Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1874-04-16
BRIDGEPORT LOCALS.

To our friend John J. Ashenhurst, of
the Ohio VaLleg Nelrs, recently married.
John, we bid thee welcome, and thy loving
wife,
Thrice welcome to the bliss of married life;
May all thy years in joy serenely flow,
Nor aught of sorrow or misfortune know
Press onward; miaion thy cares, in
brerier thy sadness, in SMALL CAPS he
thy blessings, in noapareH thy glad
ness, full font of Cdudle lectures, ring
ing out upon the air, with BARNS
bakers dozen, to cuddle yer auld gray
hair.
The weather of Saturday last provo
ked very n-Sunday-school expressions
when one was remined it was 'ethe-
rial spriDgtime.'
Notwithstanding the crusade, the
river is 'on high and the whistle of
the tow-boat is again heard. $500, 900
bushels of coal are now in transit to
Southern markets from above.
Some of your readers have pleasant
recollection of jolly Tom Shaw We
sa poor Tom to-day-a mere wreck of
his former self; nothing is left of the
genial clever fellow, but Il dilapidated,
miserable, unhappy Outcast. Whisky
did it.
The authorities having in charge the
Burlington and West Wheeling Pike,
are planning to push the enterprise
rapidly to completion.
w. w. Holloway lost his valuable
family horse on Wednesday last.
The c. & P. Railroad construction
corps is putting in new sleeper~, and
otherwise repairing the Railroad bridge
across the creek.
Etnaville is being treated to gener
al coat of paint. The little town il
really beginning to look qnite attrac
tive.
Ifever the oldest inhabitant' saw
any weather that beat that of last
Thursday afternoon and night, for in
clemency and changes, suddenly and
frequently from bad to worse, ther
from worse to worser, why we respect
fully ask him to rise and explain We
We're out in much of it, hence know
how it was ourself.' When we reach
ed home and sat down to listen to the
warning elements without, we had a
slight attack of the muses.. We are no,
sure our style is after Bret Harte, len
nyson, or who, orif their style is like
ours-but we think, may be, it is. Our:
is auaerception able anyhow, and that's {
great thing with US poets; nothing likt
it, except the poetry. What an inspi
ring influence that ofpoetry is! An or
binary attack of worms is nowhere
But to the poetry-'aye, there's the rub.
1 THE STORM!
First it blowed,
Then it rained
Then it showed in its happiest mode,
While in response our rheumatic panied,
As onward we rode, with spur and with goad
i To our virtuous abode
Down the road!
/ Now athwart the sky runs
The electric red glare;
The hail falls by tons, thunder and guns
We declare, while we stare
:. At our three pretty Buns, father and son-
Skipping like hail through the air
To their lair,
: Under the cellar stair.
Then it blowed
Till we quailed
And squat like toad, as the heavens bestow,
Sucn artli ry tones, as Wo u Wake the uFy Dones
Then the lightning regaled
Then it showed blowed and hailed, [snow
And the ground is aglow with ''the beautiful
Come tell us the use, of this bluster and blow
This is suthin we'd like to know, you know
About the snow,
And the terrible blow
And still it halls and blows;
And the rain in binding torrents flows
With the meekness of Nose, we dotf our we
clothes,
:, And into our virtuous bed to doze,
We are snugly slowed away. [door
So let the man in the moon" take care of GU
All night, and on, while still it SHOWS and
blows; from our homo
But we say to all callers, tonight we are fla
!. And had you only known this, why, yo
needn't have come!
But 'jes so'' tits,
Jes so;' 80