Fine Dwelling Burned

The Marietta Republican, October 29, 1858

Yesterday morning about half past 2 o'clock, the large brick dwelling house belonging to Professor Maxwell, but occupied by Rev. George R. Rosseter, on the corner of Fifth and Scammel streets, was discovered to be on fire. Our citizens generally rallied to the scene of the conflagration and the Fire Engines were promptly on the spot, but the progress already made by the flames, and the scarcity of water, made it impossible to prevent the destruction of the entire building, except the walls.

The residence of John O. Cram, Esq., which adjoins the burning building, was saved only by the efforts of the Fire Companies and citizens, as the heat was intense. The loss will probably be $2,000. The house was insured in the Washington County Mutual for $1,500. 

Mr. Rosseter saved most of his furniture and clothing, but lost part of his library. He probably loses $250.

The origin of the fire is unknown.

 

Has Four Wives

Marietta Daily Leader, December 10, 1897

From Ravenswood, W.Va.

Some months ago, one C. W. Petty, a painter by trade, blew into this town from New Matamoras, Ohio. He was much gifted in the use of his tongue, so it is said, and could spin out yarns in a lively manner. 

Not many weeks ago, he married Florence Redden, daughter of U. Redden of this place. Last week a letter was received from a lady at Grandview, Ohio, signing her name "Mrs. Anna Belle Petty," and in this she claims to be his third wife, with one child, and says the other two women are living, his first wife having two children, second wife none.

Last week Petty's father-in-law, U. Redden, got onto the fellow's frequent marriages and made it so warm for him that on Saturday night, with his bundle of "duds" under his arm and tears as big as walnuts standing upon his cheeks, he bid farewell to his wife No. 4 and left for parts unknown, and probably to look for another woman to add to his list.

Notes from West Virginia Vital Records:   

Charles W. Petty of Washington County, Ohio, married Florence Leon Redin in Jackson County, West Virginia, September 25, 1897.

Charles W. Petty married Anna Belle Eddy in Pleasants County, West Virginia, June 14, 1896.

Charles W. Petty married Sarah Braden in Ritchie County, West Virginia, May 7, 1891.

Charles W. Petty appears to have been the son of Daniel and Aurelia Petty of New Matamoras, Grandview Township, Washington County, Ohio .

 

 

 

Parkersburg Florists to Put Agency in Marietta

Marietta Daily Journal, September 1, 1915

J. W. Dudley Sons, prominent florists of Parkersburg, have taken over the retail store of the Marietta Floral Company at 290 Front Street, and beginning today, will operate it as a branch of their Parkersburg establishment.

The Marietta concern will turn its large hot houses in Rathbone Addition over to the raising of vegetables under glass and will confine its activities in the future to this profitable branch of the business. Only the retail end of the Marietta business was sold.

 

Hannah Chalfant Blackledge

Marietta Intelligencer, November 30, 1853

Died.  

Mrs. Hannah Blackledge, daughter of Mr. Basil Chalfant and Mary Chalfant, of Guernsey Co., Ohio, wife of Dr. T. G. Blackledge, departed this life on Friday the 28th of Oct., at half past one in the morning, aged 42 years, 4 mo. and 29 days. She was a consistent member of the Methodist Church, and exhibited an humble, persevering, and decided christian character. She was truly a tender, and loving wife, a kind and affectionate mother, whose counsels and instructions will not soon be forgotten by her beloved family. Her sickness was protracted and severe, yet she endured it without a murmuring word; for her confidence was in Christ. She committed all her earthly cares into the hands of him who does all things well, waiting for the last summon which bid her soul depart from these low grounds of sorrow, affliction and disappointment, to mansions on high. Her last words were exhortations to her family and friends to prepare to meet her in that world of everlasting joy, where parting is unknown, and where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. When the long looked for summons came, she sweetly fell asleep in Jesus, who had been her stay on earth, and her confidence in death.

Leaving a small family, and companion, with a large circle of friends to mourn her departure, yet, while they weep they have this thought to comfort them, that their loss is her gain. 

She has passed from our sight, yet we must not lament her,
Nor wish her return from a holier clime,
She but lingered below, until he who had sent her,
Recalled her to Eden, in womanhood's prime,
The terrors of death had no power to alarm her,
She felt not his darkness, nor feared not his sting,
The hope of the Saviour's kind mercy could calm her,
And her spirit soared upward on faith's ardent wing.
In beauty she slumbers, but we'll not forget her,
Our tears can but moisten the lowers on her tomb,
For the smiles of her Jesus, in mercy hath met her,
Oh! death thou art vanquished, and passed is thy gloom.
How calm is the place where her form now reposes,
And sacred to friends who revisit her tomb,
But while the cold earth her body incloses,
She lives in the presence of Jesus at home.

Salem, Oct. 1853.     G. V. F.

Back to the Old Home

The Daily Register, January 6, 1906

After almost thirty years of wandering and absence, I've been back to the old home in Barlow, Ohio.

In Chicago I met and recognized Mr. Peter McLaren. We had a long "crack," lasting into the wee smaw hours a' yont the twial.

Meeting an old and dear friend in Marietta, was so busily occupied in conversation that I forgot to look out of the car window until we reached Fleming, and then I felt at home. Every house and home and hill and rock and road an stream seemed familiar and unchanged. I saw the hills I'd traversed as a boy with a gun in pursuit of the game that always escaped; the hills that I'd climbed when a schoolboy and played hooky, we called it in those days going to the winter-green hill. I looked down the stream on whose banks I sat and fished many a summer day; I saw the swimming pools, the joyous meeting place of us boys on summer evenings long ago. And then Vincent - I hardly recognized it. It has grown and is a beautiful village of comfortable, commodious and handsome homes.

The old Vincent homestead has passed to strangers and the family scattered. Only one of the name, Mr. Caleb Vincent, now resides in the village. At Barlow I missed the genial and hearty welcome of Capt. J. W Merrill. In memory I went back to the war time and recalled the kindness and attention show to a soldier brother, and the thoughtfulness and sympathy for the friends at home. I recalled, too, my first visit to the Barlow House, the morning after the battle of Chickamaugua. It was the saddest duty of my life to carry the message to the wife and mother that the son was wounded and a prisoner. But the next morning I carried another message that Capt. Merrill was exchanged and was coming home. And so in this home I have seen the pendulum swing, in twenty-four hours, from anguish to joy.  Uncle Jim and Aunt Beck are gone, but they live in memory for the many kind deeds done. 

My people were Scotch, and my visit to my kinsfolk was necessarily among the Scotch people. It began with Mr. Thomas Drain's and extended to Mrs. Duncan Drain's. Only a few of the old Scotch are now living - Uncle James McKay, ninety past, Mrs. Daniel Drain, eighty-seven past, Mrs. David Furguson, eighty-five past. They enjoy the present and recall the past. We think of them as in the twilight of life. But they are enjoying the present and waiting for the coming of the eternal morning. It is worth a trip across a continent to see the closing of a busy and a happy career.

A few others of the younger Scotch, of seventy to eighty, are still in their old homes near Barlow. I visited in twenty-five or thirty different homes, and if any of the sons or daughters in all these thirty years have failed to follow in the footsteps of their fathers, it was never mentioned. The highest tribute that Tennyson could pay to the dead prince was: "He spake no evil, no, nor listened to it." And the tribute that could adorn the character of a king must necessarily add luster to the character of the people.

It was quite a change, coming from a section where every home and farm is for sale. These old farms and homes have been occupied by the same families for sixty or seventy years; seemed strange. In some of the homes I've seen four generations of the same name; in others three and two.

What wonderful memories cluster around these old homes. In one I could see the old gray-haired sire sitting by the fireside after his first born son had been killed in battle, and his second son had gone to the front. I saw him again after his third and last son had been sent to the front. I could recall the parties, the pleasures and the hospitalities of the home. These old rooms and homes bring back the pleasures and happiness of long ago, as well as the sorrows and sadness.

The old father died; the son took his place in the home, in the church, in society.

I have never seen more perfect satisfaction and contentment with their lot in life than here in Barlow and adjoining neighborhood. I had only two weeks to spend, and two weeks were entirely too short. My last day I spent with my aunt, Mrs. Margaret Gordon, and Capt. Samuel Harvey spent the day with us at the Gordon home. It was only two weeks, but my cup of pleasure ran over and my only regret when I came to bid adieu was that my time was too short.

M.