The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume], April 28, 1888, English, Image 1

About The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898

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JOURNAL OF THE 9 In SENATORIAL DISTRICT
Official Journal of the Parish ot Lafourche and the Town of Thibodaux
VOL. XXIII.
THIBODAUX, LA., SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 1888.
NO. 39.
OFFICIAL DIRECTORY.
State Officers.
Governor: ..S. D. McEnory, of Onaclnta
liient- Gov. .Clay Knolitocli. of Lafourche,
gee. of State. Oscar Arroyo, of Plaquemines.
And. Pub- Acct's.-.O. II. Steele of Union.
State Troa a 'irer, . .E. A. Rurko. of Orleans,
Attorney General......M- .T. Cunningham.
of Natchitoches
gnpt-of Pnh. Ed...W. Easton, of Orleans.
U. S. Senators.
Ju. B. Enst is.................of Orleans.
R. L- Gibson..................of Orleans.
Judges Supreme Court.
Chief Justice : E«lw. Bernunlez. of Orleans.
Associate*' F. P. Poche, of St. James.
" C E. Fenner, of Orleans
" ' R. B. Todd, of Webster
" " L. B. Watkins, Red River.
Circuit Court of ArrEALS, Fifth Circuit.
I. W. Blake...............of Lafourche
H.D. Smith..................of St. Mary.
CON'GIWMM an. 3rd. Congressional Dist.
E.J. Gay.....................of Iberville.
Dist. Judges, 20th. Jnd. Dist.
Taylor Beattie...........A. F. Knohlocli.
Dist. Attorney...........E- A. O'Snllivan.
Pari n Officers.
Representatives:...........H. N. Conlon.
........Dr. Wm. Harang
Coroner................Dr. John Gazzn
Clerk ofConrt............J- W. Knobloch
Sheriff...............Theophile Thibodaux.
Pnnter and Treasurer........F. Sancan
Assessor...............John M. Walsh,
Returning Officer.........W. C. Ragan,
Police Jurors.
President, H, N. Conlon, Jno. S- Seely
I T. Grisamore, Sosihhne Folse, M. De
laune, L- Cherami. James Moran, Ilamil
ton Ayo, Chas. S. Mathews and L. Krae
mer. Clerk Police Jury, Alfred Engeran.
Roao and Lkvkk Inspectors.
District No. 1................O. J. 8cvm
No. 2 ........... .Jas. A. Hargis
No. 3 ...........James. Moran
No. 4...........Alidor Pitre
No. 5........J. Eugene Conlon
No. (>......Telespliore Rodrigues
No. 7........Sylvaiu Bourgeois
No. 8..........Lubiu Bergeron
Drainage Commissioners.
District No. 1—F- V- Morvaut, J- B. Mire,
J. E- Conlon.
District No 2,—Oz6iii6 Naquin, J.C- Braud,
John McCnlla.
District No. 3—Sosthene Folse. L. J- Cail
lonet, Evelieu Bourgeois.
Distriel No. 4—J. A. CUudet, O Totij*
F. Savoie
District No. fv—L. A- Troeclair, 8. Mor
vant, Droziu Cancieme.
District No- ti-U- Presteubavh, O- Lepine.
Capt Hotard.
District No. ~r~ Clias. S. Matbewe, R. Fo
ret, Hamilton Ayo.
District No- 8»—James Moran, J. Foret.
T- Badeanx.
District No. 9—>E. Cretini, V. Gnedry.
E- Savoie.
District No. 10—Lubiu Bergeron, Lenffroy
Daigle, O. Thibodaux.
Municipal Officers.
Mayor, I. D. Moore, Conucihneii, P. E.
Lori if T. P. Bergeron, Ed. Curtis, Janies
Wright, E. N. Roth, Jaicss Cherault
Treasurer...................F. Suuchii.
Town Marshal............... J. A nuclei
Aflst, " Joseph Julies
Clerk.............. Henry L. Boudreaux
Pest Master................ K- R- McBride.
Directors of the School Bo i:d.
8 . T. Giissimore. president: Thos. A.
Radeau. superiliteiuleiit; W. 11. Kagan.
J. L. Aucoiu, E. G. Curtis, J. M. Howell
4.J. Braud. Henry Riviere, Ernest Roger.
Directors of Tiiihodaaux Bridge Co.
I. D. Moore, president; H- W. Tahor,
treasurer; E. G, i intis, secretary; P. E.
Leno. Andrew Price.
Post fk cks in the Parish.
Sheens,-; Gnedry--Cetini; La
louche Crossing,-: i.ockpoi l Gus
tave Abribat. Jr.; Malagay. u. O. Nicn.as
flange City.-; Pugh, A. Angelos;
Raoelasd, Aiuadeo Lejeuuc; fbibodaux.
LB McUinle.
railroad schedule.
THIBODAUX BRANCH.
Astern mail leaves..............1 10 p. t*.
_ ** arrives.............. 3:3< p. in.
■oaf Orleans uiaii leaves .......... L:t 0 p at.
arrives.......... I:»A p. ta.
SMITH OR STRONG.
The heaviest snow of the winter
caught me at a little town on the
Union Pacific. Travel oil the road was
complete y blocked, and 1 had to make
myself as comfortable as possible at
the village hotel.
I stood looking out of the window
into the snowy street, wondering
whether such a black looking place
afforded any facilities for pastime or
amusement. On the opposite side of
the way my eye caught the name of
John Smith on a sign over the door of
a small grocery. 1 smiled when I saw
the familiar name. One linds it every
where. It belts the continent.
'•That must be Smith," I said to my
self, as a man came to the door of the
store and looked out. Having nothing
else to do, I took a good look at him.
He was a little old man. gray-headed
and weazen-faced. Something in his
appearance aroused a sudden interest
Where had I seen him f
Finally it all dashed upon nte in a
moment. Twenty years before I had
known this John Smith in one of the
South Atlantic States. His name at
that time was Edward Strong, and he
waa a well-to-do country merchant,
with a wife aud child. The Strong fa
mily seemed to be a happy one, and if
there was a skeleton concealed about
the house the ontsitle world did not
know it. One night Strong did not re
turn home. His absence was so remar
kable that his wife sat np until niorL
ing waiting for him. Still the missing
man did not appear, last a party
of men started out to search for hint.
On the liver 1 auk, not far from his
house, rhey found Strong's liat and
cane. The footprints leading to the
water indicated that a struggle had oc
cured, or that Stroug bad aimlessly
walked round aud round before throw
ing himself into the river. Every ef
fort was made to recover the body, and
a reward was offered, but without re
sult. Nothing was ever heard of the
missing merchant, aud after hoping
against hope year after year, Mrs.
Stroug gave up in despair. A nervous
fever carried her off, aud in a few
weeks she was followed by her child.
And itow, after twenty years, Ed
ward Strong stood before nte masquer
ading as John Smith. It wub impossi
ble to be mistaken. The face, the fi
gure, and certain tricks of gestare
made me absolutely certain.
"Mr. Strong," I said, walkiug up to
him, "have you forgotten me f"
"You have made a mistake," he re
plied calmly. "My name is John
Smith, and I do not think that I ever
saw you before."
"Edward Stroug," I broke out, "I
am ready to swear to your face, your
manuer, aud your voice. I knew you
for years in llooiuburg. When you
disappeared I shared the grief of your
wife aud ohild, comforting them as
well as I could. In those days I was
your friend and if you can make any
reasonable explanations of your con
duct I will staud by you again."
A puzzled, pained look came over the
man's face. He appeared to struggle
with some inward emotion, aud theu
meeting my fixed gaze, lie said :
"You are evidently siucere in what
you say, sir, but I have never borne
the name of Strong. 1 know nothing
ot Booinburg. The people here will
tell you who 1 am." v
I was silenced tor n time. The
man's sublime assurance checked me.
"May I tell you what became of
your wife and child f" 1 asked.
"My dear sir," was the response, "of
course this annoys me, but as you
■sem to take the matter so much to
heart, you may tell your little story.
Come ami sit down by the stove."
There were no customers in the store,
and although I was choking with
wrath, I proceeded to make the most
of the invitation. As impressively as
I could, I told my listener all about
the grief of his wife after his strange
disappearance, and how she and her
little boy had gone to their graves
mourning for the man who had desert
ed them.
"Beats anything I ever heard," said
the alleged Smith : "very sad indeed.
Do you think the fellow drowned him
self, or was he the victim of robbers ?"
His audacity amazed me so much
that I could hardly utter a word,
"How long have you lived here?" I
asked abruptly.
"Ten years."
"And where did you live before ?"
"San Franciseo. 1 came from there
to this place."
"And you can refer nte to reputable
men in Han Francisco who have known
you from boyhood up as John Smith ?"
"It would serve you right to say
that it is none of your business," was
the reply, "hut I will say that I can
give yon the names of men who have
known me siuce 18—."
"But that is only twenty years ago,"
I said, "Now you are passed, fifty.
If you can not make a showing hack
of twenty years ago I am more than
•ver convinced that yon are Edward
Strong.".
The merchant rose from his chair,
and with the same pained look that I
had observed before, said:
"It is useless to prolong the conver
satiafi* You are controlled by a delu
sion, and it will not profit us to discuss
it."
I started to go, hut when I readied
the door the alleged Smith called me
back.
"It is snowing agaiu," lfe remarked,
"and we are not likely to he disturbed.
I have a great ntiud to fell you my
history." i
"That is right, Strong'' said I, im
pulsively, "make a clean breast of it.
As one of your oldest friends I certain
ly shall not judge you harshly."
"My name is not Strong/' he answer
ed quR-kly. "I know nothing of him
and his affairs, but, nevertheless, I
have a rather peculiar history.
"I know nothing of my childhood
and early manhood," he continued,
"When 1 first came to myself I was
working as a deck hand on a Missis
sippi river steamboat."
"When you first came to yourself!''
I interrupted.
"Yes, that is the best way to put it.
They told me that. I had asked for
leave to work tuy passage up the river.
They had picked me up in a swamp,
and my appearance* showed that I had
been wandering about for weeks, per
haps mouths. By slow degrees mind
grew stronger, and I was able to take
care of myself when we got to St.
Louis. I found work aj£d saved my
money, and after awhile went to San
Francisco. Gradually I began to re
member scraps of forgotten knowledge
but so far as places or persons wore
concerned my memory bas never been
able to go back farther than the time
when I was a deck hand."
"And that was-!"
"About twenty years ago," lie re
plied in a sad and thoughtful tone.
"Have you been injured in any way,
wounded in the head, for example !"
I suggested.
"I do not know. I have never been
able to unveil the past. Once in San
Francisco I visited the lunatic asylum,
and I was impressed with the idea that
everything was siiuiliar, that some
time in my life 1 liail been accustomed
to such scenes."
"Have you ever married ?"
"No, I have never felt the desire to
marry. But I feel that if in my old
life, if in the forgotten past, I had
known what it was to love a wife and
ell.Id, your story of Strong and liis fate
would have revived my dead memory. 1 '
"And knowing what you know of
the past, do you still maintain that
you are not Edward Strong f n
The mau looked at me thoughtfully.
"I can not think so," said he.
"Whether my name is Smith or not, is
more than 1 can say, hut I do not be
lieve that I ever lived in the East or
ever had a wife or child. No 1 am not,
can uot be your friend, Strong."
"Go to Boomburg with me," I urged.
"Aud why ! You say that Stroug has
uo relations now living. Why should
I go back there ! Suppose two or three
old people agreed with you and took
me for Strong, that would not convince
me. No, it is better to remain where
I am."
Later in the day a train made its
way up the road and I found it neces
sary to take my dej larture. Before
leaving, however, 1 begged Strong
(for i?o I called him) to investigate his
life in Boomburg. He shook his head
gravely.
"You are mistaken," he said. "I
must live and die as John Smith, but T
am sorry for poor Strong and his fami
ly."
I had to give it up. hut I know as
well as I know anything that John
Smith is Edward Strong.
HIS FIRST GRIZZLY.
A NEWSPAPER HI MOUIST's ENCOUN
TER WITH A MIGHTT SMART
BEAK.
It was this way :
We had been out from camp—Jim
and I—for three days, and the whisky
was getting low. We had first emp
tied both our tiasks into the coffee pot,
pooling our remaining stock, and
were going to make an even divide,
when the hear came in.
He had not been invited, nor did he
knock as he' came in. He just came
strolling out of the brush, in a listless
disthitjue way, up to the camp fire.
We rose, of coarse. It is the inva
riable vustoin in the mountains, when
a bear joius a party unexpected, for
the members of the party to rise. If
the bear is a small one, it is not consi
dered necessary to rise higher than
the lowest branches—some seven or
eight feet; hut, on the upproach of a
grizzly or large cinnamon, it is cus
tomary to rise five or six feet higher.
Social etiquette is very striet on these
points.
This was a grizzly; so we did not
Btay even to look for our guns; but
rose at once about twenty feet.
He hardly acknowledged our cour
tesy—-just the bearest recognition—
and then proceeded to take an inven
tory of our outfit. It was not long be
fore he struck the whiskey. Then he
sat down to make a night of it.
"Jake," said Jim, calling me across
from his tree to mine : "I poured my
whisky into the pot first, didn't I T'
"Yes."
"So my share's at the bottom, and
it's yonr half he's drinking now, ain't
it!"
It was a low-dowa way for Jim to
talk, and I felt like dropping out of
my tree and climbing up to thrash him.
But I didn't.
Soon the liquor begau to tell on the
bear, as we could see from his hic
coughs and the unsteady look in his
eye.
Then he—the bear—began overhaul
ing our packs. Soon he came to my
spare overalls and, diving his fore paw
into the pocket, pulled out an old
pawn-ticket and a key. The ticket
had ran out, so he tfirew it away.
Then he grabbed the key; and, pick
ing up my hat and putting it on over
one ear, staggered across to the foot
of Jim's tree, and commenced jabbing
the key into the crevices of the hark.
"Looking for the keyhole, by all
that's holy !" said Jim, as he drew his
legs up a couple of feet higher.
Presently the hear dropped the key
into the grass, and tried to look as if
he bad done it on purpose. Then he
saw my rubber boots ; and you should
have heard hi in laugh as he grabbed
them! Then he sat down on his
haunches and begau to pull the boots
on.
But he had his back turned to me
now ; so while he was wrestling, try
ing to put his left foot into the right
boot, 1 just dropped from my tree and
reached for a rifie. He must have
heard me drop, and I hardly had hold
of the gun before he was up and facing
me.
It was an awful moment! Scarcely
ten feet separated me front the Mon
arch of the Mountains—the Terror of
the Forests ! His eyes seemed to flash
living lire in the blaze of the burning
logs, and in the flickering light, his
teeth those teeth which, if my mus
cles t entitled at the critical moment,
would soon he bathed in my life-blood
—looked doubly terrible.
For an instant there v.as a death
like hush as we stood facing each other
in the lurid tire-light. We both knew
that it was \v:>r to the death.
Then he rose in all his rugged maj
esty. He came toward me —slowly,
terribly. I could almost feel his hot
breath on niv hands. The supreme
moment had arrived. My finger was
already pressing the trigger. He
opened ltis mouth.
"Let'er—hie !—go, Gallagher!" he
growled with his last hiccough.
And I did.
But when he was dead, I wished I
had stopped to ask him how he had
got onto my mime .—A a men Gallayher,
in Puck.
Figuratively Speaking: The use of
figures drawn from men's surround
ings is one of the most interesting phe
nomena of human speech. Thus we
knew a sea captain who invariably, in
warning sinners, told them to beware
of a "lee shore." Meeting a ranch
man from Montana on the train, he
asked if a "news butcher" had beem
through the car. A physician, a few
weeks since, giving us au account of
the decline of a church in his towni
said it had died of the "foot and mouth
disease." Being asked what he meant
he said that the people spent their
time "running around talking about
each other."— Christian Advocate.
Weekly Weather Crop Bulletin
OF THE LOUISIANA STATE WEATHER
SERVICE.
N ew Orleans, April 21,1888.
The weather conditions during the
past week, excepting the lack of rain
fall, have been very favorable to the
growing crops, and to plowing and
planting in the northern and central
sections of the State.
The mean temperature for the week
has been slightly above the normal of
the corresponding week of past twenty
years in the interior of the State, and
about the normal elsewhere.
There has been no appreciable rain
fall hi any of the sections from which
reports for the week have been re
ceived. Showers are needed to bring
np the cotton and corn in the northern
part of the State, and would bo of
great benefit to the growing crops of
the southern and central sections.
Another week of sunshine has had a
favorable effect on all classes of fami
wurk. The percentage during the
week has ranged from 5 to 25 per cent,
above' the normal.
General remarks of observers. Mon
roe—Half an inch of rain fell on the
19th ; bail light; no damage therefrom:
Rain very beneficial. Liberty Hall—
Needing rain; corn all planted and
cotton about half done. Delta—Buf
falo gnats reported in the lower part
of the parish ; condition of the weather
unfavoruble to seed that was planted
and should be up; most of the plant
ing from twenty to thirty days behind
time. Point Pleasant—A little rain is
needed to aid cotton and corn. Trin
ity—Weather favorable to the cotton
crop, lmt injurious to corn and gar
dens ; rain needed badly. Vidalia—
Rain needed badly; corn'very dry and
cotton coming up badly, owing to dry
weather. New Hope—Weather favor
able for plowing and planting; good
stand of corn and growing finely. Ba
ton Rouge—Dry weather of past week
very favorable to cotton planting;
caue plants in need of rain ; corn do
ing well; all crops late for this season.
Grand Coteau—Crops rising nicely,
hut work still behind. Kenner—Need
rain very much ; soil hard aud dry;
crops not suffering much as yet, but
can't stand the drouth much longer
without damage; crops looking well
considering that we have had no rain
fir some time. R. E. Kerkam,
Sig. Corps Director.