Mustn't "Own" Their Engines

1901

The railroad engineer who "owns" his engine is not in favor with his superiors. Complaints about trivial matters are likely to be made against him and soon he finds himself without a berth. The phrase "owning an engine" does not mean that the engineer has acquired title to his iron horse. The expression is used of a man who has been with a certain engine so long that he becomes a part of it. He knows its every peculiarity, he feels its every protest against a heavy load, and he nurses it and coddles it as if it were his child. He dislikes to run the engine at top speed for fear something will happen to it, and in consequence his train is frequently behind time. He takes a grade at half the rate he should, and he runs cautiously down hill. In a word, he "owns" his engine.

Of course this is all very nice and idyllic, and it is the kind of thing a person likes to read about in stories of the railroad. But plain, practical rail road men look at it differently. They argue that the best engineer is the man who never fails to run his train according to his running time, the man who is never behind and seldom ahead. So it comes about that the engineer who makes a master of that which should be his servant wonders who has a grudge against him. But it isn't a grudge; it's business. — New York Mail and Express.

Comment: I've been thinking about this article for a couple of days. It's a real mindworm! Think of any equipment that you operate, and how you may "coddle" it so it will keep going. My first thought would be that's exactly what you want. But according to this article, just let it rip! And don't worry whether it will stand the test of time.

A Cheerful Soul

1902

"Hanks always looks on the bright side of everything. Do you know what he said when he lost his job the other day?"
"I haven't heard."
"He seemed to be quite cheerful over it. 'You see,' he explained, 'I applied for a raise of salary nearly six months ago and didn't get it. Think of how much more I would have had to lose if they'd given me the increase." — Chicago Record-Herald.


He Dropped the Subject

He was talking to the pessimistic, sharp-tongued damsel.
"Have you noticed," he asked, "that, as a general thing, bachelors are wealthier than married men?"
"I have," she replied.
"How do you account for it?" he inquired.
"The poor man marries and the rich one doesn't," she answered. "A man is much more disposed to divide nothing with a woman than he is to divide something." — Chicago Post.

Middle Course Best

1901

"It is hard to say which is the best thing for us," remarked the bill collector. "If nobody paid his bills, we should get no commissions, and if everybody paid them we should be thrown out of a job. Our profession offers no exception to the general rule that a middle course is the safest." — Boston Transcript.

Mr. Yet Y

1902

"We often see peculiar names," said Deputy Register J. P. Pemberton recently, "but the most peculiar one that has ever come to my attention in the years that I have spent in the Register's office was the name of a gentleman transferring a piece of property a few days ago. His name was Yet Y. There is no joke about the matter, for the official records show this is his actual name, and no one would take the chances of tampering with the official records.

"The name struck me as being so peculiar that I asked him how he came to get such a name. Mr. Y said: 'I do not know just exactly how I came to have the very peculiar name, though I have investigated the matter. I find that my family originally came from the southern part of England, and the name was first spelled "Whey," doubtless from the fact that some of my early ancestors worked on the wheys. Later I find the name came to be "Why." However, the name of my grandfather was simply Y, and my father's name was Sacques Y. I suppose that I was given the name I now bear to let the people know that the family name was 'yet Y.' " — Chattanooga Times.

Seeking to Help Wounded Veterans Regain Lives

1915

No one has yet computed the sums which have been contributed by this country to the relief of war victims in Europe. The list of the official relief societies grows daily and the contributions run into seven figures, while placards announcing teas, dances, bazaars, fashion reviews and theatrical performances meet us on every hand. And still the insistent appeal goes on, in changing form to catch the attention of the generous. The greatest artists turn orators to beg for their pitiful, starving compatriots, and every ship brings an emissary with another earnest plea which cannot be resisted.

The latest of these emissaries is Mme. Charles Le Verrier, wife of the head of the College Chaptal, the great Lycee, or boy's school, of Paris, which is now, like all the others, a military hospital. She comes to the United States as the accredited representative of the Federation des Jouets, which has been formed for the benefit of the mutilated soldiers of the republic.

"Something had to be done to bring together individual effort and save the waste of funds and energy which comes from the lack of cooperation," Mme. Le Verrier says. "Wonders have been accomplished, but there is still so much to be done that we cannot afford to lose the smallest amount of time, strength or money. We found that we must organize, affiliate with the relief work of the provinces, and all pull together toward a definite end. The Federation des Jouets is one of the results of this attempt at organization.

"One of our greatest problems is the maintenance of disabled men after the war is over and during its course. We cannot consign them wholesale to institutions. There are too many, in the first place; France would become one vast institution if she attempted to care for all the wounded, the widows and orphans, and the destitute in that way. Besides, family life, the very foundation of the nation's life, would be in large measure destroyed. How to leave the wounded soldier in his home, how to provide him with a means of livelihood so that he may remain there with his family, is our great problem. Obviously he must first be taught to make something, and then a steady market must be secured for his work.

"We naturally thought of toys. Years ago the dolls of France had a great reputation, but we allowed Germany to learn from us how to make them, and then apply her genius for organization to take our market away from us. But we are going to win it back. The education of the men has already progressed wonderfully. While they are still helpless on their backs in the hospitals they are given wood and tools and models, and they dab at the bit of wood, happy in their hopes for the future. I have brought some of these tentative efforts with me, not that their crudity is interesting or attractive, but to compare with their later work as examples Of the rapidity of their progress. They learn very quickly indeed, and their delight in their own achievements is touching.

"More difficult than the teaching of the men is the finding of a market for their work. Europe doesn't want toys."

The Confidence of Youth

1920

There are some moments in our lives when obsessed by discouragements and failures we have made, we think with bitterness of the time when we looked forward with eager eyes, and glowing hearts to the opportunities to demonstrate our ability to carve out a great success for ourselves. We recall almost with contempt the joy we felt when we first arrived at the dignity of finding a position and the satisfaction of knowing that we at least stood upon our own feet and were not dependent upon others.

We did not become discouraged because perhaps we were forced to begin at the foot of the ladder, and even when we found the climbing hard work and the setbacks we received surpassed our successes we did not murmur, but pushed upward as far as we could. We thrilled to the young blood that flowed through our veins and warmed us into action; we could not realize our experience and because this was so we dared heights which later on proved beyond our reach, and when we achieved a failure instead of a success we did not grow discouraged.

There is a certain buoyancy of spirit and elasticity of hope in our early years that carry us forward over the roughest of roads to approximately our goal, and it is these qualities, says the Charleston (S.C.) News and Courier, that make life-in-the-making so happy a season for the majority of persons. It is only when failures pile up, and discouragements grow, and one ambition after another are denied fulfillment that we begin to lose that faith that has kept us alive, not alone faith in the ultimate achievement of our hopes, but also faith in ourselves without which we cannot expect to do very much.

—Saturday Blade, Chicago, Feb. 28, 1920, p. 6.

Thrifty Females Making Work For Themselves

1901

There Are Many Remunerative Occupations For Women

One thrifty woman who had watched the vegetables and fruit rotting by day at her grocer's, and which were a dead loss to him, proposed that they enter into an arrangement in the future whereby she should preserve and pickle his entire surplus, either for regular pay or upon commission, in the latter case he furnishing the sugar and spices. Another woman, with sharp business instincts, a butcher's wife, made up soup stock, and found a ready sale for it to many overworked housekeepers.

Still another, who knew but one thing thoroughly, and that was cookery, called every morning at certain physicians offices and formed a list of families in which sickness prevailed. To these families she offered to come every day for an hour or so and prepare in their own homes mutton broth, beef extract, chicken jelly, panada, gruels, fruit and herb drinks, wine whey, custard, etc., furnishing her time and labor cheaper than the articles could be bought at restaurants or women's exchanges.

Some women are specialists in one branch, such as handkerchief embroidering, lampshade making, fan painting, feather curling, glove cleaning, and the like, or can make beautiful neck scarves, or launder fine laces. Such can easily make their specialty pay, some by the aid of friends, some by the patronage of dealers in such goods, some by a house to house canvass made by themselves.

A young girl in one of the large eastern cities was recently puzzled by finding herself left almost helpless and homeless, with no talent in any one direction. There was but one thing of which she never tired, and that was of children, all of whom seemed to adore her; so this young girl went out at so much an hour to amuse sick and irritable children. Many a worn-out mother found her presence a most grateful repose. She was indefatigable in inventing new games and perfecting old ones, and her naturally retentive memory came also to her aid as a story-teller.

It is the woman who takes advantage of opportunities, the woman who can plan as well as execute, whom the world wants and for whom it will push its ranks apart to make place.

Woman Lived 60 Years As A Man

1908

Double Life — Married One of Her Own Sex

Trinidad, Colorado — Katherine Vosbaugh, an eccentric Frenchwoman of brilliant attainments, died here the other day at the age of 83, after masquerading for 60 years as a man. The woman donned trousers when a girl and had a horror of skirts up to the time of her death. She filled a score of responsible positions, and her true sex was never suspected.

Just twice during her entire life was the fact that Katherine Vosbaugh was a woman made known. The first time was when, at 30 years of age, she revealed it to the young woman she married in St. Joseph, Mo. The next and last time when she was convinced she was dying, and was compelled to inform the hospital physician.

During her long life she had been a bank clerk, a sheep herder, a bookkeeper, a restaurant-keeper and a mining camp cook. Although she spoke several languages and had been brought up in refinement, she seemed never so happy as when she was clad in rough overalls and heavy shoes, doing the most laborious work.

She wandered all over the world, and although often compelled to associate with the roughest men, she was never suspected of being a woman, and on more than one occasion proved herself more of a manly man than her associates. She came to America in 1842 at the age of 18, shortly after her father's death. She decided that she could make her way as a man, but not as a woman. She donned trousers and settled in Joplin, Mo., as a bookkeeper.

For nine years she remained in Joplin and was esteemed a fine young man and one whom more than one young woman considered a most eligible partner. Her excellent record, education and steadiness procured her a position as clerk at a St. Joseph bank. It was shortly after she accepted this position that she learned of the trouble of the young woman whom she afterward married.

When Miss Vosbaugh's "wife's" baby was born the oddly attached people removed to Trinidad and opened up a French restaurant. The town people thought them a model couple. The baby died a few months later. Shortly after the mother disappeared, and the "husband" refused to make a search for her. The people of Trinidad were profuse in their expressions of sympathy for the deserted "man."

Forty years ago Miss Vosbaugh obtained employment at the Sam Brown ranch, near Trinchera, as a sheep herder. Later when she saw that her sex could not be discovered except through unusual accident, she accepted work as a camp cook, and remained in that capacity up to two years ago. Some of the roughest characters known to the west associated with her without ever suspecting her sex. In many stirring scenes when men revealed fear and nervousness she kept her poise.

Two years ago her infirmities compelled her removal to San Raphael hospital. Even then the men of the camp bade her good-bye affectionately as "Grandpa" and "Old Man Frenchy." For many weeks she refused to bathe unless she could do so without attendants being present, to the great amusement of the sisters, who joked about the old man's overmodesty. Shortly after she was seized with a severe cold, which led to the physician's examination laying bare her life secret.

When her sex was revealed the hospital authorities at first insisted that she wear the proper garb of her sex. The garments proved so irksome to her, however, that she was finally permitted to return to overalls. She pottered around the hospital working for the sisters up to the time of her death.

The Rag Man Finds His Occupation Gone

1910

Rag Man's Business Has Dwindled to Vanishing Point

"Rags, bones, old iron!" is a cry not nearly so familiar to the children of to-day as to those of the '80's. For the ragman, like the chimney sweep and the sun dial maker, is becoming extinct. His used to be a profitable trade. The woolen rags he bought, turned into shoddy, brought thrice their cost. So did the bones, which were ground up for fertilizer. So did the iron, which, melted, lived again. Many millionaire manufacturing families had their beginning in a long-headed ragman. He first ground his rags into shoddy. Then he spun the shoddy into thread. Then, a full-fledged millman, he wove the thread into cloth. But the municipalities of to-day contract with single firms for the disposal of their people's refuse, and the old ragman is disappearing because there is so little for him. For — and this is the great secret — while the ragman made a grand profit on what he bought, it was on the refuse given him that he really throve.


From "Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again"
By Bob Dylan

Oh, the ragman draws circles
Up and down the block.
I'd ask him what the matter was,
But I know that he don't talk.


A Poultry Point

"Always ask for the right leg of a chicken or turkey," said a chef. "If the left leg is offered you refuse it. It will be tough and stringy.

"You see, these birds nearly always roost on one leg, the left. Hence that leg becomes very muscular. The sinews are like steel. It is an excellent leg from the athletic, but a vile one from the culinary point of view.

"But the favored right leg remains tender and juicy. Therefore, as the advertisements say, 'Ask for and insist on getting the right leg.' "

Census Forms from British Guiana — "Me name is James Homer"

1899

Lucid

The opportunities which the census affords to eccentric people in the way of furnishing strange answers to plain questions are seldom neglected. In foreign countries, where the standard of education is lower than in the United States, the variety of answers affords astonishing problems to the officials whose duty it is to catalogue them. An Englishman, high in the civil service in British Guiana, gives some ludicrous specimens of native talent, selected from recent census returns.

One citizen gives his name as "John." He is the "head of the family," and by birth "a male." Then in the column of "Profession, Rank or Occupation," he puts down:

"Can't get nothin' to do for the last six months, and can't pay house rent. Has got four children. They in Barbados now, but is coming to Demarara."

Farther down the list, this same column of "Profession, Rank or Occupation" is filled with interesting information. One person's occupation is put down as "sickly." One is "an idler" and another, more ambitious, enrolls himself as "a scoller."

In the column devoted to infirmities, one man protests that he has no "infurrities." The next writes "dito" below this statement, and the next declares he is "romantic" [presumably for "rheumatic"]. A fourth has "no orflections," while a fifth, less content, says he "has been black from birth."

Another gentleman writes, "My wife is a female. She is close washer. She is not inflicted, and is got two boy children and two is dead. They can't read or write yet."

One poor man, ignoring the division of the paper into columns, gives the following pathetic tale:

"Me name is James Homer, i is 32 years old and i works punts in the river. i is married but i keep one servant who died November last year. She name Rebecca Kemp, clothes washer, 48 years, and I too sorry for she." — Youth's Companion.

Sergeant Joe Reed Now Telephone "Girl" for Police

Lima, Ohio, 1922

SERGEANT JOE REED IS NOW TELEPHONE "GIRL" AT POLICE HEADQUARTERS

Joe Reed, day desk sergeant at police headquarters, spent the larger part of the day Monday, learning to operate the new telephone switchboard.

It is now complete and ready to be cut in for use.

The board controls the entire report system of tin police department, special danger and emergency signals and the entire phone system of the department and criminal court.

It is considerably more intricate than the ordinary phone switchboard, because of the additional and special stations with which it is hooked up.

Telephone company employes expect to "cut it in" for use beginning Tuesday morning.

"Guess I'll have to don a blue gingham apron, Reed opined as he tried switches and plugged stations.

—The Lima News, Lima, Ohio, Aug. 28, 1922, p. 2.

How Long to Sleep

1874

There has been a great deal of trash written and labeled "Hygienic;" but the following so entirely accords with our own experience, that we commend it to readers as sensible:

The fact is, that as life becomes concentrated, and its pursuits more eager, short sleep and early rising becomes impossible. We take more sleep than our ancestors, and we take more because we want more. Six hours' sleep will do very well for a plowman or brick-layer, or any other man who has no exhaustion but that produced by manual labor, and the sooner he takes it after his labor is over the better. But for a man whose labor is mental, the stress of work is on his brain and nervous system, and for him who is tired in the evening with a day of mental application, neither early to bed nor early to rise is wholesome. He needs letting down to the level of repose.

The longer the interval between the active use of the brain and his retirement to bed, the better his chance of sleep and refreshment. To him an hour after midnight is probably as good as two hours before it, and even then his sleep will not so completely and quickly restore him as it will his neighbor who is physically tired. He must not only go to bed later, but lie longer. His best sleep probably lies in the early morning hours, when all the nervous excitement has passed away, and he is in absolute rest.

Note: Please don't take this old article for true advice on your own sleeping. I had to read it a couple time because I can't believe my eyes. The author discounts the exhaustion of a man who plows or lays bricks as something less than one whose labor is more mental. And since the author was a writer, guess who is being talked about there. It would seem that he or she is feeling a bit superior to those others. It seems like the truth would be just the opposite, or neither. There's a lot of looking-down on people in these old articles, a lot of snobby upper class hoity-toityness.


Perseverance

A poor woman had a supply of coals laid at her door by a charitable neighbor. A very little girl came out with a fire-shovel, and began to take a shovelful at a time and carry it to a sort of bin in the cellar. I said: "Do you expect to get all that coal in with your little shovel?" She was quite confused with my question, but her answer was striking: "Yes, sir; if I work long enough." Humble worker, make up for your want of ability by abundant continuance in well-doing, and your lifework will not be trivial. The repetition of small efforts will effect more than the occasional use of great talents.

On Suicide and Hard Times

1878

Suicide and Hard Times

Plenty of suicides are still reported, says a New York correspondent. Many of the victims are persons who were of no account in the world, but now and then we hear of the suicide of a man or woman who promised well and who might have done well. Failure to find work is frequently the cause of the act on the male side, but not always. Domestic trouble usually leads to it among women.

A few days ago a Spaniard, a man of good family connections and fair personal accomplishments, committed suicide in his boarding house. He had made a living by singing in opera, but latterly this resource failed him, and as his prospects in life were growing dark he closed accounts with the world by leaving it. One of his fellow boarders testified before the coroner that the Spaniard had frequently expressed a horror of work and said it would be more honorable to die.

But most of those who take the last desperate leap do so because they cannot, or fancy they cannot, find means to live. New York swarms with men of fair capacity who cannot get employment of any sort. As a rule, such men fare worse than men of a coarser fibre, because they are disqualified for taking hold of the odd jobs that men of the rougher class occasionally pick up. It would be almost suicidal for a stranger to come to New York expecting to find a situation.

Two Illinois Girls Capture Wall Street, Polishing Boots

1903

GIRLS CAPTURE WALL STREET.

The Forest Sisters of Champaign, Ill., Polish the Brokers' Boots.

The very newest get-rich-quick concern that ever struck New York was launched in Wall street recently by two pretty young girls from Champaign, Ill. Marie and Belle Forest, two sisters, one 18 years old, the other two years her senior, invaded the field just before the bulls and bears had begun to shout their wares on 'change. These two enterprising maidens, both attractive brunettes, with the red rose bloom of country on their cheeks and smiling mischievously, were busy all day distributing tickets bearing the following legend throughout Wall, Beaver, News and Broad streets:

"This entitles the holder to one shine at the Eagle tonsorial parlor, No. 71 Wall street, on Monday, March 2."

At first the brokers and kings of finance turned to them the real icy countenance. "Don't want any women canvassers," was the answer the Illinois girls had in the offices.

By and by it was learned that the maidens were endeavoring to earn an honest living by shining shoes, and that, too, with dainty white hands. Then "the street fell." Before noon a thousand tickets had been paid for at 10 cents each, and the question now is, how are Belle and Marie going to keep the contract?

What they offer is to shine for one day the boots of every customer who enters the barber shop at No. 71 Wall street. While Marie is at one foot Belle proposes shining up the other.

"I'll just tell you how it was," said the latter, as she spread out fifteen tickets, fanshape, for speedy purchase by gallant brokers in the consolidated exchange. "Marie and I just came from Champaign and we had a notion to start a manicure parlor here. Everybody seems to get rich in this place. We thought it would be easy to earn an honest living.

"But in about three weeks we had not found a thing to do, and our funds were on the last ebb. We were living then in West Twenty-ninth street, right in the Tenderloin district, and the things we saw there just fairly sickened us."

"'Marie,' I said one day, when we did not know whether to have dinner or breakfast, for we were having but one meal per day, 'I'll do any mortal thing rather than live like these women around here. Ill black boots.'

"'Well, just that,' Marie said, 'let's black boots,' and now you know it all. We're going to be on hand next Monday bright and early, practice up in the meantime, and I'll bet we make a lot. Just see the way they're buying tickets."

—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, March 5, 1903, page 2.

Bee-Culture Hobby Is Bulwark Against Evil Fortune of Paralytic

1917

McGREGOR, Iowa.— (Special.)—John Clark of North McGregor, Iowa, is a paralytic and yet earns a living for his wife, little children and himself. Until a year ago when stricken by apoplexy he was a plasterer. He was skilled at the trade, had plenty of work and made good money. Meanwhile he had a hobby. It was bees. He can't remember when he wasn't interested in bees and wouldn't rather be fussing with them than doing anything else. After marriage his wife became interested, too.

They bought a small piece of land on the outskirts of town where lots of sweet clover and basswood grows. Reserving part of the land for the bee hives, Mr. Clark set most of the rest of it to fruit. Apple, pear, plum and cherry trees, raspberry, blackberry, currant and gooseberry bushes were planted. The fruit blossoms would provide nectar for the bees and the bees would pollenize the blossoms, he figured.

The fruit farm was nicely started, the bees were busy in half a hundred stands and the husband and wife had the plans drawn for a pretty bungalow at "Sunnyside Apiary," as they had named their little farm. Then Mr. Clark was stricken with apoplexy and the problem of obtaining money for food, clothing, doctor bills and fuel drove away the dream of the bungalow among the apple blossoms and the honey bees.

When the basswood blooms the first two weeks in July, if there is no wind and the weather is fair the bees in Sunnyside Apiary will store twenty-five pounds per colony in ten days. The honey they make is so good that the proprietor has no trouble at all in marketing it. In fact, buyers this year came to the house for almost all of the crop.

"Do you like the work?" the invalid was asked and his face lighted as he answered:

"It's the most interesting business anybody can have. You never get tired of bees. There is always something new turning up."

The wife answered:

"I love to work with them. Do you know, I have about decided beekeeping an ideal job for women. Success in it depends upon looking after the little things and I believe women naturally do that better than men."

It was then Mr. Clark gave thanks for his hobby. His wife said:

"If you will direct me from your bed, I'll do the work and we'll see if we can't make our bees earn a living for the family."

That was a year ago. November 15 this year they had sold 3,600 pounds of extracted honey and had 500 pounds of comb honey stored in the cellar.

Compete for His Honey

Others are keeping bees in the country nearby, but with nothing like as good results. Mr. Clark attributes his success to good management and to their location near an abundance of sweet clover and basswood. Everybody knows the finest honey is "basswood honey" and nobody knows it as well as the bees.

—The La Crosse Tribune and Leader-Press, La Crosse, Wisconsin, January 22, 1917, page 10.

A Poet's Union

A Baltimore bard is trying to organize a poet's union, but the scheme is likely to fail owing to the fact that all the applicants for membership wish to be walking delegates.
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Four goats, inoculated with a billion disease germs, have wandered astray in New York. However, this is not the first instance in which modern scientists have lost their goats.
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A woman in a New York town owes her safety to the fact that she wore a harem skirt and the trouser part gave her freedom to run for her life. So here is one good point registered for the persecuted apparel.
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A woman in Spokane has been graduated from a school of stenography at the age of seventy and expects to take up active work. When the spirit is so young there are no limits to activity which age can impose.

--The Ellis Review-Headlight, Ellis, Kansas, 1911