The battle has been fought, the victory is won; yet there are some sad hearts in the old town to-night, boys! Political parties, like individuals, gain much by experience; she is a dear teacher, yet she eventually leads one to see things in their true light. In the campaign just closed, we have but little doubt the managers, or those who wanted to be managers, see how different results might have been attained. It is useless to try to turn down the older men of a party for a few younger ones. Like “Banquo’a bloody ghost,” they will not down. “Shake not your gory locks at me. Thou can‘st not say I did it,” is the cry of more Macbeths than one. But in regard to the campaign; it is over, and everyone can tell you how it was done. The writer’s inability to view things through irrelivent [sic] glasses knocked our letter into a “cocked hat” last week; for after we had written our missive, we became informed of material that would have placed us in a false position had we published it. As we have said above the “campaign is over.” The successful candidates have our congratulations, the defeated ones our sympathy. In the latter case, we know how it is; in the former, we have never tasted of the sweets of victory.
What’s the use of sighing,
While time is on the wing.
This life is human folly.
Then cheerily, cheerily sing.[i]
Go in again, brethren-never say die: you may eventually come out like the fellow who was tried before a Missouri court for stealing hams; you may be elected, as he was cleared, from the fact that every man on the jury had some of the hams.
The Town Bailiff is this week repairing the leak at the bridge. In our opinion he is acting, partly right this time, by digging down to the foundation. Yet, we cannot think he has gone far enough; and filling the excavation with bats, will only make the work next time more difficult of digging out. This job is a constant expense to the town. It ought to be apparent to everyone that it takes a mechanic to do a mechanical job; and this in his own particular sphere. Any sensible man would consider a person a fool to send for a school teacher to attend a case of pneumonia; and with all due respect to “Mark Twain,” to carry his watch to a blacksmith’s shop for repairs[ii]. Yet, isn’t it done in Milton. “’Tis useless to cast pearls before swine” don’t apply to railroad employees alone.
I have a little grandson, and Mr. James Jester, a near neighbor, has a monkey. My little boy likes the monkey, but he wants his South American friend to keep a respectable distance. My little boy is just beginning to talk. The other morning, while seated at the breakfast table, he took hold of a buckwheat cake and said, “If Mr. Jester-‘s monkey bites me, there’ll be a hot time in the old town tonight.” “Where did he learn that language?” said I to his mother. “O! down at the merry-go-round ” They’re gone now. I relate this to show how the little folks catch up any, and perhaps, everything they hear.
The Misses Elizabeth M. and Mayme A Conner, delegates to the Sussex County Sunday School Convention, together with the Rev. L. P. Corkran, and superintendent of Sunday School J. B. Welch, and many other Miltonians, are in Milford, at the present writing.
Presiding Elder Dr. Baker preached at the M. E. Church on Sunday evening. The Quarterly Conference was held on Monday evening. The protracted meeting at Zion, belonging to this charge, commenced on last Sunday evening.
The sawing wood business is galore in Milton. Hand saws are in demand, and even our preachers are at the wood pile with their coats off, and with saws lately bought are making the air whizz. “lt’s an ill wind that blows nobody good.”
[i] This verse appears to be adapted from a hymn published in an 1836 hymnal for those “who are slaves to no sect.”
[ii] From The Simon Wheeler Sequence by Mark Twain, a satirical play.