Today is the anniversary of my birth. Another circle is added to my experience. I am sitting today in my accustomed piece of writing and gazing back on the dim past; just as I used to do, in my youthful days: dream and gaze into the dim future, building my “Castles in Spain.” Comparing the present with with the past I had that many of my dreams have been realized, many have been disappointments, or rather, have not materialized and, perhaps, better for me that they have not. I am still here, […] the same being I was in youth, and if we may accept Huxley’s comparison of the human body to an eddy in a river, “ever changing yet always the same: as a definition, I am the same being I was in youth, barring the mutations to time and the infirmities of age. This is a strange old world,” many say, yet I have found it the best I have been in, of which I have cognizance. I have found truth in the following: “Man proposes but God disposes.” And always for the best, we can see, after our disappointment is over. I often thinks what a merciful provision it is in God’s great economy that we cannot read or see into the future, what a world of sadness and sorrow we are saved. We know the past the future is unknown. Could we penetrate the future and see the result of this earthly evolution, I would imagine there would be more suicides than there are. Not altogether to escape an existence here, which may be pleasant, but to the sooner gain the greater felicitation that will be the inevitable result of our environments here or, as a logical sequence, the greater condemnation., I am another year older; and enter on another cycle of earthly existence. If the future shall be as propitious as has been the past, I shall have no cause of complaint and shall jog along as happy and contented as can be. We wish all the readers of the Chronicle a happy New Year, their wives, their sweethearts and all their friends! The readers will permit me to close this article with a stanza from Robert Browning which strikes the key note of age:
“Trust God
Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be.
The last of life for which the first was made.
Our times are in his hand
who saith, ‘A whole I planned,
youth shows but half;
Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!”[i]
“Got any calendars? Got any calendars? Such is the inquiry that for the last week, or more, has greeted the officials of the S. T. T. & S. D. Co.’s bank, morning, noon and afternoon, by the school children of the town., The above named company has had some very pretty calendars produced with a beautiful lithographic deigns thereon; for general distribution. The children of the town knew this, particularly the little girls, and they want them. In order to get more than one they will watch an opportunity and if they have already secured on from Mr. Black they will watch when he is out and go to Mr. Lank for another, and vice versa. And, also the children of large families will come each one of them to get one of them pretty things. There is one family of six children who have all been there, and get one each. Now, these calendars were printed for distribution and we only make these remarks to show how a pretty picture attracts; not especially the old but the little ones, also.
The official Board of the M. E. Church, met on Tuesday evening and appointed a committee to inquire into the practicality, advisability and possibility of buying a pipe organ for the church.
George Ellingsworth has removed from Chestnut Street to North Union Street and James Walls had removed from Prime Hook into the property vacated by Mr. Ellingsworth.
The Sr. O. U. A. M. held a symposium in the Red Men’s Hall on Wednesday evening of last week.
The ice houses of town are all filled with nice clear ice over five inches thick, except J. H. Prettyman’s. Handy has two houses, capacity about 1000 tons. He is filling these with a gasoline engine and on toboggan slides. It is arranged so the ice, in storing, is not touched by a person’s hand until it is loaded into the building, where the packers sack it. Handy is a genius.
Another disgraceful mess occurred in the lower part of town on Thursday night when pistols were shot and one head split by some instrument. George and Edward Clendaniel were arrested on Friday as being ring leaders in the riot and arraigned before Esquire Collins, who held each under $500 bail for Court, and gave them until 6 o’clock to furnish bondsmen, Edward Clendaniel gave his father, J. C. Clendaniel, as bondsman, but George, his brother, did not appear and skipped during the night, taking Elias Bailey’s wife with him. Elias says, “My wife’s ‘loped!” The woman has been married 17 years, is the mother of 7 children, the youngest being 11 months old. She left her husband about two weeks ago and has been bumming around town until she “‘loped” on Friday evening as above stated.
In regard to Christmas day, we may exclaim in Caesar’s language to the Roman Senate: “Veni! Vidi! Vici!—“I came, I saw, I conquered!” We didn’t came, as we were already here; we “sawed” all” there was to “saw”; and we suppose we have conquered, as we discern no disagreeable dyspeptic effects as an aftermath.
The weather preceding Christmas was Christmas-like weather, up to the day before Christmas day, which was a rainy disagreeable time, and to add to the discomfort of the merchants, and others, who use the Georgetown electric plant, all their lights went out about 8 o’clock, and the streets were in darkness until 11:00 o’clock. A pretty situation for a Christmas Eve. However, Christmas morning dawned clear, cool and crisp, unheralded by any shooting or boomerang. The M. P. Church led off by holding a service of prayer, after which the congregation went home to a breakfast of “buckwheat cakes and sausage: or something else equally as good. At 10.30 services were held in both of the Methodist churches, and good congregations were present. Turkey dinner, goose dinner, duck dinner, and possibly some chicken dinner was the gastronomic spread that followed. In afternoon both the M. E. and M. P. Sunday school children were given their annual treat at their respective churches. The day closed with an entertainment given by the M. E. Sunday School in the auditorium of that church, It was quite a: Merry Christmas,” and notwithstanding the pessimistic prediction of some of the merchants, they did a good business.
On Monday evening “The Story of the Star,” a Christmas cantata, was rendered by the members of the M. P. Sunday School, in School Hall. There was a goodly number present and the proceeds go to the benefit of the church.
The awards of the “wagon” and “doll” premiums will be made at Carey & Darby’s store on next Saturday afternoon, December 31st.
The shirt and overall factory, closed for one week, on Saturday, and will reopen on Monday, January 2nd.
Mamie Conner left on Monday and will spend the holidays in Philadelphia.
A band of Gipsys (sic) are encamped opposite Lavinia’s Woods, and the female portion are “doing the town.”
The house owned by H. K. Wagamon, and in tenure of Elias Bailey, is being repaired.
There is no “coal famine” in Milton, has not been, nor is there likely to be one.
Arthur Conwell and wife, of Philadelphia, are the guest of his mother and sister.
W. W. Conwell has removed his office into one of the upper rooms of the Mears building.
The schooner Sand Snipe unloaded a cargo of coal last week, and will winter at Milton dock.
Rev. Isaiah Lusk is again visiting his family at Westerly, R. I.
Edwin T. Johnson, engaged at railroading in Connecticut, is home for the holidays.
Capt. Andrew Davidson is visiting his family.
Capt. Silas Dodd is the guest of Milton.
Capt. Hames Fowler is spending the holidays in Milton.
Miss Lydia Black, school teacher at Bear Station, is the guest of her parents, Postmaster and Mrs. J. L. Black.
A New York vaudeville company has been giving entertainments during the past week, and will continue in School Hall this week. It is said to be a good entertainment for 15 cents.
We take this method to return our thanks to the many friends who have sent us tokens of regard during the holidays. Some of these are from old acquaintances, others are from literary friends to whom we are known, only through the columns of the Chronicle. We acknowledge, particularly, a volume of poems, “An Age Hence,” from George Theodore Welch, M. D., of Passaic, N. J. and of which himself is the author. This week we shall read with attentive avidity, and cherish as a bright souvenir of remembrance. We also acknowledge kindly greetings from Captain George E. Kimmey of Philadelphia, and many other friends from different parts. These unsolicited tokens of appreciation rally do me good; and coming as some of them do, from persons who have been, and yet are, mental derricks in the professional and literary world, and whose reputations ae among their many equipments for a life of usefulness, all make on think that life is really worth living.
“Kind words are more than coronets,
and simple faith than Norman blood.”[ii]
Again we wish our readers a “Happy New Year.”
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[i] This verse is frequently quoted in print and on inspirational bric-a-brac and other such items. The poem was the basis for one of John Lennon’s final recordings, Grow Old With Me.
[ii] This is a quotation from the poem Lady Clara Vere de Vere by Alfred Lord Tennyson, written in 1842. The poem provided the title for the 1949 British film Kind Hearts and Coronets.