Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1899-11-16

Indeed, the probability is that he never
saw it, and the happy description is
result of his own or Mrs. Southworth's
imagination. The town has known
little change; the clustering spires still
designate the place to the approaching
traveller. Just now the hills, by
which it has been green-walled all
summer, are bluish-brown and misty
in the distance; the hills on which the
redskin has left his rhythmic name,
Linganore. LInganore was chieftain
OF tribe that once roamed unre-
strained, hunting amid the hills or
fishing in the Monocacy, river of many
bends, that flows slowly in and out,
LAYING the dropping beeches and will
lows that grace its banks. Only a lit
tie further the dashing Linganore
! splashes and leaps to join it as a child
with wild antics bounds to the bosom
of placid mother. Another turn Of
the road that has lea eastward from
|
mill, once noted for Linganore flour,
said to have been the best brand pro-
duced in the state.
The once ceaseless mill has fallen to
decay and the race no longer diverts
the waters of the frothing Linganore.
A ghost is said to come at midnight
and wander, lamp in hand, amid the
ruins, the ghost of the former owner
who one day fell into the dam by the
floodgate. Legend declares that the
old warrior, Linganore, had a beauti-
full daughter, who fell in love with a
white hunter, and died broken
hearted; that she gazes from the water
into the face of every white man who
visits the glen and beckons him down
ward. Perhaps she gazed over the
shoulder of the miller; at any rate he
was found one sunny day dead in the
dam at the head of the race. Above
the dam stands Linganore Inn, sub
stantial brick house, once the home of
the luckless miller, now fianked by
new buildings, the long, wide porches
of which face the beautiful Monocacy
valley and it's far-off boundary OF
mountains.
If our New York friends are still
doubtful as to the variability of Whit
tiers heroine, let them take a trip to
Frederick in clear September morn, or
golden October, or when summer
LOT
ward from the town along the pike,
across the imposing stone bridge, at
ono end of which huge stone bottle
testifies to the fact that the bridge was
erected early in the century by enter
prising citizens of Frederick county,
Just beyond the bridge the traveller
and that a bottle of wine of the best
vintage obtainable is there inclosed.
will find lowered pole barring the
way. One end is weighted by box of
stones. To this massive beam, as a
sort of unimportant attachment, is a
small cottage, on the side of which a
flaring blackboard holds the an
nouncement:
For carriage, IL cents; for horse,
cents; for score Of sheep, cents;
for a score of hogs, sents, ETC.
This is a primitive tollgate, which
the traveller having passed, a turn to
the left brings him to the inn, where
he may rest free from the noises of the
town. In the morning, refreshed, he
may, avoiding the longer way of toll
gate and bridge, plunge hub or stirrup-
deep into the waters of the Monocacy
and axe his way to the town by a
shorter route. Mrs. Abbott will re-
ceive him courteously, and from her
lips he may hear the account as j have
tried to write it; then he may go to
the old burying- ground, and, if the
key is not to be had, he may look
through the gate at the time grayed
stone where poor old Barbara Frietchie
takes her Ions rest. Ii patriotism is
aroused, he may drive out beyond the
city to the beautiful new cemetery and
pausing IL IS center by the monument
of Francis Scott Key, lift his hat to
Old Glory, ripping proudly in the
mountain breeze, and, listening to lis
sweep, murmur: e
20 long may it wave
Ger the land of the free,
And the home of the brave"