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The commercial. (Union City, Tenn.) 190?-193?, August 09, 1901, Image 1

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icicpnone, io. 144
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99395-33S9-9935 3-3-5--359 995 55U
w . y
Telephone, No. 144 g
fnlm, City Commercial, establish! 1890. i , , . . . . ,
We.t Teim-ssee Courier, established 18U7. j CoD.olM.ted September 1, l!i97.
VOL. 13., NO. 31.
There will be a reduction of from 20 to 30 per cent, on
toilet requisites for the next io days at Moss' Drug Store.
You cdn find some of the best cloth and hair brushes ever shown in the city, and the prices will as
tound you. Remember the place. For io days only. JOHN T. MOSS.
rissom Godwin
Chase & Sanborn's
Teas and
Light Feed
Hardware, Stuff,
1 Produce,
TTjjftvi e very best of everything
. Zli in Choice Groceries and Fresh
lXvliJ Meats always on hand.
DftTSV 44XiiKf Grissom & Godwin
W V PHONE NO. 79. W.
a uiance ai uur waim oai guu& g
e2-A yu woner now we
can do it. iflv.
Ladies' Solid Gold, with d". . CO
Jeweled Movement 41tOu jrf
t in ... .- ,.,i,i fill..,! il;
V!!, jeweled movement at
v a, uents eoia nueci, jewet o -.v.-
Vrr movemncnt O'0
2"rs Gets' ll veil lie ease, 7 ? - f
-tv''V ! jewel movement 3' J H
,VX The quality ol these tfoocis cannot ue
judged by prices. Call ana see tiiem.
zJeweler and Optician, jjj
tl.iMj,,1l T.M
A 9376
la the activity visible
to all wlio come within sight
of our yardsA It not only
tells of prosperity in the
building trade but also of our
popularity among users of
They have found what we sell reliable and come for
more from the same stock.
- Prepared to meet all demands for
JJumber, Lath, Moulding, Sash, '
Poors, Porch Trim, etc.
Prices right, too,
Askins & Dircks Lumber Company.
Phone No. 28 gets--.
ummings'- (jrocery.
Uing us up and give us your order. That's the 3
' quickest way to get
' Country Produce, Fresh Vegetables daily, .and 3
the best in Staple and Fancy (groceries,' a't Yery 3
52 Reasonable prices. -
One Dollar Gets The Commercial,
Union City's Leading Paper.
O ! we go down to if. la blp.
But Hope remains behind.
And Love, with laughter on hi, lipa.
And Peace, of passive mind :
While oat acroii the deep, of night,
Wilb lined Hili of prayer,
We voyage off In qneit of light,
Nor find it anywhere.
0 ! Thou who wroughteat earth and aea.
Yet keepest from our eves
The shores of an eternity
In calms of paradise.
Blow back upon otir foolish quest,
With all the driving rain
Of blinding tears and wild unrest,
And waft na home a rain.
Jape Whitcomb Biliy.
Story of Mr. and Mrs. Frank Parrish
the Strangest of All Those That
Have Grown Out of the Terrible
Tidal Wave.
Santa Fe, N. M., August 7.'
Chance never figured in a prettier
romance than that which has re
united Frank Parish and his young
wife, and has brought to them a
second honeymoon.
The man and his wife were living
in Galveston, Tex., at the time of
the terrible tidal wave last year.
They were caught in the flood and
separated. The man was nearly
drowned, carried across the bay,
and lay an invalid in the house of
a stranger for weeks. The wife
sought him hopelessly for days,
then donned widow's weeds and
went to the home of distant rela
tives at Murfreesboro, Tenn.
The man, as soon as he had part
ly recovered his strength sought,
among the ruins of his home for
his wife's body. It was not there.
He widened the circle of his search
but never did he find a trace of her.
Disconsolate, sick, weary of life,
he went to the ranch of a brother
near lloswell, N. M.
Chance drawing the wife to this
State a few days ago, reunited this
tragically parted couple, and, hap
py in their reunion they are spend
ing their second honeymoon on the
brother's ranch.
When the Galveston flood swept
over the city both Parrish and his
wife were at their little home. As
the water rose they clasped each
other in their arum. Then their
home was lifted from its founda
tion and the merciless wave swept
the husband and wife out into the
darkness, the flood and the storm.
The husband swam bravely,
shouting for help to the winds
which whistled their, derision.
His arms grew weak; he could feel
his wife slipping inch by inch from
his embrace. IJe ooul(feel that
his swimming stroke was impotent
against the wares.
Then he sank. The water cloned
over him. The chorus of winds
was drowned by the strange, harsh
music of water rushing into the
TV lit n 1 il
ears, lie cnoKeu. lie reit me
breaking of his last faint hold up
on the woman beside hiru.
Then al was, sti.
When consciousness returned to
Parrish he found hirnself in a
farmer's homo on. the main land.
The farmer told hmi, bit by bit, of
the terrific havoc the storm had
wrought, and of his miraculous
escape from death heing buffeted
across the bay and thrown upon
thp beach, where by merest chance,
the farmer had found him and
brought him back to Ufa,
Two months passed before the
sick man was able to return to the
scene of his former happiness.
Saddened and desolate he wandered
over the ground whose landmarks
had been swept away by the anger
of the elements, groqnd, once so,
farnUiar, nosy so straqgely ajtered.
He lingered by te nuns, qf his
dwelling hy lVw nlttt?e grave.
Every where he asked the same
question, and. everywhere he re
ceived the same disoouraglng an
No one had seen his wife since
the night of the flood.
His heart grew heavy with dos- j
pair. He bade good-by to the
wreck of his fortunes and the rest
ing place of his broken hopes.
Then he turned his face toward a
new field to begin life over again,
alone. There could be no solace
for his grief, but in labor might
be obtained some measure of for
gotfulness. Frank Parrish went to the home
of his brother, Charles Parrish, in
the mountains of Lincoln County,
N. M. Slowly came back to him
his strength and health, but joy of
life was no longer his. To work
for work's sake was not the same
task that it ha 1 been when work
meant the care of a little woman
who to him was the dearest and
loveliest in all the world; the build
ing of a home together, the delight
of daily companionship and sym
pathy; the constant presence of
that influence which has power to
make devils or heroes of men the
passionate influence of love.
It was not satisfactory at the
best, working for work's sake, but
Frank Parrish did what any man
with the right sort of stuff in him
would have done he tried with all
his might to to make something
worth while of him in his new
To inspire him he had his mem
ories and they were sweet.
All this while Mrs. Parrish was
wearing the sonnet weeds of wid
owhood in Murfreesboro, Tenn.
She had gone there to make her
home with a distant relative of
whom she had never happened to
speak to her husband. Of her
husband's brother she knew noth
ing more than the fact than his ex
istence somewhere in America.
When the fury of the flood had
had torn her from her husband's
arms, a wave had driven her against
some wreckage. She grasped it and
slowly, painfully, she drew herself
upon the roof of a house perhaps
it was that of her own house. She
never knew. There she remained
until the storm had spent itself
until the heavy clouds had broken
until the blackness of the night
had been split, and the new day had
dawned. Within a few hours more
she was found and rescued.
She sought everywhere for her
husband, amid the ruins of their
home, among the sandhills, even
upon the black bardges, into which
were tumbled the swollen bodies
for carriage into the sea, there to
be weighted down and sunk. She
questioned the living, and gazed
into the silent faoea of the dead!
but nowhere did she find a trace of
the man she sought,
Then she made her way to Ten
nessee. As toe weeks went Dy
she regained her health, for youth
is buoyant and recuperative; but
mind and heart were not at rest
her loss seemed at times too great
to be borne. She was so melan
choly that hr relatives finally
planned a change of scene for her.
She acquiesced with indifference.
In the days of her happy wife
hood she had been a merry mate
for the man who loved her. Now
she was pensive and sad, her
thoughts were always with the
husband whose tragic fate she
steadfastly mourned.
One of Mrs. Parmhs new
found friends waa a Miss Ellen
Alexander, who was about to leave
Tennessee for New Mexico to
teach a private school in Otero
County. Before the commencement
of the term it was arranged that
Mrs. Parrish should accompany
her. In Mexico she would find
different associations an the
change oqld, perhana enliven her
depressed spirits,
Liate in July ajrs. rarrJsh and
Miss Alexander arrived in lioa
well. The day was Thursday,
They learned that the stage by
whioh they wore to proceed to Lin
coln and Capitan, at which place
Miss Alexander has a married sis
ter would not go until Monday.
The next day Mr. Parrish came
to town to purchase supplies and
machinery. He wished to go buck
the same day, but was delayed un
til Sunday. He was disappointed.
For two days tho husband and
wife were in the little town without
knowing it, both detained against
their wills.
On Sunday at noon Mrs. Parrish
left the hotel at which she was
staying for a walk.
On Sunday at noon Mr. Parrish
his team ready, stepped from the
postoffice to the sidewalk and in
another moment would have
mounted the vehicle, taken up his
eins and been on his way to the
Looking up he saw before him
what ho thought was a vision a
wraith from the sea. But the vis
ion was so real that it did not
melt in the sunshine of that Sab
bath noon. It did not fade away
as all the other visions of his lost
love had faded, phantoms of a fond
imagination. Instead it held out
two longing, trembling arms, and
the light of deathless devotion il
lumed its face.
"My wife! 'My wife!"
And so it is that a second hon
eymoon has begun down here in
the New Mexico mountains. St.
Louis Republic.
f News-Journal, Winchester, Tenn.
The following impromptu lines,
composed by our young druggist
and friend, Will D. Museof Es
till Springs, Tenn., were picked
up in the office of Attorney Jesse
M. Littleton, one day this week.
They are printed for two reasons
first because of their true poetic
quality, and, second because the
subject matter at once finds a re
sponsive echo in the breast of every
loyal Tennessean. We congratu
late our young friend upon his
I sat in the lawyer's office.
With the pictures on the wall,
But the picture of "Our Bob " Taylor
Was the dearest of them all.
There was Bryan, MoKloley and Evans,
And old Alf Tavlor, too,
But none like Bob, so handsomn,
And none so kind and true.
He is our till the years grow weary,
He's tiie Bob for you and me,
He Is the pride of a million people
"Our Bob" of Tennessee.
Is What Mr. Bryan Characterizes
Maclay's Attack on Schley.
Lincoln, Neb., August 2. In
his comment on the Schley contro
versy, W. J. Bryan takes the side
of Hear-Admiral Schley, giving
him credit for the victory at San
tiago and declaring it a "pity that
there should be any controversy
that seeks to discredit a brave,
honorable sea fighter, who success
fully led the American forces in
one of the greatest, if not the
greatest naval battle in the history
of the world." Mr. Bryan de
nounces the Maolay history of the
struggle and thinks it strange that
a historian finds it necessary "to
resort to the lowest form of abuse
in dealing with an historical char
The old-fashioned bedstoid I how well I recall
Uprearlng In spare room of grandfather's
mans. ;
Quadrupedal glnnt! Its stature so tall
It seemed lifting to heaven Its snowy expanse.
Ah! how can I banish that first night' rejec
tion, As, gating aloft atlts Infinite spaoe,
I wondered at every new tonr of inspection
How I would climb np to Its lofty embrace.
The bop, skip and jnmp proved an Infinite all
ure, A leap from the washstan.il fell equally flat.
And I followed suit, while my frittered regalia
Wa scattered around on the floor where I sat.
At lt constructed a stairway that aided
A wild running lump from the old mantle,
And like Alpine olimber by effort o'erjaded,
I lauded hip-deep In Its mountain of fleece.
01 weird Himalaya of old-fashioned chattels
1 felt In thy clutch tike a tempest-tossed tar,
And I prayed all the night to the great god of
To save me from Jarring some overhead star.
And certain am I that fur life I'd been fated
To stay there, had not some one heard m by
And brought in a ladder, and thus consum
mated My flight from that bedstead In grandfather's
Boston Courier.
An eloquent speech delivered a
few days siuce at the Havwood
County Confederate Keunion held
at Brownsville a few days ago:
"Ladies and Gentlemen: Time
in his tireless flight has brought us
again to the full leaf and flower of
another summer.
"The grass grows green above
the dust of heroes; the roses twine
once more about their tombs, and
the morning-glories' point their
purple bugles towards the sky as
if to sound a reveille to our im
mortal dead.
"Another year with its sunshine
and its shadows, its laughter and
its tears, its sowing and its reaping,
its cradle song and its funeral
hymns, now lies between us and
that dark day at Appomattox, when
the star of Southern hope went
down and the flag of Southern
chivalry was furled forever.
"Another year has added whiter
locks to tho temples of these old
veterans who wore the gray and
deeper furrows to their brows and
they now stand among us like sol
itary oaks in the midst of a fallen
forest, hoary with age, covered
with scars and glorious as the liv
ing monuments of Southern man
hood and Southern courage.
"But we are not far enough away
from that awful struggle to forget
the bloody hills of Shiloh, where
Albert Sidney Johnson died, and
the fatal field of Chancellorsville
where Stonewall Jackson fell.
"We are not far enough away to
forget tho frowning heights of
Gettysburg, where Picket's charg
ing lines rushed to glory and the
"We are not yet far enough
away to forget Murfreesboro and
Missionary Ridge and Chicka
mauga, and a hundred other fields
of death and carnage where the
flower of the South, the bravest of
the brave, and the truest of the
true fought for the cause they
thought was right and died for the
land they loved.
"We are not yet far enough
away to forget the agony and the
tears of a nation that was crushed
when the shattered armies of Lee
and Johnston, worn and weary,
half starved, barefooted and in
i, stacked their aims in the
gloom of defeat and left the field
of valor overwhelmed and over
powered, and yet undaunted and
"When time has measured off a
thousand years, we will not forget
the sufferings and the sacrifices of
the brave men who so freely gave
their fortunes and shed their blood
to preserve the most brillant civil
ization that ever flourished in any
land or itf" any age, for literature
loves a lost cause.
"Historians will some day sit
down on our battle fields and write
true history history which will
read like the wildest dreams of
fancy that were ever woven into
fiction, and poets will linger among
our graves and sing sweeter songs
than were ever sung before, for
each monument is a volume within
itself of wild and thrilling adven
ture, and every tombstone tells a
story as touching as the soldier's
last tear on the white bosom of his
manhood's pride, tender as the
last farewell.
"1 would not utter a word of
bitterness against the men who
wore the blue. They fought and
died under the old flag to perpet
uate the Union, and they were foe j
men worthy of Southern prowess
and Southern valor.
"I would not if I could rob
Grant, the great and noble chief
tain, of his fame and glory. Every
Southern soldier ought to stand
with uncovered head when his
name is spoken, for when all was
lost in the darkest and saddest mo
rucnt of Southern history, he was
magnanimous to Lee and kind to
his tattered and famished army.
4441 . .1. 41 1? . "
1 --Mu"3 " M"e iiuus 01 me tri
umphant foe when the unhappy
Confederates marched between
them and laid down their guns,
there w as no shout of victory, no
flourish of trumpets, but only si
lence and tears.
"When that conflict had ended
the Confederate soldier proudly
stood among the blackened walls
of his ruined country, magnificent
in the gloom of defeat and still a
"His sword was broken, his
home was in ashes, the earth was
red beneath him, the sky wns black
above him. He had placed all in
the scale of war and lost all save
honor, but ho did not sit down in
despair to weep away the passing
years. His slaves were gone, but
he was still a master. Too proud
to pine, too strong to yield to ad
versity he threw down his musket
and laid his willing, but unskilled
hand upon the walking plow. He
put away the knap-sack of war and
turned his face toward the morning
of peace. He abandoned the rebel
yell to enter the forum and
the court room and tho hus
tings. He gave up the sword
to enter the battles of industry and
commerce and now in a little
more than a third of a century the
land of dosolation and of death,
the land of monuments and mem
ories has reached the spring time
of a grander destiny, and tho sun
shines bright upon tho domes and
towers of new cities built upon the
old and the cotton fields wave their
white banners of peace and the
fields of wheat wave back their
banners of gold.
"Who can portray tho possibili
ties of a country which has pro
duced the Lee's and Jackson'B and
the brilliant Gordon and the dash
ing Joe Wheeler who is as gallant
in the blue as he was glorious in
the gray, and the impetuous and
immortal Bedford Forrest, the
Marshal Ney of tho Confederacy.
"Who can portary the possibili
ties of a country which has pro
duced the stalwart and sinewy men
of the rank and file, who followed
the stars and bars through the
smoke and flame of every desper
ate battle and stepped proudly in
to history as the greatest fighters
the world has ever known.
"A country so richly blessed,
not only with brave men and
beautiful women, but whose blos
soming hills and verdant valleys
are so generous and kind, and
whose mountains are burdened
with coal and copper and zinc and
lead enough to supply the world
for a thousand years; whose virgin
forests yet Btand waiting and sigh
ing for the woodman's axe; and
whose winding rivers flow clear
and cool and make music as they
"It is the beautiful land of love
and liberty, of sunshine and senti
ment, of fruits and flowers, where
the grape vine staggers from tree
to tree as if drunk with the wino
of its own purple clusters; where
peach and. plum and blood-red
cherries and every kind of berries
bend bough and bush, and glow
like showered drops of rubies and
of pearls. It is the land of the
magnolia and the melon, the para
dise of the cotton and the cane.
They tell us now that it is the new
South, but tho same old blood
runs in the veins of these old vet
erans and the same old spirit
heaves their bosoms and flashes in
their eyes.
"The same old soldiers who
wielded the musket long ago, are
nursing their grandchildren on
their knees to-day and teaching
them the samo old lessons of honor
and truth and the same old love of
liberty, the mocking bird sing
the same old song in the same old
trees and the brooks leap and
laugh down the same old hollowb.
We till the same old ficldn and drink
from the same old springs and
climb among the same old rocks
(Coutloued on Bticoud Page)

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