November 21, 1902

Mrs. Margaret A. Jarris, wife of Sidney A. Jarris, died at her home at Harbeson, on Wednesday afternoon, the 12th inst., aged 46 years, 6 months and 11 days. The funeral services were held at Beaver Dam Church on Saturday morning, the Revs. Frank Holland and L. P. Corkran officiating, and interment made in Milton cemetery, under the direction of S. J. Wilson, undertaker and embalmer.

Mrs. Jarris leaves to survive her a husband, one son, six brothers and one sister:§—Captain John B. Megee and Captain George E. Megee, of Milton; Captain W. H. Megee, of Philadelphia; Captain Theodore Megee, of Harbeson; Captain Caleb Megee, Galveston, Texas; and Mr. Alfred Megee, a prosperous farmer of near Harbeson, and Mrs. Ella Bryan, of near Milton. Perhaps it may not be amiss to say in this obituary notice, there never was a family more prolific of captains, not one whose members have stood by one another so well. The writer knows whereof he writes and, at least, one half of the members as this family, have been pupils of his.

It will be remembered that about a year ago the writer took occasion to give publicity to a novel way that “Billy” Robinson had, and yet has of making unbearable fruit trees produce. We stated at that time that “Billy” had given a certain barren apple tree a sound thrashing: and after expostulating with it, thrashed it again. The result was a good crop of apples last fall. We have been led to recall this circumstance by Mr. Robinson having left another apple of this year’s fruitages at the drug store of J. H. Welch, with his compliments to “D A. C.,” stating the tree had yielded abundantly again this year. Any one who has the temerity to doubt the truth of this story, please call on Mr. Robinson for authentication.

Prof. Fearing has lately repainted the front of the Milton National Bank. The trimmings are nicely arranged, and the work looks well.

E. T. Johnson, who has been engaged at railroading near Roxborough, Pa., is visiting his family, and will go to Prince, West Virginia, as his next objective point.

A party of gentlemen were in town last week in the interest of a trolley line. The line appears to be so circuitous that we have not, as yet, been able to grasp its geographical import; and we don’t think its projectors have. They were chaperoned around by several gentlemen of local import. The last we saw of them they were heading for Milford.

The shirt factory has been closed for a week, pending advisement front other quarters. Not for the want of work. That is plenty and employees are in demand.

The onion sets that were planted a short time ago, are about two inches up, and plenty of them in Mr. Fox’s lot, who planted three baskets of sets.

It is all right to paint the iron work on the lamps along the street, but it would appear to be right to get someone to do it who would not wipe his hands on the posts after he had smeared everything else ever, and thereby ruin ladies’ dresses; dresses cost money; and there were several damaged last week by this headedness. If nothing better can be suggested, it is propered [sic] to take up the lamp posts, carry them to some convenient place, and after having painted them return to original position.

The crack, crack of the breech loaders is heard in the land. The fun commenced on Saturday morning. The dogs and paraphernalia are galore. Some of the dogs are worth hundreds, all of the gunners take their stimulants from silver-mouthed flagons-and many of them don’t care which end is up. “So long”

The prettiest advertisement we ever have seen was displayed in front of Betts & Jefferson‘s store on Saturday. It was a combination of boots and shoes, with a hog’s-head in the center. They sold the hog’s-head[i] against my earnest protestations, and thereby destroyed the beauty of the adv.

Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans in one of her beautiful poems writes, “Leaves have their time to fall,[ii]” but if one will question the ladies and others who have been sweeping their side-walks, they may tell you “there is a time, a time, and half a time,[iii]” and the end is not yet.

Some people question the politeness of a man who stands on the street and watch a female from the counter drive up to a store, alight and hitch the horse, instead of tendering their services, and doing the work for them. The fact is it is not for the want of politeness-but these ladies know more about horses than many of the town gentry; and if a man wishing to be polite, offers his services they will,—-many of them—stand off and laugh at his awkwardness. There are several of this class who visit Milton, find the clerks in the stores know them all; and whenever they see them coming, will hide to keep from waiting on them. When asked the reason for their seeming impoliteness, they will tell you, ‘O, there is nothing in them; they drive to every store in town to get waited on. We know them all.”

Mr. Will Ingram, wife and child visited parents on Saturday and Sunday. The parties are from Trinity.

When a man cannot run his business without sluring a business man, it is about time to turn his quasi authority to its belongings.

As a result of President Boslee, of the Queen Anne’s Railroad, together with another gentleman from Baltimore, visiting here, there is being a switch located at Beadsley & Lofland’s brick yard.

Mrs. Mary E. Warrington, wife of James L. Warrington, died at her home near Prettyman’s Corner on Monday, of consumption, aged 48 years, ‘2 months, and 2 days. Funeral services were held at Slaughter Neck M. E. Church on Thursday morning, the Rev. Mr. Strickland, of Nassau, officiating, and the remains were inhumed in the cemetery nearby by. S. J. Wilson conducted the interment.

There is a big tide in at the present time—4 o’clock. Magnolia Street is flooded. The top of “Billy” Robinson’s boat-house is visible above the water. Thomas Spencer has taken the precaution to remove his boat and open the door of his boat-house. What the night tide may devolve remains to be seen.


[i] A “hog’s head” or hogshead is a cask of a specified volume used for alcoholic beverages. A cask is a far more likely advertising prop in this case than an actual hog’s head.

[ii] Early Victorian poet Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793 – 1835) is a favorite of David A. Conner, and the poem from which this phrase is excerpted – The Hour of Death – is often quoted by him.

[iii] This is paraphrased excerpt from the Old Testament, Daniel 7:25 and 12:7, and the New Testament, Revelation 12:14.