The phrase, “the hazy days of October,” has become proverbial; that the first week of November was as pretty and balmy as were the noted days of the previous month. Particularly was Tuesday election morning beautiful. The sun arose in all his splendor and wended his way toward the zenith. A sun that Napoleon would have called “the sun of Austerlitz.” At an early hour people began to arrive in town–they came from all quarters and were of all complexions, style and contour. Some remarked “a rainy day for the Democrats,” because it connotes darkness and dullness, and “a pretty day for the Republicans” because it is suggestive of life and advancement. And it was so. The polls opened at 9 o’clock, and the voting began. A line was formed which advanced continually, and remained unbroken until the evening. Six hundred and thirty-eight votes were polled; twenty-eight less than the registration. The Republican majority was 46, and Broadkiln Hundred the Democratic stronghold, which never gave a Republican victory before, is broken. It was a Republican landslide; a political holocaust! How in thunder did it happen boys? The Milton Democrats say “money, the damned n*****s and pensioners did it;” but this is all boys; a Democrat said to me the day after “many of our best Democrats didn’t vote the ticket.” “Do you know the reason?” said I. “Yes” he replied, and nothing further was said on the subject.
Many people passed through Milton on Thursday to Georgetown to be present on that memorable “return night.” But few people from town went. The victory is too complete, and the people of Milton are too sympathetic to gloat over the discomfiture of a fallen foe. Though bearing up bravely, the humiliation is great to the Democrats.
The widows of Ashur are laid in their wail,
and the idols are broken in the temple of Baal,
and the night of the Gentile unsmote by the sword,
hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!”[i]
The cozy little barber shop built by F. H. Danzlars, for the use of John Megee is about completed.
Sallie Davidson has been appointed “hello girl” at the phone exchange, vice, Miss Amy Palmer resigned.
The saw mill of Joseph Carey, near Parker’s Branch, was destroyed by fire some time on Friday night, together with a quantity of lumber. The origin of the fire is unknown and it was not discovered until next morning when everything was consumed. The sawed and machinery a supposed to be ruined.
The leaves are still falling, the busy housewife is still sweeping and paterfamilias is still cussing.
The Queen Anne’s track, near Milton, has been nicely guttered on either side and looks as though it belongs to someone.
The storm of Sunday kept us all within doors. We read our Bible, periodicals, and papers while the girls looked over the fashion plates, and taught the little boy picture lessons and then gazed out at the weather, wishing it would clear off. There was a small congregation at the M. E. Church in the morning, but no service in the afternoon or evening. No services were held at the M. P. Church during the day.
The steamer that had backed down to near the bridge to put on another propeller, was obliged on account of the wind, to get up steam and go back to her dock, without accomplishing the job.
Thomas J. Roach, who was stricken with paralysis at Lincoln on Election Day, died at his home on Saturday night—aged 55 years, 5 months and 22 days. Funeral services were held on Tuesday by Rev. Joshua Gray, at Slaughter Neck church, and interment made in the adjacent cemetery. S. J. .Wilson & son conducted the funeral.
G. W. Atkins and wife are visiting their daughter, Mrs. Estella Darby, at Camden, N. J., and will remain until after Thanksgiving.
Mrs. S. J. Wilson, accompanied by her son, Mr. John Wilson, left on Thursday morning to visit the World’s Fair at St. Louis, Mo.
The shirt factory closed on Monday for election week. It opened last Monday.
A notable case of politeness in a colored man was noticeable on Election Day. He was in the line and nearly ready to vote, seeing J. B. Welch standing off and knowing he was a druggist, and to take his turn could not get to vote within an hour, politely tipped his hat and said. “Mr. Welch take my place.” Mr. Welch did so and James Robinson, the polite colored man returned to the farther end of the line.
Edward Stevenson, tenant on Mark Davidson’s farm, in Prime Hook Neck, is said to have a large crop of large corn and that forty ears will fill a bushel basket.
A chicken rooster and a seven-year-old girl had a fight on Front Street on Sunday, and the little girl got whipped. This is authenticated.
While passing up Federal Street to our home one evening last week, about 7.30 o’clock, we espied three females on the opposite of the way trying to peep under the curtain that was partly drawn up at the home of a most respected family. I stopped and they seemed to be very anxious to see something, and continued to peep until they heard me, and they left. I don’t know that I recognized them, but possibly I did.
Schooner Rambo, Captain Rodgers, is at Milton dock, discharging a cargo of lime.
Dr. Leonard is studying engraving under J. B. Welch. The specialty is casket plates.
S. J. Martin is having a pavement put in front of his property on Federal Street.
[i] Quotation from the poem The Destruction of Sennacherib by Lord Byron, written in 1815 as part of the collection titled Hebrew Melodies. The poem is faithful to the Biblical account of the defeat of Assyrian King Sennacherib’s army besieging Jerusalem, by the “angel of death.” The account of the siege can be found in the Old Testament (II Kings 18-19, II Chronicles 32, and Isaiah 37) as well as works by other ancient historians. What actually happened is in dispute.
Lord Byron’s poem was widely anthologized, taught to schoolchildren who memorized it, and included in the McGuffey readers used in primary schools of the day.