The Frankfort roundabout. [volume] (Frankfort, Ky.) 1882-1908, 1906-02-17

of the farm house where two win
dows, high up, looked down from
either side the stone chimney.
Crutcher sang sweetly something
about the starry night and "love
lies droaming,' while flute and
guitar solos. and combined pieces
We're rendered for an hour in great
style.
At the conclusion. an old negro
NANNY appeared, invited them to
come into the dining room and
take something. Said it was always
tine way when young gentlemen
serenaded. Accepting the invita-
ton, they found cherry bounce,
cake and other good things in album
dance. A fter eating heartily, Tay-
Tor said: "well, how did the young
ladies like the serenade?'''
son, bless yer soul, honey re-
piled the old black nanny, "dey
amt here. Went over to Mars
! BedfOrd's dis mornin' early and
aint come back yit." At this apal-
ling revelation, silence fell on the
company, disgust unspeakable
oversprcad their featurcs-"all that
fine music TO a lot Of niggers, and
then eat things they set OUT = sort
of funeral procession wendell its
way back to the city, though the
"calf-et" performer now and then
tried in vain to provoke a smile.
Probably few sensational affairs
have lived longer in the memory of
the older citizens than the Crutch-
er-Tate mimic murder and cannon
episodes. Touching the first Incl
dent, Charley Featherston was
doing carpenter work in the back
yard of the Mansion House, next
door to the now Mcclure establish
ment. Dick Tate was clerk in
the postof'ice and John Crutcher
was clerk for the late VIM. NJ.
Todd, whose store was that now
/ occupied by Mcclure. Seeing
Featherston saving boards on the
opposite side and close to the plank
fence between the yards. Tate and
Crutcher Matched u murder plan.
/ The day was hot. Featherston
had off coat and vest as he sawed
away, his hack to the fence, his
shirt crawled towards his shout
ders, exposing the bare skin. Tate
loaded big syringe to the muzzle
with ice water. Crutcher filed
and primed with powder "a horse
pistol he had borrowed from the
arsenal. Noiselessly approaching
where FeatherstOn was at work,
they found an opportune crack in
the fence, close to the unsuspecting
victim, for the point of the syringe.
At signal, chang" went the pis-
toll, and "chug" went the water
against Featherston's bare back.
the effect was startling. Dropping
his saw, Featherston fell to the
ground, crying murder, 1 am
killed."
= Other wOrkmen ran up. Tie
news spread that Featherston had
been assassinated-shOt from be-
hind the fence. Crowds gathered.
Doctors were summoned. Stand
ing over the PROSTATE man. with
scores now pressing around, all
wild with excitement. One of the
do ctors asked him where he was
shot. "Clear through the back.
don't you see the blood" he
groaned in reply. Turning him
over. the doc tor said gruffiy, don't
see any hole-don't see any blood
shirt and back wet with water"
Then the joke dawned on the
crowd. They laughed, then
whooped and yelled. Featherston
got up. He was full of anger. He
got pistol. The planner of the
joke was as good as dead if he
found him. but he never found out
the perpetrators till years after, for
Crutcher and Tate never talked
until his good humOr replaced the
resentment.
Gen. CerrO Gordo Williams
brouOht home n dismouutpd cam