met the claim agent at the West hotel. It was only a few days afterward that I was arrested."

"This may be your first arrest," said Judge Leary, "but it is not to your credit, for all these other claims have been faked the same way, have they not?"

The prisoner glanced to the back of the courtroom, where was seated his young wife. When he raised his eyes to the judge he admitted that he had done nothing but work up fake claims for the last year or more.

Although Mills was arrested at No. 1604 Stevens avenue, his wife gave her address as No. 86 Thirteenth street South. She said she had no idea that her husband had been collecting money in the way he admitted. She thought he was working for a railroad company, she said.

Under the sentence Mills may be confined to state prison not to exceed two and one-half years.

Hubby's Knees Too Sharp

Pennsylvania, 1914

Woman Tells Court That as a Sleeper He Is a Bunch of Corners and a Menace

Pittsburgh, Pa. Feb. 7. — Culbert A. Killingsworth, apparently as well rounded a husband as ever crowded into a suit of pajamas, sat in a court room here and heard himself referred to as the equivalent of a bedful of stilettos. His wife, Evelyn, after suffering for years the stings and arrows of outrageous elbows, asked a divorce on the grounds that as a sleeper her husband is a menace.

"His knees were like sabers, your honor," said Mrs. Killingsworth, "and I can show that I am covered with bruises that are almost as bad as knife wounds. My husband is a sharp, keen business man in many ways, but as a sleeper he is nothing but a succession of corners. I would rather sleep with a buzz saw."

Judge Moore remarked that there was no necessity of exhibiting the bruises. Mrs. Killingsworth said that she might make other charges, but she felt faint.

Has Cow with Wooden Leg

1914

New York, Jan. 2. — James M. I. Galloway, veterinary surgeon of Kirkintilloch, Scotland, arrived yesterday from Glasgow with photographs of a cow with a wooden leg, which the veterinary says is almost as good to the cow as an ordinary leg of beef and much more effective in knocking out folks who try to milk her on the wrong side.

Other veterinaries laughed at Galloway, who is young and of an experimental temperament, when he decided to save the life of a cow after the leg had been cut off by a locomotive.

The only time the wooden leg gets the cow into trouble is when she stands too long in a damp field and the leg sinks in a foot or so. Mr. Galloway is going to visit his brother, a veterinarian of Washington.

Modern Bullets More Humane Than Those of Past

1915

Wounds Quicker to Heal — Soldiers Not Long Absent from the Front

The bullet covered with hard nickel now in use make the surgeon's task very simple, as a rule. Formerly, when large bullets of soft lead were used, the soldier's lot was not a very happy one. These often broke up inside the body, shattered bones, and frequently remained embedded in the muscles, bones and other parts.

The result was slow-healing, festering wounds which kept the soldier ill for a long time. The modern long slender bullet generally passes through the body without doing any vital injury. Even when it goes through the intestine, the stomach, the kidney, etc., the wound closes up without any very serious after-consequences. A good deal, however, depends on circumstances. If the soldier's stomach is empty — as it generally is in a battle — so much the better for him when he gets a bullet through it.

When he is tired and half starving, however, the shock is very great, and he may become utterly helpless from a slight wound. A curious fact, difficult to explain, is that a bullet fired at a range of 300 to 600 yards has more penetrating power than one fired at a range under or over that distance. In the former case it passes through the bone without doing very much damage; in the latter it shatters the bone and makes recovery slow. A ricocheting bullet causes a very bad wound as a rule. Small as it is, if a bullet strikes a large bone, like the hip, it gives a blow like that of a crowbar.

We are hearing a great deal about dum-dum bullets in this, as in all wars, both parties making charges against one another. The probability is that neither side is using them. The bullet now in use consists of a core of lead covered with a hard nickel case.

House Cat is Nearly Baked

1914

The Family Pet Slept in Oven of Cook Stove and Is Nearly Burned to Death

Waynesboro, Pa. — M. B. Ayers, Hamilton avenue, Waynesboro, almost cooked a new dish at his home.

When he retired at night he left the oven door of the kitchen stove open. To get away from the cold the family cat crawled into the oven and there curled itself up for a sleep that lasted all through the night.

When Mr. Ayers went downstairs in the morning to stir up the fire he closed the oven door. The cat slept on and made no protest. Then Mr. Ayers turned on the drafts and thrust the poker into the bed of coals, and in a short time he had a good fire going.

He heard the mewing of a cat, but he couldn't see a cat, and he fancied the animal might be on the outside. But the cat grew more persistent in its mewing and added a tone of anguish to it, and then Mr. Ayers bethought him of the oven. He opened the door and the cat sprang on to him, almost knocking him off his feet.

The animal was burned terribly. Its feet were badly charred and its body was almost baked. It is still living and is on the road to recovery.

Florence Nightingale Dies — "Angel of the Battlefield"

1910

Heroine of Crimea

"Angel of the Battlefield" Revered by All Soldiers

Florence Nightingale's Life Was One Long Sacrifice for the Cause of Suffering Humanity — The First Army Nurse

London. — A woman whose name for over half a century has been a household word throughout the civilized world and who was universally loved and revered as few women have been, was claimed by death when Florence Nightingale passed away in her London home. She had been an invalid for a number of years. During recent years, owing to her feebleness and advanced age, Miss Nightingale had received but few visitors. On May 13 last she celebrated her ninetieth birthday and was the recipient of a congratulatory message from King George.

"The Angel of the Crimea," "The Soldiers' Friend," are titles which were conferred upon Florence Nightingale for her memorable service in behalf of the wounded and dying in the Crimean war. The last honor to be conferred upon her by a grateful country was in 1908, when the freedom of the city of London was bestowed upon her. Before that, in 1907, she received from King Edward the English Order of Merit, the most exclusive distinction within the gift of the British sovereign. She was the only woman who has ever received that honor.

Miss Nightingale was born in Florence, Italy, May 12, 1820, and it was in honor of the "city of flowers" that she was named. She was the daughter of a wealthy English landowner and returned with her parents to England when a child. She early displayed an inclination toward philanthropy, and was the first woman to follow a modern army into battle as a nurse. Although her father was a very wealthy man, she insisted on learning all that there was to be learned about the profession of nursing and became famous as a "probationer" in London hospitals. Later on she went to France and subsequently to Germany. A few years later she was in Africa nursing Arabs with such effect, says one of her biographers, "that the Moslems were almost convinced that the woman had a soul."

When the war of the Crimea broke out the British army sent to the front to help the French in the struggle with the Russians was not accompanied by the usual corps of women nurses. The struggle had been going on only a few months, however, when "Bull Run" Russell began sending to his English newspaper heartrending accounts of the frightful conditions that prevailed in the British hospitals and the horrible state of the wounded men. Instantly all England was in an uproar, and for a time the British ministry seemed tottering. Then, almost at the same moment, for their letters crossed each other, Florence Nightingale volunteered to take a corps of nurses to the front and Herbert Sydney, the secretary of war, suggested to her such a commission.

October 15, 1854, Miss Nightingale set forth on her errand of mercy at the head of a corps of 34 women nurses and equipped with most of the material for setting up a first-class field hospital.

Establishing herself on the heights of Scutari, near Constantinople, Miss Nightingale and her aids began the organization of a field hospital. At one time she had four miles of wounded — four miles of cots, side by side — with only 34 women to nurse her patients. Soon after this letters began coming in hundreds into the homes of England Which established permanently in the hearts of the people the supremacy of Florence Nightingale among all English women. She was the "angel of the battlefield," "the angel of the Crimea."

In August, 1856, Miss Nightingale returned to England. A grateful country would have welcomed her royally, but she had no desire for public praise. She arrived in England when least expected and went to her home. The queen, however, was not to be denied. She sent for Miss Nightingale to visit her at Balmoral and decorated her with her own hand. The sultan of Turkey made her a valuable present. The English government, on behalf of the people, was very practical in its expression of appreciation and presented her with $250,000.

Perhaps the greatest good that has resulted from her noble life has been the setting in motion of a force which has led thousands of women to devote themselves to the systematic care of the sick and wounded.

Florence Nightingale — Born May 12, 1820, Died Aug. 13, 1910.

Flying Machine Balks, Comes Down

1906

Montgomery Aeroplane Comes Near Killing Aeronaut Wilkie

Oakland, Cal., Feb. 23. — An unsuccessful trial was made by Professor Montgomery's aeroplane at Idora park yesterday and it almost resulted in serious injury to David Wilkie, the aeronaut.

At the height of eighteen feet Professor Montgomery signaled to descend, but the aeroplane did not respond. Suddenly, however, it was seen to drop from its support and a shout went up from the spectators. For a single moment the aeroplane remained on even keel then it swerved sharply and began to fall in short circles. Clinging desperately to the framework of the airship Wilkie could be seen making frantic efforts to regain control of the machine and twice it seemed that he had succeeded. Like a wounded bird the aeroplane swept downward, twice righting itself, only to again plunge toward the earth.

The last time the machine floated on even keel it was within a short distance of the ground and to this fact Wilkie owes his life, for when the machine started again toward the ground it had but a few feet to fall. It struck with force enough to wreck the machine, but the aeronaut escaped with a bad gash on the nose and a number of painful bruises.

Faithful Dog Avenges a Policeman

1910

NEW YORK. — Patrolman Lawrence Cummins of the East One Hundred and Fourth street police station, on whose post the car barn gang has its headquarters, was beaten savagely by members of that band and was in the hospital for several weeks.

The first request Cummins made to Capt. Corcoran when he reported again for duty was to be assigned to his old post. He said he wanted to show the toughs that he was not afraid of them and that they could not drive a policeman from his place of duty. Capt. Corcoran took the same view and sent Cummins back.

From the moment he resumed his work the gang annoyed Cummins, hut it was not until the other night that the roughs got a chance to "do him up" again. He found about a dozen of them on the street insulting women who passed.

"Move on," commanded Cummins. But a truck driver, 19 years old, hurled insults at the policeman. Cummins arrested him. The rest of the gang disappeared, Cummins started for the police station with his prisoner, but as they went along there was a call from a roof. The prisoner broke from Cummins and ran into a house. The gang had gone to a roof, torn away the chimney and waited for the policeman and his prisoner. When the signal was given and the prisoner had fled from the firing zone his friends hurled the chimney bricks down at Cummins. After three had struck him on the head he fell unconscious. Men who saw the attack ran to the station. Sgt. Higgins and eight bluecoats raced to the rescue of their comrade.

Twice a week a Dalmatian dog, Bessie, who belongs to truck company No. 26 on One Hundred and Fourteenth street, visits the East One Hundred and Fourth street station, and has a supper at the expense of John Ritter. That night she was there and she went with the rescue squad.

When the men entered the house from which the bricks had been hurled on Cummins the dog went with them. But while the sergeant and his men went to the roof Bessie stopped at the second floor.

Back in a dark corner of the tenement hallway she had caught sight of a man, and, instead of going further, she leaped for him. She got a good grip on his trousers and he could not beat her off. Five minutes afterward the policemen on their way back to the street after a fruitless search, heard a scuffle. They found Bessie still holding on to the man. He was the escaped prisoner.