A Tussle with a Burglar

New York, 1895

Mrs. Dora Miller Proved Herself a Plucky Woman.

Early Sunday morning Mrs. Dora Miller, residing on Madison street, Queens, had an exciting time with a burglar, who had gained admittance to the house by cutting out a glass in one of the basement windows and removing the window fastening. Mrs. Miller was awakened by the noise the burglar made in trying to force open a door adjoining her bedroom. She got up, and, arming herself with a short club she kept near her bed, opened her room door. As she did so a man wearing a handkerchief tied over his face to conceal his features pushed his way into the room. She struck him over the head with the club and he grappled with her and threw her to the floor twice. Her son, a boy 12 years of age, went to her assistance. In the struggle the handkerchief was torn from the man's face and he proved to be a burly negro. The boy ran to a window and gave an alarm, which was responded to by Mr. Doty, a neighbor, and the negro, hearing foot-steps approaching, made good his escape. Mrs. Miller believes that it her son had not given the alarm the negro would have killed her.


A Mistake In the Food

Tuesday morning Herbert M. Reeve, of Northville, lost a horse valued at $250. The horse died from the effects of rough on rats. Reeve had sprinkled the poison on the beams of the barn; the horse reached up to eat some of the meal which was also scattered over the beams, and succeeded in obtaining enough poison to kill him.


Mrs. Talbot Gets a Divorce

Annie Talbot of Flushing, who sued for a divorce from her husband, William H. Talbot, has obtained judgment in her favor. She is to have alimony in the sum of $50 and the care of her three children. The decree was made by Justice Bartlett Saturday afternoon.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 22, 1895, p. 1.

The European Nose

1895

An Austrian scientist has been attacking the European nose. He says that it is a miserable, degraded organ and a disgrace to civilization. He admires the large, full nostrils of the negro and says that it is the sort of nose to have. That is the nose that can smell. The nose of Europe cannot smell. Its olfactory sense is gone. The London nose could never snuff the London atmosphere, nor, he might have added, the much more complicated odors of cologne. He attributes this degeneration to cigarette smoking and to life in crowds. — St. Louis Post-Dispatch.


Sydney Smith's Wit

"By Jove!" said a country squire who had got the worst of an argument with Sydney Smith, "if I had a son who was a donkey, I'd make a parson of him straight away."
"Possibly," returned the wit, "but your father was evidently of a different mind."

A Curious Cheat

1895

The unrolling of an Egyptian mummy, supposed to be that of a princess, disclosed a curious cheat. The priests who did the embalming probably spoiled or mislaid the body intrusted to them, and for it substituted that of an ordinary negro man. — Philadelphia Ledger.

Like Jesse James, All But The Horse

1920

Tippler Hurls a Parting Shot at the Booze Bandit.

One of those present at the funeral of John Barleycorn was a negro who entered a saloon in St. Louis, Mo., and called for a drink of whisky. He laid down a dollar bill. The bartender rang up 50 cents and handed back the change. After glancing at the change and then at the register, the negro called for "another drink of the same."

He drank it and pushed over the half dollar. The bartender rang up the 50 cents, smiled and stood at attention.

"Are you the boss?" inquired the negro.

"Sure."

"Have you got a horse?"

"No, why?"

"Well, Jesse James had a horse," said the negro, turning on his heel and departing.



Found It So

Molly — "Our doctor told me today that hammocks are not good for one."
Cholly — "He's right, dear; they're not good for one, but they're all right for two."

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 13.

Taken For a Negro

1901

Experience of a Filipino Boy In the South.

Estiban Glori, a Filipino boy who has been in Atlanta a short time, was the cause of an excited discussion at a local soda fount the other morning, says the New Orleans Times-Democrat. Glori was taken to the fount by W. M. Pendleton, in whose charge he had been placed.

The clerk stubbornly refused to sell the boy the drink, declaring that be was a negro and as such could not be served at that particular fountain. Glori's protector and others standing around indignantly protested that Glori was a Malay and not a negro. The clerk was obdurate and resolutely refused to let Glori drink at the fountain. The Filipino, while angry at the imputation that he was a negro, was exceedingly courteous and walked away quietly.

Much interest is being shown in the course which the board of education will take when the boy applies for admission to the public schools. Glori is the son of a Filipino general and was sent to the United States by an American army officer to be educated.

Call On Spirits to Help Convict Negro

1921

(Special to Post-Crescent)

Des Moines, Iowa. — A voice from the spirit world is being used to help forge the chain of evidence against Tom Lewis, negro, charged with assaulting and murdering 23-year-old Sara Barbara Thorsdale, Des Moines school teacher.

Miss Thorsdale's body was found in a clump of bushes alongside the lonely road she took in walking from her school to the street car. Lewis, who lived in a shack nearby, was traced by bloodhounds. He denies all knowledge of the crime.

The spirit voice is that of the slain girl, transmitted through Mrs. E. C. Head, a Des Moines medium, to Mrs. Gladys Conway, Miss Thorsdale's dearest chum.

The chum, skeptically but hopefully, applied to Mrs. Head after Lewis protested his innocence. She says she heard the voice of Miss Thorsdale clearly, that it told her a negro and two white men were responsible, and that it explained the crime in this way:

"I was walking casually along, and when I reached the thicket a hand was stretched out and caught me. Another hand went over my mouth. That was 4:40 in the afternoon, but my spirit did not leave my body until the next day. I was taken to a cabin and kept there. Early the following morning they took my body to the river to throw it into the water, but the men were afraid. There were two men. Another knew, but did not help."

Names of the two white men have been turned over to officials, who say they will be arrested.

Sheriff W. E. Robb plans to use both Mrs. Conway and Mrs. Head as witnesses.

—Appleton Post-Crescent, Appleton, WI, July 25, 1921, p. 6.

Old War Horses

1905

These old horses never forget the calls, no matter how long it has been since they last heard them.

One day some years ago, when I was passing an open lot in the outskirts of Chicago, I found a boy trying to play an old cornet, says a writer in Forest and Stream. While the boy and I were at work on the cornet, an old negro ash hauler came along driving an animal that had once been a good horse, but was now only a collection of skin and bones. The horse stopped when he heard us and stuck up his ears. I came to the conclusion that be had been a cavalry horse and asked the old negro where he had got him. "From a farmer," he said. I could not find a "U.S." on the horse; he had probably been discharged so long ago that his brand had been worn off. But taking the cornet I sounded the stable call, and the horse began to dance.

"Hold fast to your lines, now, uncle," I warned the old negro. "I am going to make that old horse do some of the fastest running he has ever done since he left the cavalry." Then, beginning with the call for the gallop, I next sounded the charge, and the old plug went plunging up the road at his fastest gait, dragging his wagon after him. I gave him the recall next, and he came down to a walk, much to the relief of the old negro. He said that this was the first time he had over seen the horse run. He had never been able to get him to go faster than a slow walk before. "You don't feed him well enough to get him to do much running," I told him. "That horse, when he did have to run, got his twelve pounds of corn and all the hay he could eat every day."

Joke Is Played on Peddler

1915

Victim Makes Queer Discovery Next Morning

A peddler arrived one evening at a small town and went to the only hotel there. Every room had already been engaged, but the hotel-keeper offered him a room which he could share with a negro. The peddler agreed, and asked to be awakened early the next morning.

Several jokers overheard the proceedings, and while the peddler slept blackened his face.

The next morning, being in a hurry to catch a train he made straight for the station when he was awakened. While passing the mirror in the waiting-room he stopped suddenly and exclaimed: "Hang it all! They've called the wrong guy!"


True to the Last

"Yes," said the traveler, "my wife's mother was the most admirable housekeeper that ever lived. Poor soul, she was eaten by cannibals in Africa."
"You don't mean it!"
"Alas! it's true. Why, when the savages had thrust her into the cauldron and she was beginning to cook, she cried out faintly with her last breath, 'Don't forget the salt and pepper.'"


Can't Look the Part Now

"John, dear," said his wife, "there was a poor man here today asking for old clothes and I gave him that shabby old overcoat of yours that was hanging in the attic. You didn't want it, did you?"
"Of course I wanted it!" exclaimed John wrathfully. "That's the one I always wear when I swear off my taxes."


About Five

[From the Pea Ridge (Ark.) Pod]

Mr. French who lived one mile south of town died Tuesday, of last week, and was buried at Siloam Springs, Wednesday. He leaves a wife and about five children to mourn his death.


Detects Smokeless Powder

United States naval officers have developed a colored glass which renders visible the fumes from smokeless powder.

A Salute Wasted — Was Old Negro Cook, Not the General

1900

The flag-ship Monongahela was anchored off the navy-yard at Pensacola Bay in 186—, and Admiral Farragut, who was then in command, was on board. He had been very busy the week before paying official calls on the mainland, and among those who had entertained him was General Canby. When, therefore, word was received that the general would visit the ship the next day, the admiral was determined to have everything ready to receive him in a style becoming his rank.

The old boat was scrubbed and holystoned from stem to stern, the bright work was given an extra rub, and things generally were put into the best of order. Captain Heywood, now brigadier-general commandant of the marine corps, had a special inspection of his company of marines, and not a spot of rust or a dull helmet spike escaped his notice. When night closed in, darkness settled down over a very clean ship and a very tired ship's company.

Bright and early the next morning the admiral's launch was sent off to bring the general aboard. At the last moment it was discovered that there was no fruit for luncheon, and Pompey, the admiral's cook, was sent in the dingy to get some.

Pompey was a character in his way, and had been with the admiral for many years. He was very proud of what he called his military bearing, and wore his beard carefully trimmed to a point. His hair and beard were nearly white, and although he was sixty years old, he ruled the other negroes with a rod of iron.

By ten o'clock every one was standing by in full dress, when the quartermaster came aft and reported that the admiral's launch was returning.

The officer of the deck walked to the rail and took a squint at the boat through his glasses. A man clad in a blue uniform was seated in the admiral's cane chair in the stern, but as the gunwale struck him just below the shoulder and the awning hid his head, the officer of the deck was not certain that it was General Canby until, as the wind lifted the edge of the awning, he caught a glimpse of a gray beard.

Word was passed that the general was coming off. The crew were beat to quarters, the marine guard paraded, and the gun squad, detailed to fire the salutes took their stations.

Everything was in readiness, and the admiral and his staff stood at the head of the gangway to receive the guest. A hush of expectancy settled over the ship.

The boat drew nearer. Just as the launch scraped alongside, boom! boom!! came the salute from the guns.

"Present arms!" came the command to the guard, and at a sign from the flag officer the band struck up "Hail to the Chief."

Amid all this military pomp and splendor the occupant of the launch was slowly clambering out, feet foremost, and just as the last gun was fired he stood erect at the top of the gangway.

Merciful heavens! It was Pompey, with a bag of fruit in each hand!

Confusion! The honors intended for a general had been rendered a negro cook! As the situation dawned on the men, even discipline could not check a general shout of laughter. The old admiral himself laughed until he could laugh no more.

It seemed that in some way the dingy had gone off and left the old negro, and that he had managed to convince the coxswain that "Marse Farragut was jes' bound to have dat fruit befo' the general came."

Pompey wanted to land at the port gangway, but the coxswain insisted that the admiral's launch never went to the port side, and that the old man would have to land on the starboard side, aft.

Had the awning been a little higher, the mistake in identification would not have occurred. As things were, no one could be blamed, and the affair was treated as a joke, while Pompey was nicknamed the "General."

When, an hour later, General Canby did come off, he was received with all due ceremony, and on being told the story, laughed till the tears rolled down his cheek; and demanded to see the man who had stolen his salute. — Youth's Companion.

A Foreign Tongue

1900

On the strength of a story printed in the Washington Star, it may be said that it is a wise person that knows his own vernacular after the dialect-writer is done with it.

"What on earth is de matter wid yoh talk?" asked Piccaninny Jim's mother.

"Dat talk what I was jes' now talkin'?"

"Yassir."

"Oh, dat aint sho-nuff talk! Ev'ybody's gotter speak in school, an' de teacher is learnin' me a negro dialeck piece."


Unsettled

"Can you tell me what sort of weather we may expect next month?" wrote a subscriber to an editor; and according to the Cumberland Presbyterian, the editor replied as follows:

"It is my belief that the weather next month will be very much like your subscription."

The inquirer wondered what the editor meant, till he happened to think of the word "unsettled." — Youth's Companion.

Doctor Sews Up Gash In Heart

Printed Jan. 1908

Negro Injured During Brawl, Subject of Remarkable Operation

New York. — A few days ago the remarkable feat of sewing up a cut in a man's heart was successfully performed by two surgeons, Drs. Blake and Dwight, at Roosevelt hospital. The patient, William Johnson, a negro about 35 years old, is still in the hospital, ill with pneumonia, but, so far as his heart is concerned, he is all right. It has healed completely.

Johnson was stabbed in the course of a saloon row with a long thin knife, which severed the fourth rib two inches to the left of the mid line, and entered the heart. He left the scene of the stabbing without telling anyone of it, and strolled about the streets for three quarters of an hour. The wound appeared to be a slight one, and, as it was not bleeding, externally at least, Johnson did not worry about it.

By and by, however, he began to feel drowsy, and sat down on the curb and put his head in his hands. Here an acquaintance found him, drew from him the fact that he had been stabbed, and telephoned for an ambulance, which carried him to Roosevelt hospital.

Dr. Dwight, the house surgeon, diagnosed the case, and at once telephoned Dr. Joseph A. Blake. Within an hour and a half after the stabbing Johnson was on the operating table. Dr. Blake performed the operation with Dr. Dwight assisting.

First the surgeons made an incision along the upper border of the third rib, cutting from the sternum outward to the nipple line, thence down to the lower border of the fifth rib, thence inward to the sternum again, along the lower border of that rib.

This cut was deepened to the ribs, and then the third and fifth ribs were severed at the nipple line, the fourth having been cut through by the weapon that caused the wound. The operation to this point had resulted in the cutting of a sort of a trap door, which was easily raised, and turned back over the sternum with the costal cartilage as a hinge.

When the trap door was lifted and the pleura exposed, the left lung collapsed, and a pint of blood was found in the pleural cavity. It was found that the lung itself was not injured, but a small wound was discovered in the pericardium, or shell which incases the heart, from which the blood was running. The pericardium was then opened, and the heart itself exposed. This exposure of the heart showed the exact nature of the wound.

In the right ventricle, close to the anterior coronary artery, there was a wound in the heart about one half an inch in length, from which, at every contraction or beat of the heart, a little stream of blood spurted to a height of four inches. Examination showed that the wound extended to the central cavity of the heart.

The heart was grasped in the hand to steady it, just as one would clasp a fluttering bird in order to examine a wound. Four stitches with silk thread were then taken in the heart, it being necessary to sew entirely through the wall of the heart for that purpose. The wound was then drawn together and the flow of blood entirely checked.

Since that time, over a week ago, there has been no further bleeding from the wound in the heart, which is apparently entirely healed. Nor has there been any sign of blood poisoning. On the morning after the operation, however, the patient had a high temperature, and signs of pneumonia appeared in the lower lungs.

Traces of this pneumonia still persist, and it is this, and not the condition of the man's heart, that is causing the attending surgeons anxiety. The difficult and rarely attempted operation of sewing up the heart has apparently been performed with complete success.

Dice Turn Up "Seven" Five Times for Judge

1920

Negro Caught With "Loaded Bones" is Fined $200

KANSAS CITY, Mo., March 18. — The magic number seven failed to bring luck to Al Fields, negro dealer in supplies for crap shooters, in South Municipal Court, when Judge Edward J. Fleming took a turn at the dice. Fields, who was arrested on the street by "Tug" Carter, "ace" of the negro policemen, had in his possession a complete outfit for loading dice as well as a jar containing forty dice which Patrolman Carter declared were loaded.

"Them dice ain't loaded, judge," protested Fields.

"We'll see," said Judge Fleming.

The judge rattled the "bones" three times. Every time they turned up "seven."

"That's just luck, judge," insisted Fields.

Judge Fleming shook twice again. Each time "seven" faced him.

"Two hundred dollars," said the judge.

Fields was sent to the municipal farm to work out his fine.

Decatur Doctor Caught Digging Up Negro Cadaver

Illinois, 1879

BODY SNATCHING.

A Decatur Doctor After a Negro Cadaver

His Operations Brought to a Sudden Conclusion.

The Decaturites are all worked up over a body snatching affair that occurred last Friday night. A prominent Decatur physician is implicated in the affair, and if he shows up the Decatur folks promise him an anti-cordial reception.

It seems that the above mentioned physician wanted to increase his knowledge of the human frame, and with this end in view he climbed the fence of a Decatur graveyard, having in his possession those necessary grave-robbing instruments, a pick and shovel. Strange to say this son of Esculapius seems to have a horror for the Caucasians. The reason of this is not known, but it is thought that Caucasian "stiffs" do not "pan out" as well as those of other races, therefore he concluded to get a "subject" of the African persuasion.

Having arrived at this conclusion he wended his way toward the "last resting place" of a recently "planted" negro. As soon as the grave was reached he unslung his pick and immediately began to delve into the newly made grave. He worked away with a will, and he was just stooping to raise the lid of the coffin when the deep stillness of the night was broken by the loud report of what seemed to him about seventeen cannons. The bullets flew past his cranium and buried themselves in the earth a few feet beyond him. The perspiration started in great beads to his forehead, and dropping his pick and shovel he precipitately fled. Scaling the graveyard fence, he took a short cut for his stable. Arriving there he immediately hitched his horse to a buggy, and in less time than it takes to "blow up a safe" he was driving across the country at a "Sleepy Tom" gait, and no tidings of his whereabouts have been received up to this writing.

The names of all parties are reserved, as it is thought that there will be further developments made.

—Fort Wayne Sentinel, Fort Wayne, IN, Aug. 19, 1879, p. 4.