Published in the Waukegan Daily Sun, Waukegan, Illinois on Tuesday, October 25, 1910
Italian Hunter Pursued by Sixteen Rattlesnakes is Bitten by One in Finger and Acts as Own Surgeon.
Newburgh, N. Y., Oct. 24.- Arthur J. Sarventi, a well-to-do cigar dealer of this place, went to Pike county, Pennsylvania, last week in quest of deer. One day, a short distance from Eldred, while following some deer, he came across sixteen rattlesnakes sunning themselves on a rock. As he approached the two largest started for him. Sarventi shot the foremost and in endeavoring to get away, he slipped and fell on his right hand. The snake which was near him at once struck his hand, puncturing his forefinger, just above the second joint.
Sarventi realized the situation, and as soon as he could get a safe distance took his hunting knife, cut open the finger and sucked the poison out. He hired a rig, drove to Eldred and had his hand attended to by a physician. By this time the hand and arm had swollen to great size. A day or two afterward with his guide he visited the big rock, found the snakes in the sun, killed the big snake that had bitten him and captured the entire family of fourteen snakes, which the guide says are about 6 months old.
Published in the Chicago Daily Tribune, Chicago, Illinois on Sunday, June 8, 1890
Roscoe Franklin of Brockton, Mass., owns a bay horse, known by the name of Shiloh, that is possessed of a peculiar accomplishment. Mr. Franklin’s stable, a rather old building, is infested by rats that give the horses much trouble, stealing their food and making themselves pests generally. It began to be observed a short time since that in Shiloh’s stall there was to be found every morning one or more of the rodents, dead, the crushed bodies of which of which indicated that they had died violent deaths, but what that death was remained a mystery until one of the stable men discovered that the big bay was himself their executioner.
He was then watched at the work, and the strategy and cunning of the animal is said to be remarkable. He will stand over a rat hole for any length of time without stirring, his ears alert, and his eyes fixed on the hole. Then as the rat breaks cover abruptly and hurriedly, as they always do. Shiloh brings down the sharp hoof of his uplifted foot upon his little harassing foe, crushing the life out of him, and if he fails to strike the wily creature will overtake him with outstretched neck, and seizing him in his powerful teeth throw him against the side of the stall, thus breaking his back.
It is but seldom that this curious ratter fails to kill his prey. The horse actually seems to enjoy the sport, for he will repeat the trick again and again, and if any one stands and watches him at it he will occasionally turn his intelligent eye on the spectator, as if to say; “I’ll get him yet.”-Philadelphia Times.
Published in the Chicago Daily Tribune, Chicago, Illinois on Sunday, June 8, 1890
The two lines were facing one another, with only a short distance separating them. A farmer rode into the Confederate camp on a mule. Most of the soldiers had been farmers and were good judges of horseflesh, so that in conversation with the old farmer the merits and demerits of the mule came up naturally for some discussion. It was a good mule, they agreed with the farmer “but” added the owner, “I’ve never seen another man that could ride him.”
This remark brought on another discussion. Several of the soldiers protested that they had never been thrown from a mule, and were willing to bet that they could ride this one. One of the most vociferous in praising his own horsemanship was a commissary. He swore he could ride that mule, and finally it was decided to let him try.
He had no sooner mounted than the mule began plunging viciously, and then he ran around in a circle several times at breakneck speed, the commissary holding on for his life.
Suddenly that mule made a break for the front. The commissary shouted in vain. Every attempt was made to stop them, but the mule was wild and the commissary knew that if he once let loose he would have been buried.
On like a tornado-and as straight as the crow flies-on past the Confederate outposts and heading for the Yankee lines. They watched him until the mule was lost in sight.
That was the last seen of them, nor has one word ever been heard from that day to this of the commissary or the mule.-Atlanta Constitution.
Published in the Chicago Daily Tribune, Chicago, Illinois on Saturday, August 8, 1885
Port Jarvis, [N.Y.] Gazette: “I never lie about snakes,” Warren replied. Do you remember that about three years ago a collision occurred on the Delaware division to a train carrying O’Brien’s circus and menagerie, and that the snake cage was demolished, and two or three snakes escaped in the darkness. Well, one of these snakes was an anaconda, fourteen feet long, and although it has been seen on several occasions, was never captured. Last Monday a Turk wearing a red turban hat, knee and baggy breeches, and a pair of stockings, but no shoes, arrived at Lackawaxen and inquired the way to Shohoia Falls. He started out, but losing his way found himself late at night alongside of Rattlesnake Creek, tired out, and no house or shelter within sight. The night was very chilly, and the Turk finally lay down on a mossy bank and went to sleep. The next morning two trout fishermen, who had taken an early start, were amazed to discover the Turk lying in a stupor, while a huge slimy, but beautifully stripped snake was endeavoring to swallow him whole. When the fishermen arrived the snake had one of the Turk’s legs swallowed to a point above the knee, and was making but slow progress, having undertaken a bigger job than it expected. The fishermen had no difficulty in killing the snake, as they had it at a disadvantage, being unable to get any further ahead or back out. It was fourteen feet long, and the identical anaconda which had escaped from O’Brien’s circus three years ago. Hompy Williams, the celebrated snake charmer of Lackawaxen, will preserve and mount it, this being the only anaconda ever discovered in Pike County.
“What became of the Turk, Warren?” was the next question. “O, he came around all right. By vigorous rubbing with whiskey, circulation was restored in his leg, and he was able to resume his journey the same day. He was supplied with a pair of boots, the natives being fearful that he would be bitten by a rattler, and that they would then be compelled to bury him, as he was unable to purchase a bottle of rattlesnake antidote. It’s cheaper to buy boots then coffins and dig graves.
Published in the Chicag Daily Tribune, Chicago, Illinois on Sunday, March 15, 1885
Thirty-five Years Underground-Brought to the Surface, He Seeks Death.
Coalbrook [Pa.] Letter to New York Sun:
Three years ago a mule known as “Old Barney,” having spent thirty-five successive years in drawing coal cars in the tunnels of Old Hickory Colliery, was taken out of the mine by his owner and turned out to do as he pleased. Not having breathed any fresh air, nor had a glimpse of daylight since 1850, Old Barney did not take kindly to his new life, and for weeks hung around the mine, recognizing the voices of the miners as they went in and came out, and giving every evidence that he was homesick and wanted to go back to the dark and gloomy chambers where he had grown old. He was unable to see in the daytime for several days, but his sight gradually adapted itself to the new conditions. After Barney found that they were not disposed to let him back into the mine he quit going near it, and spent his time wandering alone about the neighborhood, making no spot his particular habitation, but being welcome everywhere as he was known for miles around and respected as the mule that had lived thirty-five years in a coal mine.
He acted as if he felt that he had been turned out as a useless appendage, and he had a perpetual look of melancholy on his face, and chose the most solitary spots, where he would sometimes remain for days at a time, communing with himself. In spite of his melancholy and his years, his eyes were bright, his coat soft and glossy, and his body in good flesh. Whenever he appeared in the mining villages, which he did frequently, he was always followed and surrounded by troops of miners children, tugging at his stubby tail, hanging to his mouse-colored ears, and straddling his round back. He tolerated children without a protest, no matter what they did to him, but their merriment never dispelled his melancholy for a second.
For a week or so past workmen have been blasting in a ledge of rocks near Old Hickory Colliery, for the purpose of cutting a roadway through it. Last Thursday Old Barney came sauntering along from some place in the hills, and stopped to watch the men at work in the ledge. He evidently remembered the days of blasting in the mines, for every time the men made a charge ready and sought a place of safety to await the explosion Old Barney would take off too, returning after the blast had gone off.
After a half hour or so of solemn enjoyment of this kind Old Barney walked off and disappeared behind the ledge, and the men soon forgot all about him. An hour later they put in an extra large blast, and retired as usual to their safe retreat. About the time they expected to hear the report and see the fragments of rocks flying about, what was their astonishment to see Old Barney reappear around the ledge and walk deliberately up to within six feet of the burning fuse. It was too late to drive him away, for the fuse would be burned to the powder before the men could go ten feet toward the mule. They turned their heads. The blast went off like a cannon, and poor Barney was thrown a rod away and torn to pieces by the mass of rocks. No one can convince anyone who ever knew Old Barney that he did not place himself in the way of the blast, knowing well what the result would be, for the purpose of ending a life that had become burdensome to him.
Published in the Lake County Independent, Libertyville, Illinois on Friday, September 12, 1913
Capt. A. A. Walker Locates the Leader of Chicken Thief Gang at Kenosha.
Did It On Wholesale Plan.
Not Contented With Taking a Few at a Time, Gang Took Up to Fifty at Once.
The wholesale chicken thefts that have been so sorely perplexing Zion City people for the last few weeks have come to a climax at last. There may be other thieves at the business and from a report turned into the police last night there seems to be someone else on the job, for D. W. Davis, 3108 Ezekiel avenue, found two men in his chicken coop about midnight and fired a gun at them. Two officers were sent out from the police station, but no trace could be found of the thieves.
The chief of this gang of thieves was discovered at Kenosha yesterday. Chief of Police A. A. Walker has been on the job for a few weeks trying to run the guilty people down. He reported the thefts to the chief of police at Kenosha and told him to arrest anyone bringing chickens from Zion City. A trap was laid out and it worked. Alfred Olson, alias Johnson, was caught with 32 chickens in his possession. He sold them to a Kenosha man for $22. Later Olson was brought to Zion City and there charged with the wholesale theft of chickens. At first he denied the charge, saying he merely bought the chickens from another man and acted as agent. Walker put him through the grill, however, and he finally confessed.
He admitted in all the theft of 415 chickens. From some houses he took as many as from 20 to 50.
Olson says he grabbed the chickens by the wings and placed them in a sack. He sold his chickens in Kenosha and then went on to Racine and bought potatoes at 50 cents a bushel. He brought the potatoes to Waukegan and disposed of them there at $1 a bushel. He averaged 75 cents a hen and this added up, would total $300 which he has cleared at the business.
Published in the Waukegan Daily Sun, Waukegan, Illinois on Monday, July 10, 1911
Fires in Chicago Also Cause Property Loss of $600,000.
Chicago, July 10.-Two hundred and thirty-seven horses were cremated, a hundred more were imperiled and a property loss aggregating approximately $600,000 was caused by two fires which destroyed the transfer stables of the Arthur Dixon Transfer company, South State street, near Fourteenth, and the storage ware house belonging to W. C. Reeble & Brothers, 2518-2533 Sheffield avenue.
Three firemen were injured in the Dixon stables fire.
Published in the Waukegan Daily Sun, Waukegan, Illinois on Thursday, November 3, 1910
Indiana Farmer Drives Into Barn, Horses Hoofs Hit Flint-Blaze.
Lawrenceburg, Ind., Nov.3.-When George W. Hayes, a farmer, three miles north of here, drove a team to his barn, the steel shoes of the horses came in contact with several Indian arrow heads that were on the floor.
The striking of the steel and flint caused sparks of fire to fly into the dry trash on the floor and the large structure was soon in flames and was destroyed with 2,000 pounds of tobacco, 100 tons of hay, 500 bushels of old corn, two cows and twenty hogs. The loss is estimated at $5,000.
Published in the Waukegan Daily Sun, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, January 6, 1906
Augusta Canine Seemingly Unhappy When Without Them.
There is a dog in Augusta, says the Augusta Chronicle, who dresses just like a man, wearing the regulation coat, vest, collar and cravat, and is very proud of his apparel, being seemingly very much distressed whenever his busy master does not have time to rig him up in his clothes.
If there are any who are “from Missouri,” they may be satisfied by calling at a blacksmith shop on Ellis street, near the city hall, where they can be introduced to him by his master, George Bailey, a negro employe of the smithy.
He wears them with a conscious dignity, and is hugely delighted when anyone stops to notice his attire and comment thereon. He will gaze intently at each speaker and joyously wag his tail when complimented upon his appearance.
It is not known what whim induced the blacksmith to clothe his canine pet “in all points like as we are.” But he certainly devised the dog’s dress most ingeniously. No detail is wanting. The cut of his coat is after the latest mode-has pockets, too-the collar is nicely laundered and the cravat is tied with correct smartness.
The first thing in the morning the dog must be properly dressed, or else he whines piteously. After he has been clothed according to his usual custom his joy knows no bounds, and he displays his pleasure with much barking and wagging of his tail. He has the utmost contempt for the host of naked dogs who roam about the streets and absolutely refuses to associate with them, manifesting a spirit of outraged indignation at their immodesty.
Published in the Waukegan Daily Sun, Waukegan, Illinois on Thursday, August 15, 1907
Tale of an Egg That Has the Ordinary Fisherman’s Yarn Beaten Badly.
Peoria, Ill., Aug.15.-This is not a fish story. It is the tale of an egg of tremendous size and of peculiar shape-a sort of prize box, as it were, for until the owner opened it he had no idea of the surprise that awaited him. When E. G. White, of Lincoln, went into his hen house and found the egg, which was eight and three-quarter inches long and seven and three-quarter inches around the middle, in one of the nests he was amazed.
But there was something more in store for him. He broke the egg and stood speechless with amazement. The big egg was filled with albumen, in which was floating a second egg of ordinary size. The second egg was built on the plan of the ordinary egg of commerce. White is now searching for the hen that produced the giant egg.