The sea coast echo. [volume] (Bay Saint Louis, Miss.) 1892-current, 1892-08-13
THE SQUiRE'S MISTAKE.
An Incident OF Life In the Village Named
After Gen. Grant.

Fl. Zebulon Hawkins memory is re-
vered in the hamlet of Grant, N. Y, as
that of man of phenomenal foresight.
zebulon rode into the military post at
Sacketts Harbor, N. Y, one October
day back in the fifties, with . fat buck
across his saddles pommel. He sold
the venison for double it's value to a
lieutenant of infantry there stationed,
who, in addition to the big price paid,
housed the huntsman over night. Zeb
was bit troubled in conscience over
the big price he had put on the deer,
particularly so because of the lieuten-
ants show of hospitality. So he evened
things up year later by naming set
tlement that he founded Grant in honor
of his host. Years afterward, when the
lieutenant became lieutenant general,
Zeb told people that he had foreseen
Grants greatness.
Grant had one hundred and fifty peo-
pie within it's limits when was born
there thirty years ago, and the census
to-day will show but little change. 1t
lies in the very heart of the great
North woods of New York. Grant
people to this day tell the city tourists
who stop there on their way to the
Joe's lake fishing the story of Squire
Harden's Internal machine.
1t was in the spring of 1879, and the
first newspaper that came to Grant
after the snow went out of the road con-
tanned an account of the receipt of an
Internal machine by New York Judge.
Internal machines were new to Grant
people, and the story was talked over
nightly at Deodatus Wells general
store. The machine as described was
about the size of cigar-box and was
wrapped in brown paper.
Squire Harden, of Grant, was holding
justice court over in Bethune, a mite
OF a village in our township, when the
account of the machine reached us.
Bethune people had rounded up some
timber thieves and the justice had given
them the limit of the law in fines and
imprisonment. He got back to Grant
Saturday night. Monday noon a
stranger rode into Grant from the di-
rection of Bethune, and, going straight
to the Harden house, left with Sally
Beecraft, the guides daughter, who
was hired help" at the Squire's, a
package done up in brown paper. The
stranger then struck out over the rail,
road trail. / was a boy of ten years of
age at the time, and 1 had listened
open-eared and open-eyed to the tale of
the Internal machine. 1 saw the
stranger deliver the package to Sally;
the New York story with it's attendant
horrors rushed over me and I
bolted for the squire's sitting.
room, reaching it before he had
united the string of the package.
fairly got on my knees in prayerful ter
ror lest he should open the thing. He
heard my story and was so much struck
with it that he backed away from the
package and valiantly called in Sally
to take it to the yard. She knew moth.
ing OF Internal machines, and gave the
box shake that called forth a wall
from me. The package was put out in
the yard close under the caves of the
house, and the squire called in the
neighbors, who agreed with one accord
that the box was an Internal machine
sent by friends of the men whom the
squire had sentenced at Bethune.
The justice was now swelling with
added Importance. eve iurists,', he
said to Blacksmith Farraday, run
tremendous risks because of our deyo-
ton to duty"
Every one had suggestion. Throw
ing the box into the swift-rushing West
Canado creek was the favorite proposal.
but when the question arose as to who
was to throw it, there were no answers
in the first person.
The miller finally suggested rolling
heavy stone off the roof to smash the
thing. Grant people knew nothing of
dynamite, and explosion by conclusion
was not feared. The idea was acted on
and the Squire said that as / had
warned him first 1 should have the
honor of smashing the box. So nv big
brother sat on my legs while leaned
over the edge of the roof and dropped
ten-pound chunk of Trenton Falls sand.
stone on to the box. The stone hit it
square. There was crunch and one
hundred of the best cigars that ever
found their way into Grant were re-
duced to powder. There was an i'm.
porter's blue stamp on the remnant of
the cover and among the ruins were one
hundred red and gold paper bands with
the word "Perfectos" on each.
Ike Masters, who had never smoked
anything but clay pipe and stem clip
pings, was the maddest man in Grant.
He said the squire was coward and
said this unmindful of the fact that he
himself had watched the breaking of
the box from the top of tall pine.
The 'squires influence was gone and
he was defeated for reelection the next
tall by George Stearns, who had studied
law for three months in Scoharie.-
Chicago Tribune.
Never Got So Far.
You say you have played Macbeth"
said anew York theatrical manager to
,.,>1s r. AZ