The mutilation of the flowers on some graves—or a grave—in the Milton cemetery has attracted attention. Now these flowers are exotics, and have cost the children of the deceased some money and we consider them very pretty. They, on account of these cuttings, have been compelled in order to save them, to remove them from the cemetery before the cold weather has necessitated the time for potting them. It is a very serious offense to “rob a grave.” Now the above does not apply to the parties to whom was give the privilege of making cuttings from these exotics, in consideration of their care of them but to the vandals who have taken the privilege to desecrate a grave and steal the flowers and ferns therefrom. These parties are most, if not all of them, known.

The horse attached to Betts & Collins’ delivery wagon became frightened on Thursday morning, while standing in front of the Ponder House. Mr. Morgan, the bookkeeper of the hostelry, seeing the situation—these being in the wagon a boy driver—tried to stop the animal; but the bridle came off the horse, and Mr. Morgan, to save himself, got out of the way. The horse ran between a large maple tree and the railing that enclosed the cellarway of the hotel, and adown the narrow alley leading to the rear bar room door. It is supposes the horse wanted a drink. The wagon top was shattered to “smithereens,” but the boy driver was unhurt; neither was there any harm done to the horse. The same horse ran away with the same driver only a few weeks ago, and from the same point, and fetched up in a direct opposite direction, smashing William Mears’ barber pole. It is thought that if many more accidents of this kind occur, Messrs. Betts & Collins will set up a wheelwright shop for their own benefit. This is three runaways we have had in Milton of late without anyone getting hurt, and leads to the conclusion:

“There’s a divinity which shapes currents, Rough hew them as we may.”

Quite an excitement occurred in town on Wednesday of last week, occasioned by the appearance of an automobile on our streets. It came from Lewes, and was the “observed of all observers.”

Mrs. Susie B. Davidson returned to Philadelphia on Thursday. She has been the guest of her father and his daughters for a month.

E. N. Lofland, who has charge if the Marshall property, has had the sidewalks repaired.

A Polish child—Atena Cophsheav, died at Harbeson, and was buried by S. J. Wilson in the Beaver Dam Cemetery last week. The child was the daughter of a widowed mother who came to this town to work in the canning factory, as was nineteen months of age. On this occasion Mr. Wilson has and experience to which he was heretofore a stranger, and which, perhaps, will never be duplicated. The mother, who appeared to be all grief, came to Mr. Wilson after the funeral rites were over, and untied a handkerchief and took from it money sufficient to pay his bill; then taking his right hand in hers, she pressed it to her lips and kissed it; then taking the left hand she did with it likewise. This was a strange experience to Mr. Wilson, who says, “I felt queer way down in my stomach.” As the mother knew no English, and interpreter was employed, who it is said could not be understood much better that the mother. A small boy did the talking to Mr. Wilson, and also explained the burial readings. The people are Catholics, but as no priest could be found, the funeral ceremony was performed by a Methodist minister. It is though the act of kissing Mr. Wilson’s hands was her way of showing her appreciation for his services.

As far as the tomato business is a factor, there never was seen such a time as was witnessed at the Milton depot on Wednesday of last week. The fruit took a tumble to seven cents a basket, and as the growers were rushing the produce into market so fast, every car became loaded, and the factories were so crowded that buying stopped. There were many loads carried back by the growers, or thrown away along the roadside. Curses vile, and anathemas strong, were rained upon the heads of the buyers, but they were powerless. Those who had previously contracted now came in, and received fourteen cents a basket, while the ones who were taking their chances took them as seven cents—or nothing. “There are cheats in all trades but ours.” The sellers want to get all they can and the buyers want to buy as low as they can. This is but natural; and the fact is recognized by both parties. During the latter part of the week, five cents was the price paid for many. The glut will doubtless soon be over, when prices will be higher.

Charles Johnson, alias “Goodwood,” was sent to Farnhurst[i] last week in a demented condition. He came from Lewes and was subject to crazy turns. After being confined in the lockup for some time, it was deemed advisable to ship him north. Mr. John Black accompanied him.

Miss Delema Wilson, of Milford, spent last week with Miss Lizzie Black.

On last Thursday evening Miss Mayme Connor lost her class pin while going from her home to the M. E. Church.

Isaac W. Nailor has the new building of Frank Stockley’s on Federal Street enclosed and about ready for the masons; and now the owner wants it removed farther back from street, to give more front yard. This will be a Herculean task, considering the number of annexes there are to the building. But if anyone else can do the job, Mr. Nailor can.

Enterprise Council No. 16, Jr. O. U. A. M., has purchased a flag for the new school building at Beaver Dam, and the flag will be raised with proper ceremonies on the last Saturday of the present month.

Mrs. Amanda Robbins, of Camden, N. J., has been visiting her many friends around Milton.

Mr. John Black, who has been lately appointed to the position of postmaster of this town, took charge of the office on Monday evening.

Mr. Hartman, the junior partner of the “Big Store,” accompanied by Mrs. Hartman, went to Baltimore on Sunday.

W. F. Wilson, assistant postmaster, has received a pattern of the Rural Mail Delivery boxes. They will be sold for $1.75; are nicely made, and presumably will serve the purpose for which intended.

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[i] Otherwise known as the Delaware State Hospital for the Insane, Farnhurst still operates in New Castle, DE.