Decoration Day

The Marietta Register, May 27, 1869

By Lieut. Col. John J. Nevin

"The 30th of May is hereby designated for the purpose of strewing with flowers the graves of our comrades who died in defence of their country, with the hope that it will be observed from year to year by all the people." - Extract from Gen. Logan's Order No. 11, Headquarters G.A.R., May 5, 1868.

I.

 Let us gather to the ground,

Our soldiers' graves around,

And strew each lonely mound

With the choicest flowers of spring;

And the spirits of the brave,

O'er the land they died to save,

Shall keep watch while we these offerings bring,

And when we forget their valor

Gave our liberty new birth,

May their ungrateful country

Perish from the face of earth.

CHORUS.

We'll gather to the ground,

Our soldiers graves around,

And deck each lonely mound

With the fairest flower o'er,

And the land they died to save

Still shall honor thus her brave,

And forget them never more.

II.

Oh then, on bended knee,

Let us mingle silently

The pale anemone

And the dark blue violet,

And the fragrant flow'rs of May,

With forget-me-nots and bay,

And garlands of spring beauties wet;

And their pure breath shall ascend,

Like a prayer, like a prayer,

That our land may find hearts as true,

As those that moulder there.

III.

And year by year we'll come,

When the flowers are in bloom,

And we'll deck each hero's tomb

On this "Decoration Day";

Till all the South and North

Shall link it with the Fourth,

Twin holidays and holy days for aye;

Yes the Fourth and this new May day

Through all the coming years;

That we'll keep with loyal glee,

But this with patriot tears.

Fourth of July 1875

The Marietta Register, July 1, 1875

Mayor's Proclamation.

In view of the near approach of the Fourth, the attention of the inhabitants of the city is called to the following section of an ordinance of the city, passed December 4th, 1874.

Section 6.  Any person who shall discharge any cannon, musket, fowling piece or other firearms, or fire any squib, cracker or other fireworks of whatever description on the streets, alleys or public places of said city, shall be fined for each offense, upon conviction thereof, in any sum not less than one nor more than fifty dollars; and any person who shall fire any such cannon, or firearms, or fire any such squib, cracker or fireworks, at any place other than a street, alley or other public place in said city, whereby any person shall be annoyed or disturbed, shall be fined on conviction thereof, in any sum not exceeding ten dollars.

It will be observed that the ordinance forbids the sport upon all days of the year, except as therein provided.

This may seem to the boys a severe measure, but when it is remembered that millions of dollars worth of property, and many valuable lives are annually destroyed by this kind of fun it ought to be a sufficient explanation of the necessity for such a law.

Jewett Palmer,
Mayor, City Marietta.

*     *     *     *     *

The Marietta Register, July 15, 1875

Fourth of July in Marietta, 1875

               Not a bell was rang,
               Not a bell dare toll,
Not a cracker was heard a-popping;
               Not a gun was fired,
               Not a cannon roared,
Or "Palmer" would come a-hopping.

               Not a candle went up
               With its streaming light,
No torpedo was heard a-snapping;
               Not a rocket was seen
               In the sky serene,
For Palmer was not to be caught napping.

               Not a boy dare shout,
               Or whistle a tune,
Or give his grandma any "sauce;"
               Not a kite was seen
               Flying high on its string.
Well, our Fourth of July was a farce.

Subscriber.

Death of Isaac Lackey

The Marietta Times, May 6, 1869

In Marietta, April 22, at the residence of his daughter, Mrs. Abenaid Mann, of old age, Isaac Lackey, aged 92 years and 7 months.

Let me go, my soul is weary
     Of the chains which bind it here;
Let my spirit bend it pinions
     To a brighter, holier sphere.
Earth, 'tis true, hath friends who bless me
     With their fond and faithful love,
But the hands of angels beckon
     Onward to the realms above.

Let me go, for earth hath sorrow,
     Sin, and pain, and bitter tears;
All its paths are dark and dreary,
     All its hopes are fraught with tears;
Short lived are its brightest flowers,
     Soon its cherished joys decay,
Let me go, I fain would leave it
     For the realms of endless day.

Let me go, my heart hath tasted
     Of my Saviour's wondrous grace;
Let me go, where I shall ever
     See and know Him face to face;
Let me go, the tree of heaven
     Rise before me waving bright,
And the distant crystal waters
     Flash upon my raptured sight.

Let me go, for songs seraphic
     Now seem calling from the sky;
'Tis the welcome of the angels
     Which e'en now are hovering nigh;
Let me go, they wait to bear me
     To the mansions of the blest,
Where the spirit worn and weary
     Finds at last its long-sought rest.

Bartlett

The Register-Leader, March 8, 1912

A Washington County Village in Rhyme, Written by a School Boy.

Did you ever in your life go strolling,
In the eve when your work was o'er,
When you knew there'd be something doing
On the corner by the store?

There is George and Bill and Reuben
On a store box sticking round;
And Sambo, Put and Emmor
To represent the town.

Then there's Nubbins, Slats and Sivers,
All generous and strong,
With their various selection
Of parodies and songs.

And there'll be Colonel Pattin
Of Oklahoma fame,
Who lives on Capitol avenue,
In the cottage by the lane.

And if perchance you walk along
To the office just next door,
You'll find our old friend, Kirby,
A man we all adore.

He looks the letters over
While we wait 'mid ache and sigh,
And then the excitement's over
Except the passers-by.

Next comes Charles E. Vincent,
The barber, tall and lank,
Who never to himself hath said:
"This is the Bartlett Bank."

Now don't forget 'bout Miller.
He owns the beefsteak store,
And runs the Arkansas Express
As 'twas never run before.

We next can speak of Maley,
Of whom we almost shout
As being 'bout the finest man
There ever was about.

And when the snow is flying
And all are chilled with ills,
We have E. A. Ross and Moody
To administer the pills.

Then just across the public square,
Apart from all the rest,
Stands the store of M. L. Perkins
Where we always get the best.

And there's the old "Coon Tavern,"
U. B. Church and public well,
And Putnam Phipps across the way
With pork and beef to sell.

The jewelry shop looms up, next door,
And fronts on old Broadway,
Where good old I. A. Morrow
Sells goggles day by day.

The old brick mansion still remains,
Of Morrow, Mills and Son.
It still remains the office
Although 'tis settling some.

Then there's the old phone office.
It's changed, and changed, and changed.
And now there's no use loafing, boys,
'Cause you can't get entertained.

And then we have a new feed mill
Of the twentieth century type;
But it's nothing like the old one
That stood down on the pike.

The blacksmith shop, you'll all agree,
We couldn't do without.
For Jim is always on the job
And you never need to doubt.

The old town hall still stands alone,
Just a little up the way.
But there's never much a-doing
Except on election day.

The church, in solitude, stands near,
Loved by young and old,
Who delight to hear the teachings
Of the Bible often told.

Then there's the old school building,
That stands upon the hill,
And gazes down upon the town
With features cold and still.

The girls and boys all gather 'round;
Of its knowledge some partake,
While some, perhaps, remain to laugh
And others fools to make.

There's Mr. Dunn, the teacher.
He's filling Shinn's old place,
And everybody likes him;
We think he's simply great.

I almost forgot about Cummings,
Hobson, Williams, Beazell, too.
There're all the finest fellows
That the country ever knew.

There's Cummings, famed for painting.
William, an oil man through and through.
And Hebson is a baseball fan
Of the McGillicuddy school.

And Beazell, dear old Uncle John,
Honest, grand and tall,
Known throughout the country
As the "Father of Baseball."

Song - To the Muskingum

For the Marietta Intelligencer, January 4, 1844

To the Muskingum
                  Tune - Flow Gently Sweet Afton

Roll, gently, Muskingum, thy low banks along!
Sing softly, sweet Elk-Eye, thy own choral song!
I hear the blue wave of thy bright chrystal stream,
It sounds like the music we hear in a dream.

The Lark on thy banks, tunes his shrill matin lay,
In accents so gladsome, so sportive and gay.
The Mountains thy echoing murmurs repeat.
In cadence, so soothing, so chastened, and sweet.

How oft do I roam 'neath the shade on thy shore,
Whose long evening shadows have pictured thee o'er;
And thrill'd with thy beauty, thy borders of green,
Where glimpses of Heaven, through green boughs are seen.

I watch on thy margin, thy shade trees among,
Thy blue wave in majesty rolling along.
Hear, mild whistling warblers, attune their last lay,
In requiem notes to the Lord of the day.

And think of the Ages - the year upon year,
When none but the Red Man & fleet bounding deer,
Knew aught of the charms which thy bosom contains,
Or the green leafy copses which mantled thy plains.

When thy smooth flowing current, no rippling ee'r knew,
From aught but the winds, and the fragile canoe,
When no lengthened bulwarks thy windings impede,
Through pathways untrodden, thy waters to lead.

Whose rampart of hills & whose shores forest crown'd,
Had, yet by no venturous woodman been found,
Whose Trunk-trellised tops & whose columns of old,
Might, Legends- time-honor'd, & hallow'd have told.

But thy shades song-resounding - where, where are they now?
Their green plumes majestic have long ceased to bow,
And the waves of gold sheeting that burnished their leaves,
Now, gild where they once stood, the Husbandman's sheaves.

Those spirits, where are they whose voice with wild fear
Oft startled thy songsters and light sandal'd Deer?
Gone - gone are they all, scarce a vestige remains,
Of all that thou once deemed the pride of thy plains.

But thy landscapes appear in their verdure extoll'd,
With their mantles of velvet, and blossoms of gold,
Though in majesty less - yet their beauty transcends,
The sombre enchantment thy forest shade lends.

Thou gem amongst Rivers, -roll on, and rejoice!
Whilst valley, and mountains, re-echo thy voice!
Exult, in the change that has snatch'd thee away
From the dark, lurid wilderness that over thee lay!

And embellished thy borders with cities and spires,
All, that commerce bespeaks, all that learning requires.
Adorned thee with Temples - and pathways well trod
By those who go up to the worship of God.

                                                      MORTIMER.

Mill-Stones

American Friend, February 18, 1820

Mill-Stones, O ye! the refiners of grain,
Roll from my quarry again - and again.
Fashion'd by A. Wolf, of skillful pow'r,
And certain to yield the best of flour.
Contrasted with which, Laurel Hill, Raccoon,
Shew vain as to phiz of man a baboon.
Situate 'tween Duck Creek and Muskingum;
From Marietta ten miles, on New year's run.
Cheap - lasting - tenaceous - flinty - whole;
None better t'insure the miller his toll.
Enquiries are answer'd (if free postage)
By me, your obseq'ious - Edward P. Page.
O what a bother to fumble for rhyme;
Hard, as mill-dam roar with music to chime.

Marietta, Feb. 11th, 1820

John Greiner Song

The Marietta Times, May 20, 1869

The following original song was sung by Governor Greiner at a gathering of the Odd Fellows, in this place, on Wednesday night, 12th inst.:

Floating down the blue Muskingum,
     In the merry month of May;
Forests filled with sweetest music,
     Fields with flowers in bright array,
Coming all, with hearts as lightly
     As the dancing waters flow;
On the way to Marietta,
     On the river Ohio.

Nestling homesteads, blooming orchards,
     "Cattle on a thousand hills;"
Sparkling through the fragrant meadows,
     Murmuring brooks, and crystal rills;
Valley of the happy Elk-Eye,
     Richer landscapes who can show!
Journeying on to Marietta,
     On the river Ohio.

Odd Fellows of the Ancient Order
     Built the mystic Covered Way;
"Campus Martius," "Sacra Via,"
     Mounds and Plain, their skill display.
Good old fellows - funny fellows,
     Did a heap of work to show
Our Grand Lodge in Marietta,
     On the river Ohio.

Proudly thought the ancient builders
     Of these Mounds and Way and Plain,
Monuments of skill and labor
     Should forever here remain.
Vain! - for hands so sacrilegious,
     Clay upheaved so long ago,
Make the bricks for Marietta,
     On the river Ohio.

Now, strange fellows, queer good fellows,
     All Odd Fellows, here we see,
The White - the Pink - the Blue - the Green
     And the scarleted degree.
Boasting nigh four hundred Lodges,
     Thirty thousand members true,
All like these, in Marietta,
     On the river Ohio.

They feed the hungry, clothe the naked,
     Stand by those who stand in need;
Fear the Lord and love your neighbor,
     Is the true Odd Fellows' creed.
Aid the Daughters of Rebecca;
     Then, when you to Heaven will go,
You'll remember Marietta,
     On the river Ohio.

When our Order it shall govern,
     Men no more will be deceivin',
Wives no longer will be scolding,
     Odd Fellows will then be even.
Every maid shall have a sweetheart,
     Every widow have a beau,
And a home in Marietta,
     On the river Ohio.

Daughters of Rebecca, blooming,
     Brethren, they are something slow,
Don't get home till nearly midnight,
     Dearest Becky's - is that so?
Ridin' a goat is rather tiresome,
     Sad experience tells us so;
Prove it we can in Marietta,
     On the river Ohio!

Marietta Under Water

The Home News, April 21, 1860

The most extraordinary inundation with which Marietta has been visited since its settlement, came down upon us last week – extraordinary from its suddenness as well as from its apparent lack of cause; for all the rain that has fallen here from the beginning of April to the present time does not amount to 3 inches – a quantity altogether inadequate to make a rise of two feet in the Ohio.

On Monday morning, the 9th, the Muskingum began to swell; but nothing was thought of it. On Tuesday, both rivers rose rapidly, but as no rain had fallen here to justify a large rise, no danger was apprehended. On Wednesday morning the question was, not whether the water would come over the banks, but would it come into the stores and dwellings? The water rose all day at the rate of 8 or 9 inches an hour; and great was the rush of goods and chattels to the upper shelves and upper stories. Long before night no dry ground was left on the Point. Still higher came the aqueous element, and early in the evening it reached the floors of the stores and residences of that favored locality.

Thursday morning found it over three feet deep in our office, and still rising four inches an hour. At noon it slackened off to three inches and gradually lessened till Friday noon, when it came to a stand, the water being six feet and five inches in our store and office, nine to ten feet in the street in front of us, ten inches higher than the flood of April 22, 1852, and about three feet below the flood of February, 1832. Friday afternoon, the water commenced receding, and fell so rapidly that the “dry land” appeared on Sunday morning, and on Monday morning, both rivers had retired to their usual channels.

Saturday night was spent in following the retiring flood from our stores and dwellings with broom and brush, thus preventing an unwelcome deposit of an inch or two of the purest mud. This labor of necessity occupied most of Sunday, which appeared to be the busiest day of the week.

The Muskingum was the chief cause of our troubles; that river, above Lowell and Beverly, being from 9 to 15 inches higher than ever known before. It continued to rise sometime after the Ohio had come to a stand.

Damage. – Great stories are circulated outside of Marietta as to the fabulous damages sustained in the city by the inundation. If one-half the stories were true, we should be a used-up community. But fortunately this is not the case. Considering the rapidity of the unexpected overflow, the damage has been remarkably small. The lower bridge on Front street was slightly broken – the sidewalk on Greene street washed away about 40 feet, lamp posts bent over, and other slight damage done, to the amount probably of $300 or $400 in all. Messrs. Cram, Temple and Dana & Co. have lost several hundred dollars worth of lumber; and considerable loss accrued to the tanneries of Messrs. J. C. Fell, Dye & McCarty, and Stein & Johnson, by overflowing their vats, wetting their bark, &c. To the merchants and residents the loss will prove inconsiderable, aside from the suspension of business. Marietta is right side up yet, and will continue so to the end, and a pleasanter place to live in no one need search for.

Bridges. – About 150 feet of the tin and rafter roofing of the railroad bridge over the Muskingum was carried away by the violent storm of rain and hail, on Sunday night, the 8th.

Three bridges on the Plank Road were washed off by the late freshet. The lower Duck Creek bridge was removed about six feet down stream by the same high water.

J. Hutchinson had 1500 bushels of corn on Muskingum Island, damaged to the amount of $500 by the late overflow. The rich sediment left on the island will come near making up this loss.

The Muskingum Improvement has been damaged by the late flood to the extent of $10,000 to $15,000. At Winsor, the river washed out a new bed outside the lock, two hundred feet wide and twenty or thiry deep, carrying away two or three small houses. This chasm has to be filled up with brush, stone and earth. Mr. Haskin, the resident engineer, repaired promptly to the spot, and a large force was set to work. At Taylorsville, considerable damage was caused. We understand the repairs will be completed so that navigation can be resumed within twelve or fourteen days.

Outrageous. – That the captain of a steam boat should presume to navigate our rivers when the banks are overflowed half way up people’s houses, is an outrage that deserves the severest condemnation. During the highest stage of water, the steamboat Vulcan, with eight or ten coalboats in tow, passed up the Ohio, close to our shores, throwing great waves against the buildings, rocking them from their foundations, throwing down out houses and fences, and doing much damage to property. There is little doubt but the master or owners of this boat could be made to pay for the loss thus caused. The Emma Graham thoughtlessly paddled up the Muskingum on Wednesday, much to the annoyance of the people and damage to their property. The Graham knows better.

Photographs. – Hollister has taken a series of photographic views of Marietta in high water, for one of the eastern pictorials. They are very fine. Those of our citizens who desire copies of these memorials of wet times can procure them from Mr. H.

Curious Discovery

Mr. Editor: I doubt not many of our citizens, while searching their premises for their own as for lost treasure, will often come upon some things which “moving accidents by flood and field” have unceremoniously wrested from former owners and transferred to their own more favored locality. An incident of this kind has happened to me, which I think deserving of notice. While busily engaged in putting thins to rights about the premises, I stumbled on a nondescript machine-looking concern, and after cleaning and ileing the thing, discovered the smell of printer’s ink upon it. This aroused by suspicions, and having procured the services of the boy Bill, It was put in motion, when it promptly delivered itself of the following machine poetry:Hi-ar Wather Lyric
From the haunts of old Nokomis,
Gushing down Monongahela
Thundering down the Allegany,
Came the torrent wildly foaming,
Joined with Beaver and Kittanning,
Joined with Duck Creek, young Muskingum,
And a host of other like ones.
Big Muskingum now uniting,
All together rushing onward
Till –

Stop her, Bill; she’s got past Marietta now. Giver her a lick back and try a different meter:

The rain came down with a rushing din,
And washed Ohio to his chin;
Muskingum raised up in a ridge
Until his head did hit the bridge!

That’s better, Bill; but give us something more solemn and appropriate to the occasion:

I stand upon Muskingum’s brink,
And see “the last of earth,”
While swiftly floating down the drink,
Goes everything I’m worth.

I wish I staid on Harmar hill,
Or lived on one that’s higher!
I vow! To choose between two ills,
I’d sooner have a fire!

Times isn’t like they used to was,
When all the streets was dry;
The pretty girls float round on slabs,
Or stay up stairs and cry!

O, if a boat would come along,
I’d not stay here an hour,
My clothes are corked up in a jug –
I think there’ll be a shower.

I wish I had a load of slabs,
I’d make a little boat
And on the raging O-hi-o
I’d set myself afloat.

I’d go where Jennings makes his home,
Where people live in trees;
Their toes together grow in webs,
Just like they grow on geese!

If ever I come back again
To this submerged town,
I hope I’ll fall in Kissing Creek,
And stay there till I drown!

That’s feeling, Bill, very; but there is danger of its running into the lugubrious. Let’s have something more business like:

When I can sell my calicoes
To girls that do them prize,
I’ll bid farewell to brooms and hoes
And throw in hooks and eyes!

Let others talk against the town
And let them move away;
So I can make the year come round,
I rather think I’ll stay!

Stop her, Bill! She’s eating up my new hymn-book! Now put the masheen into the garret till we have to carry the goods up there again to keep it company.

The above, Mr. Editor, is “a true copy” of the effusions as they came from the machine. Bill, who did the turning, says in his opinion it’s “fust rate poetry,” and ought to be printed. I therefore take my pen in hand to write you these few lines, hoping they may find you in the enjoyment of the same opinion.

Yours till drown-ded,
Front Street.