“There are poems that never were written,
There are songs that were never sung;
There are melodies far, far sweeter
Than e’er fell from mortal’s tongue.
There are gems that are purer, brighter,
There are pictures that never painter
On his canvas can reveal.[i]”
A brighter was visited upon Milton. The […] that has for some time warped business, stagnated industry, and sunken the town from Parker’s Landing to Lavinia’s Woods, and from its southern boundary to its northern limit, has passed away as though some genie with a magic wand had exclaimed: “Present! Let it be done!” All is now harmony. In the early morning, as men are hurrying along the streets, it is “good morning, brother,” “Bonjour, Monsieur!” “Bueno noche señor,”[ii] or some other equally pleasant mode of salutation. This apparent good feeling continues throughout the day, and […] the quiet […] of the evening; and it really looks as though the goddess of peace that’s returned the […] little town that […] clay upon the banks of the Broadkill. And this is nice. The metamorphose is agreeable, and […] appreciated by all good Christians. There is no longer any […] around […] to hear some delectable words of slander about me or thee, but frankness and fairness are coming to be the chief constituents in the […] of Milton sociology. WE will make no inquiry regarding the change; it is apparent to us, and it must be to others. Let the good work go on and in a short time it may become self-evident that a little missionary work is more appreciated at home than it is among the heathen of Timbuctoo, or the savages of Ujija.
“For the honest thoughts are wordless,
And the highest […]
Show us ever a loftier […],
A thought that is more sublime.
The most ravishing notes of music
Wake a […], sweeter strain,
And the […] […] […],
Teach us but to blend again.”
If the leader will thoughtfully ponder the stanza that precedes the above item and the one that follows it, he will find in them something beautiful, sublime and to the point. They were written by J. R. Shepard[iii].
Captain John Fisher and daughter Miss Edith were the guests of Mrs. Margaret Prettyman last week. Captain Fisher came via Cape May, and stayed but a few days.
Burton M. Robinson, a government employee at Washington, D. C., is at home and will spend the autumn in looking around.
E. W. Lofland will commence to build another yacht soon. Mr. Lofland will build this one on Magnolia Street near the upper part of the river, so as to be handy for launching. Mr. Lofland will set apart a certain day in the week when people may come to tell him “how I Would do it,” and give him advice on other points. The special day on which Mr. Lofland will receive the “busybodies” will be published further on.
P. Frank Atkins and family of Philadelphia were the guests of his parents last week.
A short time since, there were three men standing on the street corner, all born the same year, same month and the same day of the month.
Schooner Annie Russell, Captain Dutton, had been overhauling near the bridge.
Some carbing gas been put down on Federal Street during the past week.
Samuel Bailey, of Milton, and Miss Bell Parker, of Dagsboro, were united in marriage at the home of the bride on Wednesday the 19th inst. They are now visiting in Milton.
The schoolhouse at Harbeson is about enclosed. J. H. Davidson, of Milton, is the builder.
James Palmer is repairing the sidewalk of that portion of his property fronting on Chestnut Street.
George Conwell, son of Dr. Joseph Conwell, at present mayor of Vineland, N. J., is visiting his uncle David M. Conwell and other friends.
P. Frank Atkins, of Philadelphia, addressed the M. E. Sabbath School on Sunday afternoon. Pete is well known in Milton and his talent appreciated.
A fracas occurred on the colored camp ground, near town, on Sunday night. Several shots were fired—outside of the ground—and one man cut. A lady evangelist arrived on Sunday afternoon and during the next week, or as long as the meeting shall continue, will look after the spiritual interests of the visitors. A disgraceful fight occurred the past week amongst some of the women tenters on the ground; but this was quickly stopped by the Rev. Jackson, who asserted his authority. The gate receipts on Sunday amount to $55.75.
The shirt factory resumed work on Monday, after an enforced closure of three week, two of which were made necessary by Lavinia’s camp.
Town council is again having work done on the streets.
Some of the employers of town don’t like the way their employees have of stopping work any time during the week to play baseball. It puts them to much inconvenience, and they say the practice will stop. A word to the wise, etc.
Captain W. H. Megee, who has been a guest of his son-in-law W. W. Conwell, of the First National Bank, and also a rusticator at Broadkiln Beach for several weeks, returned to Philadelphia on Monday.
Schooner Lydia and Mary arrived from Philadelphia on Monday with a cargo of coal for Conwell & CO. These gentlemen are retailing the coal at $6.40 a ton.
The practice that young men have of flying the “baseball” on public thoroughfares of town has become a nuisance, and is complained of by country people and is keeping country people out of the town. Can it not be stopped?
The Misses Elizabeth and Mayme Conner spent a portion of last week at Rehoboth.
R. C. White, Esq., with a party of surveyors, was investigating the region where John Reed was killed. The survey was made on Monday.
G. W. Atkins is canvassing Caroline and Queen Anne’s counties, Md., this week, in the interest of C. H. Atkins’ shirt emporium.
Conwell & Co. are making large consignments to Baltimore of tomatoes this week. From 26 cts. to 31 cts. per basket are being paid.
A workman from Philadelphia is regulating the machinery in Dr. W. J. Hearn’s naphtha launch.
Mrs. C. H. Atkins, of Milton and daughter Mrs. Alens Richardson, of Dover, with other friends of the Capitol will return from their summer sojourn at Frontenne [sic][iv], and other places on the St. Lawrence, on Monday. They will then put in the remainder of the season at Milton’s favorite resort, Broadkiln Beach.
The writer of these letter would like to correspond with a lady between the ages of 18 and 60, with a view to matrimony.[v] Anyone feeling so inclined, can address in confidence as below.
A young Bohemian, protégé of Anton Neibert, about 13 years old, small for his age, of sallow complexion, ran away on Monday. Anyone seeing him will apprehend him and communicate with Anton Neibert, Milton, Del.
[i] The theme in this stanza seem to be derived from the poem Ode On A Grecian Urn by John Keats.
[ii] Spanish was not one of David A. Conner’s strong suits. He probably meant “buenos dias, señor!”
[iii] There is no trace of J. R. Shepard or his work on the Internet, but that only means his work is not on line. The whole first paragraph and quoted excerpts are obscure.
[iv] The probable location is Frontenac
[v] This little personal item is surprising. David A. Conner never remarried, dying a widower in 1919.