Everyone admires heroism; he may be a poet, like Pope—never out of his bed, a confirmed invalid—he may be a Marshal Ney[i], who never acknowledge defeat. Yet among the heroism of men, those among women loom up, as factors who make history. Joanna de Arc – the maid of Orleans – is a conspicuous example of bravery or fanaticism, call it which you may; yet she fid a duty which her male offices failed even to contemplate, and died a victim to the superstition of the age in which she lived. Charlotte Corday, the sad-faced, tender-hearted peasant girl of Normandy, made history by one desperate act. When Robespierre and Marat were leading the flower of France to the guillotine, sickened by the saturnalia of that French revolution, she determined to put an end to Marat’s bloody reign. Marat had demanded two hundred thousand victims for the guillotine. His thought appears to have been, to kill off the enemies of that revolution and make it perpetual. Can anyone doubt the zeal that fired the heart and thrilled the blood of that peasant maid? Gaining access to his closely guarded quarters by a subterfuge, she found him in his bath, even then inexorable and giving written directions for the slaughter. He asked her the names of the inimical deputies who had taken refuge in Caen. She told him and he wrote them down. “That is well! Before a week is over they shall all be brought to the guillotine.“ At these words Charlotte drew from her bosom the stiletto, and plunged it with superhuman force up to the hilt in the heart of Marat. While in Washington about five years ago, I visited the Corcoran Gallery where is a famous picture of Charlotte Corday represented as behind the prison bars the day before her execution. It is the thrilling, sad picture of heroism for her suffering country. History has made Charlotte Corday great; she made herself greater.
- J. Wilson, who was elected National Representative to the Convention of I. O. H., which met in Boston last week, left Milton on the 9th for Baltimore, from whence, in company with the other delegates, he took steamer for Boston, where the convention was held on the 10th, 11th, and 12th inst. Mr. Wilson was accompanied by Mrs. Wilson, who both express themselves as much pleased with their trip.
Mr. R. Davis Carey, of Philadelphia, and sister, Miss Susie, visited town last week.
Commencing last Thursday, the shirt factory of Douglass & White will begin work at 6 o’clock a. m. and quit at 5 o’clock p. m. This is intended to give the employees more time in the evening.
New potatoes were in market on Saturday and of fine quality.
Hon. Paynter Frame thinks we did not give him enough credit for his first venture in the trapping line; as he caught more animals than we reported in last week’s issue. Nevertheless, we did the best we could from the data we had.
The morning train now passes Lavinia’s Crossing at 7 and 7.30.
Justice-of-the-Peace E. L. Collins has his office located in the Mayor’s office, and is ready for business.
On Saturday evening the special train that passes Milton about six o’clock, when below Overbrook, ran over a colored deaf mute, killing him instantly. The train stopped and took the body and conveyed it to Lewes. On Sunday the coroner empaneled a jury at Lewes, which, after viewing the remains, was taken to Rehoboth where the train hands as witnesses were met and an inquest held, which exonerated the employees of the road from any blame for the accident. This train does not make any stoppage between Denton and Lewes. The engineer stated that when the train passed Overbrook, it was running 55 miles an hour, when he saw a man ahead walking. He commenced blowing the danger signal, but the man paid no attention to it. He commenced applying the brakes, but was so close upon him that he could not get his train down to less than ten miles an hour; and the result is as stated. Henry Holland was quite a familiar character in Broadkiln, and Lewes and Rehoboth hundreds. The writer has known him at least thirty years. While he could not hear nor talk, he could write a little, and if one wanted to ask him a question he would answer by writing. He was, perhaps, between sixty and seventy years of age, and his remains were buried at Burton’s Chapel on Tuesday.
William Herlam, a Boston artist, is decorating the windows of many places of business in town, with the names of the firms in beautiful colors. He is quite an artist of decorative qualities, and while at his work little knots of people gathered along the street and on the corners, watching the skill with which he uses the brush.
Some people are so ungodly stingy, that they won’t take a newspaper; and so infernal ignorant that they cannot, or will not, comprehend good English; yet if someone tells them there is an item in a paper referring to themselves, they “will search Jerusalem with a lighted candle,” if needs be, to find a paper, and having found one, many of them have not perception enough to know whether the article is a comment favorable or unfavorable.
The concentration of events lead many of us into strange paths, and often into forbidden ways. Environments are a great seducer, and he, who can withstand all of their seductive charms, is a miniature angel, or perhaps a god in embryo. Many of us at times get down so low that we think there is no hope of our rising again. But Tennyson has written, and there is much to ponder in his stanza:
“I hold in truth, with him who sings,
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping-stones
Of their dead selves to higher things.”[ii]
Following is an account of the marriage of Mr. Benjamin Dill, which took place at Everett, Washington, on May the 28th. Mr. Dill will be remembered by many as a former citizen of this town, who removed to the far West several years ago. The account has been sent us for publication:
On Tuesday, May 28, at 4 o’clock p. m., a very pretty wedding took place at the home of Mr. and Mrs. S. W. Sisco, on Grand Avenue, in Everett, Washington, when their daughter, Daisy, was united to Mr. Benjamin Dill, of Everett, Re, I. R. Lovejoy, officiating, The bride looked very sweet in a white silk grenadine made over cream silk; she wore cream roses and carried a bouquet of the same. The groom was faultlessly dressed in a handsome evening suit of black broadcloth. Miss Claire Bailey, dressed in white organdie over pink silk, wearing cream roses, acted as bridesmaid, and Mr. W. A. Thompson as groomsman. The parlor was beautifully decorated with cut flowers and potted plants, and the happy party marched in from the spacious hall to the strains of a wedding march. After the wedding ceremony, a delicious dinner was served. The happy couple received many handsome presents, among which was a check of $500 from the bride’s father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. S. W. Sisco. Only the intimate friends and relatives of the family were present. The bride and groom, accompanied by his mother, boarded the 6.20 train, amid a shower of rice, for a trip to various points of the sound. This happy couple has many good wishes of success and happiness o’er the seas of life.”
On Tuesday morning the writer had an attack of vertigo, and would have fallen from the stage on which I was at work had it not been for the assistance of fellow workmen, who managed with the help of Mr. Nailor to get me into the building through an upper window. Dr. Hopkins was summoned and assistance rendered. It is said I was unconscious for twenty minutes; but when I returned to consciousness was at my home, and knew nothing that occurred during the meantime. Had this communication not been finished in the early morning, it would probably no9t have been written at all. I am a little better this afternoon.
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[i] Michel Ney (1769 –1815), popularly known as Marshal Ney, was a French soldier and military commander during the French Revolutionary Wars and the Napoleonic Wars. He was one of the original 18 Marshals of the Empire created by Napoleon. Fiercely loyal and somewhat reckless, he served throughout the Napoleonic campaigns and finally in the Hundred Days campaign that ended with the defeat at Waterloo. He was executed by firing squad on December 7, 1815, possibly as a scapegoat for the defeat.
[ii] Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam