Demorralic: atc, | he was always sure of an audience. Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. Ii. 1899. WORTH WHILE. Tis easy enough to be pleasant When life flows along like a song; But the man worth while is the one who will smile When everything goes dead wrong; For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with the years, But the smile that is worth the praise of earth Is the smile that comes through tears. It is easy enough to be prudent, When nothing tempts you to stray; When without or within no voice of sin Is luring your soul away. But it’s only a negative virtue Until it is tried by fire, And the life that is worth the honor of earth, Is the one that resists desire. By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, Who had no strength for the strife, The world’s highway is cumbered to-day; They make up the item of life, But the virtue that conquers passion, And the sorrow that hides in a smile— It is these that are worth the homage of earth, For we find them but once in a while. IN MEMORY OF MARTHA. You may talk about banjo-playing if you will, but unless you heard old Ben in his palmy days you have no idea what genius can do with five strings stretched over the sheepskin. You have been told, perhaps, that the banjo is not an expressive instrument. Well, in the hands of the ordinary player it is not. But you should have heard old Ben, as bending low over the neck, with closed eyes, he made the shell respond like a living soul to his every mood. It sang, it laughed, it sighed; and, just at the tears began welling up into the listener’s eyes, it would break intoa merry reel that would set feet a-twinkling hefore one knew it. Ben and his music were the delight of the whole plantation, white and black, master and man, and in the evening when he sat before his cabin door, picking out tune after tune,hymn, ballad or breakdown Some- times it was a group of white children from the big house, with a row of pickaninnies pressing close to them. Sometimes it was old Mas’ and Mis’ themselves who strolled up to the old man, drawn by his strains. Often there was company, and then Ben would be asked to leave his door and play on the veranda of the big house. Later on he would come back to Martha laden with his rewards, and swelled with the praises of his powers. And Martha would say to him, ‘‘You, Ben, don’ you git conceity now; you des keep yo’ haid level. I des’ mo’n ’low you been up dah playin’ some o’ dem ongodly chunes, lak Hoe Co’n an’ Dig Tate’s.”’ Ben would laugh and say, ‘‘Well, den, I tek de wickedness offen de banjo. Swing in, ol’ ’ooman!”’ And he would drop into the accompaniment of one of the hymns that were thejoy of Martha’s religious soul, and she would sing with him, until with a flourish anid a thump, he brought the music to an end. # Next to his banjo, Ben loved Martha, and next to Ben, Martha loved the banjo. In a timeand a region where frequent changes of partners were common, these two servents were noted for their single- hearted devotion to each other. He had never had any other wife, and she had call- ed no other man hushand. Their children had grown up and gone to’ other planta- tions, or to cabins of theirown. So, aloue, drawn closer hy the habit of comradeship, they had grown old together—Ben, Martha and the banjo. One day Martha was taken sick, and Ben came home to find her moaning with pain, but dragging about trying to get his sup- per. With loud pretended upbraidings he bundled her into bed, got his own supper, and then ran to his master with the news. ‘‘Marfy, she down sick, Mas’ Tawm,’’ he said, ‘‘an’ I’s mighty oneasy in my min’ ’bout huh. Seem lak she don’ look right to me outen huh eyes.” ““I’11 send the doctor right down, Ben,” said his master. ‘‘I don’t reckon it’s any- thing serious. I wish you would come up to the house tonight with your banjo. Mr. Lewis is going to be here with his daughter and I want them to hear you play.”’ It was thoughtlessness on the master’s part; that was all. He did not believe that Martha could be very ill; but he would have reconsidered his command if he could have seen on Ben’s face the look of pain which the darkness hid. ‘“You’ll send the doctah Mas’?” ‘Oh, yes; I'll send him down. Don’t for- get to come up.”’ right away, * “I won’t fu’git,’”’ said Ben as he turned away. But he did not pick up his banjo to go to the big house until the plantation doc- tor had come and given Martha something to ease her. Then hesaid, ‘‘I’sgot to go up to the big house, Marfy; I be back putty soon.”’’ “Don’ you hu’y thoo on my ’count. You go ’long and give Mas’ Tawm good meas- ure, you hyeah ?”’ “Quit yo’ bossin’,’’ said Ben, a little more cheerfully; I got you whah you can’t wove, an’ ef you give me any o’ yo’ back talk I ’low I frail you monst’ous.’’ Martha chuckled a ‘‘go ’long,’’ and Ben went lingeringly out of the door, the banjo in its ragged cover under his arm. The plantation’s boasted musician played badly that night. Colonel Tom Curtis won- dered what was the matter with him, and Mr. Lewis told his daughter as he drove away that it seemed as if the Colonel’s fa- mous banjoist had been overrated. But who could play reels and jigs with the prop- er swing when before his eyes was the pic- ture of a smoky cabin room, and on the bed in it a sick wife, the wife of forty ears ? The black man Lurried back to his cabin where Martha was dozing. She woke at his step. “Didn’t Itell you not to hu’y back hyeah?’’ she asked. “I ain’t nevah hu’ien. I reckon I gin ’em all de music dey wanted,’’ Ben answer- ed a little sheepishly. He knew that he had not exactly covered himself with glory. ‘‘How’s you feelin’?’’ he added. * ‘‘ Bout the same. I got kin, of a mis’y in my side.” “I reckon you couldn’t jine in de hymn to tek de wickedness outen dis banjo?’ He looked anxiously at her. “I don’t know ’bout j’inin’ in, but you go ’long an’ play anyhow. EfI feel lak journeyin’ wid you I fin’ you somewhar on de road.” The banjo began to sing, and when the hymn was half through Martha’s voice,not so strong and full as usual, but trembling with a new pathos, joined in and went on to the end. Then Ben put up his banjo and went to his rest. The next day Martha was no better, and the same the next. Her mistress came down to see her, and delegated one of the other servants to be with her throught the day and to get Ben’s meals. The old man himself was her close attendant in the evenings, and he waited on her with the tenderness of a woman. He varied his (u- ties as nurse by playing to her, sometimes some lively, cheerful bit, but more often the hymns she loved but was too weak to follow. * It gave him an aching pleasure at his heart to see how she hung or his music. Tt seemed to have become her very life. He would play forno one else now, and his little space before his door held his audience of white and black children no more. They still came, but the cabin door was inhospi- tably shut, and they went away whispe:- ing among themselves, ‘‘Aunt Martha's sick.” Little Liz, who was a very wise pickan- inny. once added, ‘‘Yes, Aunt Marfy,s sick an’ my mammy says she ain’ gwine to git up no mo’.” Another child had echoed “Never!” in the hushed, awe-struck tones which children use in the presence of the great mystery. Liz’s mother was right. Ben’s Martha was never to get up again. One night dur- ing a pause in his playing she whispered, “Play Ha’k F’om de Tomb.’”” He turned into the hymn, and her voice quivering and weak, joined in. Ben started for she had not tried to sing for so long. He wondered if it wasn’t a token. In the midst of the hymn she stopped, but he played on to the end of the verse. Then he got up and look- ed at her. Her eyes were closed. and there wasa smile on her face—a smile that Ben knew was not of earth. He called her but she did not answer. He put his hand upon her head, but she lay very still, and then he knelt and buried his head in the bedclothes, giving himself up to all the tragic violence of an old man’s grief. ‘“Marfy! Marfy! Marfy!’ he called. “What you want to leave me fu’? Marfy wait; I ain’t gwine be long.” His cries aroused the quarters, and the neighbors came flocking in. Ben was hustl- ed out of the way, the news carried to the big house, and preparations made for the burying. Ben took his banjo. He looked at it fond- ly, patted it, and placing it in its covering, put it on the highest shelf in the cabin. ‘‘Brothah Ben allus was a mos’ p’opah an’ ’sponsible so’t 0’ man, ’’ said Liz’s moth- er as she saw him do it. ‘‘Now dat’s what I call showin’ ’spec’ to Sis Marfy, puttin’ his banjo up in de very place whah it'll get all dus’. Brothah Ben sho is diff’ent f’om any hnsband I evah had.”” She had just provided Liz with a third stepfather. x On many evenings after Martha had been laid away, the children, seeing Ben come and sit beside his cabin door, would gather around, waiting, and hoping that the banjo would be brought out, but they were alwaysdoomed to disappointment. On the high shelf the old banjo still reposed, gath- ering dust. Finally one of the youngsters, holder than the rest, spoke: ‘‘Ain’t you gwine play no mo’, Uucle Ben?’’ and received a sad shake of the head in reply, and a lacon- ic ‘“Nope.”’ This remark Liz dutifully reported to her mother. ‘No’ o’ co’se not,’’ said that wise woman with emphasis: ‘‘0’ co’se Brothah Ben ain’ gwine play no mo’; not right now, leas’ ways; an’ don’ you go dah pesterin’ him, nuther Liz. You he per- litean’ ’spectable to him, an’ make yo’ ’bejunce when you pass.”’ The child’s wise mother had just dispens- ed with her last stepfather. The children were not the only ones who attempted to draw old Ben back to his music. Even his master had a word of protest. ‘‘I tell you, Ben, we miss your bauvjo,’’ he said. ‘‘I wish you would come up and play for us sometime.’’ “I'd lak to Mastah, I’d lak to; but evah time I think erbout playin’ I kin des see huh up dar an’ hyeah de kin’ o’ musicshe’s a-listenin’ to, an’ I ain’t got no haht fu’ dat ol’ banjo no mo’.”’ The old man looked up at his master so pitifully that the young man desisted. ‘Oh, never mind,’’ he said, “if you feel that way about it.”’ " As soon as it became known that the master wanted to hear the oid banjo again, every negro on the plantation was urging the old man to play in order to say that his persuasion had given the master pleas- ure. None, though, went to the old man’s cabin with such confidence of success as did Mary, the mother of Liz. “Q’ co’se, he wa’n’t gwine play den,” she said as she adjusted a ribbon; *‘he was a mo’nin’; but now—hit’s diffe’nt,’’ and she smiled back at herself in the piece of broken mirror. She sighed very tactfully as she settled herself on old Ben’s doorstep. “I nevah come ’long hyeah,’’ she said, ‘‘widout thinkin’ ’bout Sis Marfy. Me an’ huh was gret frien’s, an’ a moughty good frien’ she was.’’ Ben shook his head affirmatively. Mary smoothed her ribbons and continued: “I ust to of’en come an’ set in my do’ w’en you’d be a-playin’ to huh. I was des’ sayin’ to myse’f de othah day how I would lak to hyeah dat ol’ banjo ag’in.”” She paused. ‘Pears lak Sis Marfy ’d be right nigh.”’ Ben said nothing. She leaned over un- til her warm hrown cheek touched his knee. ‘‘Won’t you play fu’ me, Brothah Ben?’ she asked pleadingly. ‘‘Des’ to bring back de membry o’ Sis Marfy.”’ The old man turned two angry eyes up- on her. ‘I don’ need to play,’’ he said, “an” I ain’ gwineter. Sis Marfy’s mem- bry’s hyeah,’”” and tapping his breast he walked into his cabin, leaving Mary to take her leave as best she could. * It was several months after this that a party of young people came from the North to visit the young master, Robert Curtis. It was on the second evening of their stay that young Eldridge said: ‘‘Look here, Mr. Curtis, my father visited your plantation years ago, and he told me of a wonderful banjoist you had, and said if I ever came here to be sure to hear him if he was alive. Is he?” ‘You mean old Ben. Yes, he’s still liv- ing, but the death of his wife rather sent him daft, and he hasn’t played for several years.’’ ‘Pshaw, I'msorry. We laughed at father’s enthusiasm over him, because we thought that he overrated his powers.” “I reckon not. He was truly wonder- -ful.”? “Don’t you think you can stir him up?”’ “Oh, do, Mr. Curtis,”” chorused a num- ber of voices. “Well, Idon’t know,’ ’said Robert, ‘‘but come with me and I'll try.” The young people took their way to the cabin, where old Ben occupied his accus- tomed place before the door. “Uncle Ben, ’said Robert, ‘‘here are some friends of mine from the North who are anxious to hear you play, and I knew you’d break your rule for me.”’ ‘Chile, honey——’’ began the old man. But Robert interrupted him. ‘I’m not going to let you say no,”’ and he hurried past Uncle Ben into the cabin. He came out brushing the banjo and saying, ‘‘ Whew the dust!” The old man sat dazed as the instrument was thrust into his hand. He looked piti- fully into the faces about him, but they were all expectancy. Then his fingers wandered to the neck and he tuned the old banjo. Then he began to play. He seem- ed inspired. His listeners stood transfixed. From piece to piece he glided, pouring out the music in a silver stream. His old fingers seemed to have forgotten their stiff- ness as they flew over the familiar strings. For nearly an hour he played and then ab- ruptly stopped. The applause was gener- ous and real, but the old man only smiled sadly, and witha far-away look in his eyes. As they turned away, somewhat awed by his manner, they heard him begin to play softly an old hymn. It was Hark! From the Tomb. He stopped when but half way through, and Robert returned to ask him to finish, but his head had fallen forward close against the banjo’s neck, and there was a smile on his face, as if he had suddenly had a sweet memory of Martha.— By Paul Lau- rence Dunbar. Unprovoked Murder. Liza Weissenberger, Aged 13, Killed by S. 8. Snell, Aged 45. Head Almost Severed from Body. The Child’s Mother Was Also Badly Slashed With the Weapon Which Ended Her Little Daughter's Young Life, Murderer Afterwards Arrested. A horrible murder was committed in Washington, D.C. Sunday, in the northern section of the city. The murderer was Ben- jamin H. Snell, a special examiner in the pension office, a man about forty-five years of age. His victim was Liza Weis- senberger, a girl 13 years of age, who had been employed in his household until a few months ago when she was taken home hy her parents who became suspicious of Snell’s conduct towards her. Snell seemed to be infatuated with the child and paid her a great deal of attention, which, how- ever, she resented. This morning Snell went to his victim’s house and entering at the front door passed on through the mid- dle room, where the girl was sleeping, to the dining room door. While standing at the door, the mother ordered him out of the house. Snell started to go, passing again through the room where the child was. He bent over the sleeping child and drew her from the bed. Awakened suddenly she seream- ed in terror. Twisting one hand in the girl’s hair and throwing back her head, Snell drew a razor from his pocket and swept it twice across her throat. The head was almost severed from the body and both the murderer and his victim were drenched with blood. Attracted by the girl’s screams, the mother ran to the rescue. In a frenzy she grapled with the murderer and was bad- ly slashed on the arm with the razor. The murderer attempted to escape, but was soon captured by the police and locked up in the Ninth precinct station. He refuses to give any explanation of his acts and says he remembers nothing about them. The murderer is a native of Vermont and was at one time employed in a bank in Montgom- ery, Ala. He has a wife and two child- ren. Over Three Thousand Miners on a Strike. Many Men Already Out in the Anthracite Regions and Others are Likely to Follow—Various Grievances are Being Aired by the Men. There are 3,500 miners on strike now throughout the anthracite region, and more are likely to go out at any time. At pres- ent the strikers are from several mines, and the men at each mine are striking for in- dividual reasons, but they are all closely allied. The chief cause is the topping re- quired on thecars by the various compavies and the docking system, which the men claim is most unfair, and by which they lose credit for a large amount of work. It was the order of the Susquehanna coal company for 16 inches topping on the cars when they left the breasts, and six inches when they reached the breaker, that sent out 2,000 men, and they are going to stay out until the company agrees to compromise on six inches when the cars leave the breasts. - At the Keystone mine 600 men want in- creased pay, reduced topping and fair dock- ing. At the Exeter, West Pittston, they desire more pay and a revision of the dock- ing system. At the Babylon, in Duryea, 500 men are out for the same reason, and at several other mines the men have sent in grievances. They are willing to go out until they get their requests granted. Pimple Caused Her Death. Miss Bessie Delaney, of Homestead, Contracts Blood Poisoning and Died in Kittanning. A small pimple was responsible for the death of Miss Bessie DeLaney, of Home- stead. She expired at the home of friends in Kittanning, Saturday. The pimple ap- peared on the end of her nose a couple of days ago. Miss DeLaney scratched it with her finger nails. Thursday she became vio- lently ill. Blood poisoning set in and in 24 hours she died. Miss DeLaney was one of the most popu- lar young women of Homestead. She was a daughter of Thomas DeLaney, of that town, and had gone to Kittanning but a short time ago on a pleasure trip. She was in the best of health. Miss DeLaney was well-known among the trained nurses of Pittshurg. She was a graduate of the school of the West Penn hospital, completing her course in the class of 98. She was 25 years old. The remains were taken to Huntingdon for interment. Impaled By a Board. William Blaine, a freight engine fireman, running on the Pittsburg and Western railroad, was leaning out of the ‘cab window of his engine last Saturday night, when his train met a freight train coming to- wards him. The other train had a car loaded with lumber. A loose board pro- jected over the side of the car and the end struck Blaine fairly in the chest. Both trains were moving at the time. The board pierced Blaine’s body six inches and then broke off, leaving two feet of the board projecting. Trainmen found it impossible to draw out the board and one of them undertook to saw it off close to Blaine’s chest. Under this awful operation Blaine died. " Much force had to be used to pull the board out of the dead hody. Sightseers Plunged to a Watery Death. Two Hundred Excursionists Precipitated from a Pier at Mt. Desert Ferry, Me., by 1he Collapse of a Dock. Nineteen Bodies Have been Recovered. The slip at Mt. Desert ferry, at Bar Har- bor, Me., which connects the Maine Central railroad with Bar Harbor, when filled with a great crowd of excursionists on Sunday, the 6th, broke suddenly and precipitated over 200 people into the deep water below the pier head. At a late hour Sunday night 19 bodies had heen recovered and the Hotel Bluffs is filled with 50 or more of the injured. The accident is the most appalling and grew- some that has occurred in the State of Maine in many years. A DOZEN EXCURSIONS. The arrival of the big warships of the North Atlantic squadron caused the gather- ing of the crowd. A dozen excursions brought great crowds from the interior and up country districts. The total of persons who came reached close to 5,000. Most of the visitors were from Bangor, Bucksport, Brewster, Ellsworth, Orono, Nacock and the many small towns that line the East division. The terminus of the Maine Central is the Mount Desert Ferry, and a line of steam- boats connect with Bar Harbor, distant about eight miles. When the train which was the first of four excursions over this road reached the wharf it was learned that the Sappho, the largest of the steamers which had been delegated to carry the peo- ple to Bar Harbor, could accommodate about one-third of the entire number. This news spread and the many who wished to cross first started on a rush for the slip. The Sappho lay at the foot of the first slip i under the train shed and within a hundred | feet of the train. TRIED TO PREVENT CRUSH. The slip, which is about 35 feet long and 10 feet wide, is bailt of hickory beams 3 inches thick and a foot deep. Covering this is a planking of one-inch pine boards, and as a final support all three one-inch iron girders running the entire length. A narrow gang plank connects with the boat. The officials at the ferry realized that the crush at the landing would be great and extra precaution was taken to prevent the crowd from collecting. Four men were placed at the entrance to theslip, but their efforts were unavailing. The four were swept aside. The passageway became blocked and scores of the more agile were swarming over from the wharf over the sides of the steamer. The crowd had become dense and in a few moments the slip which runs down at an angle of about 25 degrees held over two hundred people. Behind them were sev- eral hundred more pushing and crowding. With no warning there was a loud report, and the next instant those who gained the Sappho turned to see the long slip part in the middle and the struggling hundreds fighting and clawing with one another dis- appear into the water about the piles. Loud shrieks and curses rent the air. Wails from the women and children min- gled with the hoarse shouts of the men. People went mad with fear; back in the crowd still safe upon the wharf men struck out right and left, fighting their way from the terrible sight. In their excitement a few men, endeavoring to assist the drown- ing, threw into the water whatever they could lay their hands upon. Some heavy lumber that was cast down struck numbers upon the head, stunning them. For the moment sensible attempts at rescue were forgotten. Then Captain Dixon, of the Sappho, and Frederic San- born, of Portland,organized a rescue party. Ropes, ladders and arms were pulling out; the terrified men and women. A few brave fellows stripped and plunged in to the as- sistance of weaker, but their attempts were unavailing and dangerous, for the drown- ing ones clutched at them and endeavored to pull them down. Soon scores of men were engaged in the work of rescue, and as the wet and bedraggled ones were fished out they were carried to the hotel on the bluffs overlooking the scene of the acci- dent. For ten minutes the work of saving went on, and that space was filled with many heroicdeeds. One young hoy,named George Mattox, of Bangor, saved a deaf and dumb mute, Howard Gill, whom he had induced to run away and join the excursion without his mother’s knowledge. Mr. Mason, chief of the Bangor fire de- partment, was on the landing stage with his wife when it broke. He is nearly sev- enty years old, but saved his wife. Cap- tain Dixon and Sanborn held a ladder into the water, up which over seventy people climbed. SEVERAL WOMEN SAVED. Dr. Frank Whitcomb saved several wom- en and A. I. Greenough swam to the assis- tance of more than a dozen people whom he succeeded in saving. He was last to leave the water. During the excitement of this work of rescue several women were prevented from casting themselvee into the water. Some heartrending scenes were witnessed, and at last every survivor had been taken from the water. The work of securing the bodies of the drowned was begun. The freight house across the railroad track was opened and on the floor of it the bodies as they were brought up were placed for identification. Oune of the government divers was secured and this accelerated the work. Before even- ing twenty bodies were taken up. Upon many were deep cuts and bruises received in frantic struggles. At the hotel where the injured and half drowned had been carried fifteen doctors at- tended to the wounded. Guests of the ho- tel gave up all their rooms. Of those rescu- ed only one is likely to die. He is George S. Southard, of Bangor. So frightful were the kicks and blows that he received that it is doubtful if he can recover. Bar Harbor at the time was filled with four or five thousand excursionists, who had come up by boat, and every one was clamoring to be taken across the ferry. Very soon the town was deserted and a great crowd had gathered at the scene of the disaster, after three hours of work the diver ceased and the list of the dead was taken. Franklin A Wilson, president of the Maine Central Road, said at his summer home in Bar Harbor: ‘‘There is nothing to say except that the affair was terrible and most deplorable. I attributed the cause of the accident to the undue strain placed up- on the beams by the great crowd. Every- thing will be done for the injured, but un- til I have heard from the various heads of the company I can say nothing.”’ The accident has caused a profound sen- sation in this part of Maine, and will keep many visitors away during the stay of the warships. The bodies of the dead were shipped to the various towns where they belong. ——Ex-Governor Hogg, of Texas, wears a 22-inch collar, always shows a great ex- panse of shirt-front and always wears a frock coat. Thirty-Six Dead! Terrible Trolley Accident Near Bridgeport, Conn.— Car Went Off the Trestle.—It is Supposed There Were Forty Persons on Board.—Indicator Spirited Away. Nearly forty persons were killed by an accident on the Stratford extension of the Shelton street railway company at 4 o’clock Sunday afternoon when a loaded trolley car went off the trestle over Peck’s mill pond at Oroncque. about six miles north of Bridgeport, Conn., and sank in the flats forty feet below. Thus far thirty-six peo- ple are known to be dead and several more injured. The identified dead are: Joseph Hotch- kiss, Bridgeport, engineer fire department; Henry C. Cogswell, Bridgeport, aged 60, employe of New York, New Haven and Hartford railroad and member of board of education; Orlando B. Wells, aged 63, Shoemaker; Selectman Elias E. Brandley and wife, Milford; William Osborn, Strat- ford; Daniel Galvin, Ansonia; Conductor John Carroll, Bridgeport; S. Banks, Shel- ton; Mrs. McDonald, Bridgeton; Winton Lanther, motorman, Bridgeport; Bessie Toomey, 22, Bridgeport; William H. Har- vey, 37, Bridgeport; Mrs. J. H. Rugg, Stratford; Mrs. Frank Blew and two chil- dren, a boy and girl, aged 5, Stratford; William McCullough, Stratford; Thomas McNally, 30; Peter Ring, 28; Patrick Me- Dermitt, 50; Frank Kraft, 25; Mrs. Pat- rick Brennan, aged 50; Alfred Pitt, 22; William Crotter, 25; Irving Doruz, William Harvey, all of Bridgeport. Some eight or ten others are seriously injured. Only two persons are known to have es- caped unbarmed. It is believed that there were forty-three passengers on the car, but the indicator was removed by a conductor of another car and spirited away so that at present it is impossible to state accurately the number aboard. The scene of the accident is midway be- tween Shelton and Bridgeport. The car was north bound, running toward Shelton. It was in charge of Conductor John Carroll of Bridgeport, who was amoung the killed, and Motorman Hamilton, of Bridgeport, who escaped by jumping. The trestle is 440 feet long, made of iron with stone foundations and was not pro- tected by rail guards. South of the trestle is an incline down which the car ran at a high rate of speed. After it ran on to the trestle for about ten feet the trucks left the rails, and then the car continued on the ties for about seventy-five feet, when it went off the trestle and dropped into the pond below, overturning completely and up-ended. When the car struck, the four ton motor and the heavy trucks crashed into it, instantly killing many of the passengers. Three physicians, who were passengers on the car a short distance be- hind, arrived quickly on the scene and rendered all possible assistance to the in- jured. Word was sent to Bridgeport and three ambulances and a police wagon were hurried to the scene and the injured were taken to Bridgeport general hospital. A morgue was improvised in the main room of the town hall at Stratford and in a very short time twenty-three bodies were laid out awaiting identification. The accident was witnessed by Miss Francis Peck, who resides about 400 feet from the bridge. She was upstairs at her home as the car was passing, and she says that the car was running at an unusually fast rate. Frank Cramer, who: was bathing near the bridge, states that the passengers were all singing and in the most joyful mood as they passed him. The road, which is practically controlled by the Bridgeport Traction company, was opened for traffic last Thursday. Nearly the entire medical force of Bridgeport responded to telephone calls sent in, but when the doctors arrived they were unable to render much assistance, so few passengers escaped instant death. The car, after up-ending, soon settled over on its side and there was little difficulty in re- moving the bodies of the dead as well as assisting the wounded. Motorman Hamilton is suffering from such a severe shock thatit was impossible to learn anything from him. Pres- ident Andrew Radell, of the railway com- pany, stated that it was impossible for him to account for the accident. Immediately after his arrival at the scene he made a thorough inspection of the tracks on the trestle and could see nothing wrong, and cars were running over the trestle as usual afterwards. He denied that the cars were running at a high rate of speed and claim- ed that every possible precaution had been taken to prevent accident. One theory ad- vanced is that faulty construction was re- sponsible for the accident. At the point where the cars leave the road for the trestle it is alleged that the rails bad sunk a little and though the forward trucks took the rails all right the rear trucks did not connect and jnmped the track, which caused the forward trucks to leave the iron. It is be- lieved that if proper guard rails had been placed on the trestle the car would have been prevented from toppling over. Killed on Hotel Steps. Jacob Rhone Fatallg Beaten by Edward Boggs at Chambersburg. As the result of an altercation in front of the Hotel Montgomery at Chambersburg, Saturday evening, Jacob Rhoneis dead and Edward Boggs, a hostler,of that place, is in the county prison to answer a charge of murder. Rhone lived at Fiddler’s Green, Greene township, and came here that after- noon with some friends. The two men had been drinking and became involved in a quarrel. They were separated, and it seemed as though their differences were at an end. Rhone went into the hotel. A few minutes later he took his stand on the stone step and while there Boggs eame by. As to what happened between the two men the stories differ. An eye witness says Boggs walked up to Rhone, and with- out a word struck him on the left eye. He followed the first blow up with a second on the left jaw, then he walked away. Rhone staggered and fell heavily in the hallway of the hotel. He got up, walked to the door and pitched forward on the pave- ment. Bystanders saw him gasping for breath and carried him into the hotel. Physicians were summoned, but their ef- forts to resuscitate the injured man were futile, and he died in a few minutes after being taken to the hotel. Boggs was arrested a square further down the street. He did not know of Rhone’s death. At police headquarters he said that while passing the hotel Rhone slapped him on the cheek. Boggs told him he didn’t “like that sort of thing.”” Boggs says Rhone drew back to hit him again. Then Boggs says he struck Rhone once and walked away. Upon the advice of district attorney Hoke Boggs was placed in jail. Coroner L. F. Suesserott held an autopsy and inquest. The jury rendered a ver- dict that Rhone had come to his death as the result of blows inflicted by Edward Boggs. Jealous Husband Kills Wife and Him- self. A teamster named John Schlenberg, of Cleveland, O., shot hiz wife four times Saturday. at the Woodland hotel, and then sent a bullet through his heart. The woman died an hour later at St. Alexis’ hospital. The tragedy was prompt- ed by jealousy. Caused Twenty-one Deaths While Insane. At the meeting of the trustees of the hosptial of the insane, the death of Joseph Nadine, an inmate of the Norristown in- sane asylum from Philadelphia, was report- ed. Nadine died on July 21st of consump- tion. In 1885, while a raving lunatic, he set fire to the Philadelphia county almshouse, and in the destruction twenty-one people met death. Fears of a Small Pox Epidemie. Before many months it is considered likely that the state board of health will be compelled to ask for more money to put down small pox in the districts where it has already appeared. Instead of the con- ditions becoming better they are in a num- ber of localities growing worse. Two new cases have heen reported to the board from Altoona and in several of the mountain districts the disease is at least not show- ing signs of subjection. There is fear of a spread with the coming of cold weather. Astor Burned in Effigy. Surrounded by a crowd of several hun- dred persons William Waldorf Astor was burned in effigy Friday night in Langacre square, New York, Dr. Seldon Crowe, an elderly physician, being the prime mover in the affair, Dr. Crowe has been much in- terested in the reports of Mr. Astor’s dec- laration of allegiance to Queen Victoria, and the more he read the more indignant he grew. Friday night he went through the ‘Tenderloin’ and invited about 30 men to call at his residence. He promised each man a $2 bill, and had little trouble in getting recruits. A truck was secured and Dr. Crowe brought out an effizy of Mr. Astor. It was almost perfect in appearance. The figure was tied in a rocking chair. It was hoisted into the wagon. An oil saturated barrel was put in with it,and several quarts of kerosene. High on a pole in the wagon was a sigh bearing the inscription, in great black letters: ‘‘Astor, the Traitor.”’ A unique parade through the hotel and theatrical district followed. When Dr. Crowe stopped in front of the leading hotels he was politely requested to move by the police, but no attempt was made to arrest him. But he was not allowed to carry out his plan of burning the Astor effigy in Greely square. At Langacre square the effigy was placed on top of a barrel, kerosene in liberal quantities was applied and the doctor applied the match. The pile blazed fiercely. The spectators cheered and loudly called on Dr. Crowe to make a speech. Dr. Crowe bitterly at- tacked Mr. Astor, but his speech was in- terrupted by a report that the police were coming, and the speaker mysteriously dis- appeared. Neighbor to a Chief Justice. A family named Murray took up their residence very near that of Chief Justice Marshall. Both Mr. and Mrs. Murray had labored industriously but unsuccessfully 0 gain an entrance to the inner circle of the more exclusive set in society. They were rather coarse in manner, fond of dis- playing the evidences of a lavish wealth, were aggressive and domineering in their intercourse with menials and cringing and obsequious toward persons of social or pro- fessional distinction. One cold, winter day Judge Marshall, in his shabby old great- coat, and with his gray cloth cap turned down over his ears, was standing in the market house at a little distance from a poulterer’s stand, gazing in an abstracted fashion at the display, while Mr. and Mrs. Murray were purchasing a huge turkey. Murray observing the old man nearby, beckoned to him, handed him a card, and said: ‘Here, my man, take this turkey to that address. Here's a shilling for you. Now, hurry along!” The Judge took the turkey and the shilling and walked to the front door of the house, where he said to the footman: “Say to Mr. Murray that Chief Justice Marshall, as a neighborly act, brought his turkey home for him, and that he declines to take any pay for it,’’ and he turned both shilling and turkey over to the as- tonished servant. Mr. and Mrs. Murray hastened to call for the purpose of apologizing, but failed to secure an interview, and a long letter of explanation received no attention what- ever from the Judge. Poison in Emetics. Harmless Druqs are Deadly When Mixed With Proper Ones. It is a long-established fact in toxicology that certain drugs that are harmless when taken regularly into the system in small quantities have deadly consequences when their use suddenly is discontinued. When, for instance, a person has been addicted for a long period to the practice of arsenic eat- ing the sudden and complete deprivation of the drug will cause death from arsenical poisoning. Last week, however, a still more re- markable thing happened in England. A man entered a wayside inn and was sup- plied with a mug of beer. The inn keeper saw him empty into the liquor the con- tents of a small white paper packet, and, suspecting an attempt at suicide, tried to stop him from drinking the mixture. The man laughed, however, and said it was on- ly an emetic he had taken, as something had disagreed with him. The inn keeper was by no means reassured either by the man’s statement or by his manner, and, unwilling to risk a tragedy on his premises, he sent for a policeman. An examination of the white paper packet confirmed in the constable’s opinion the landlord’s theory of suicide; and by way of being at any rate on the safe side they forced the man, de- spite his protests, to swallow a strong solu- tion of common salt, the policeman’s ‘first aid, experience having made him aware that that is an excellent emetic for use in an emergency. To their unspeakable consternation the man died; and the post mortem examina- tion revealed the extraordinary fact that it was the salt and water that had killed him. The white paper packet which the man had emptied into his beer had contained sul- phate of zine, which, by itself, would have done him no harm. The salt and water, unfortunately, converted the innocuous sulphate into the deadly chloride of zinc, and thus brought about the luckless man’s death.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers