The Barnwell people-sentinel. (Barnwell, S.C.) 1925-current, December 23, 1937, Image 3
\
Tht Banwell
BanwelL 8. Cm Tkanday,
23, 1937
ADVENTURERS’ CLUB
headlines from the lives
of PEOPLE LIKE YOURSELFI
, • “A Battle With Steel"
.By FLOYD OmBONS
Famous Headline Hon ter
TTELLO EVERYBODY:
A 1 You know, boys and girls, I used to say we had all
kinds of people sending in their adventures to this column.
“The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker," is the way
the old saying goes, and that’s literally true. Here, for in
stance, is the baker—Joseph A. McMurtrie of Newark, N. J.
Joe was a baker’s apprentice when this thing happened to him. It
was the summer of 1&29, and Joe, trying to turn his school vacation into
something useful, had sigfred up to learn the baker’s trade in a pie and
cake factory. It was the sort of job that caught Joe’s interest and like
most youngsters, he was anxious to find out just how things were done.
He studied the routine of the plant closely, watched the bakers at their
work, and monkeyed around with all the big machines in the plant.
The machines, especially, interested Joe. He never missed an
opportunity to get a look at the inside of one, to find out how it
worked. He didn’t get a chance to do that often, though. Some of
those machines were dangerous. Most machines are, anyway—to
anyone who doesn’t know how to use them. And the bosses around
the plant didn’t encourage Joe to fool around with those big
mixers. '
One Saturday afternoon, though, Joe got the chance he had been
waiting for. The boss came to him about 4 o’clock and told him that all
the bakers were going home—that Joe, whom he was leaving alone in
the store, would be in complete charge until closing time.
He Investigated a Big Mixer.
Joe didn’t mind a bit. He sat out front in the store until everybody had
gone, and then, along about 6 o’clock, when people were eating dinner and
business in the store had dwindled off to nothing, he began to think
about the machinery in the back room—particularly the big mixers which
he had been told not to touch.
Joe went into the back room and straight to the biggest of those mix
ers. He opened the top—looked inside. There was a crate of eggs in it—
liit
Joe Was Being Drawn Into the Machine.
lying right on top of the machinery. He took it out, wondering, at the
same time, why anyone would put a crate of eggs—crate and all—into
a dough mixer. He found out later that it had been put there for the par
ticular purpose of keeping him out of that machine. But by the time
he did find out the damage was done and it was too late.
Joe took the crate out of the mixer and looked inside. The machine
hadn't been cleaned out. All the moving parts were covered with some
sort of goo, and Joe couldn’t see how they worked. Well—that problem
was easily solved. He'd clean that mixer out himself. He got a big
towel and scraper and went to work.
Couldn’t Get His Hand Loose.
There was a big rotator inside and Joe started cleaning that.
He cleaned half of it and then found he couldn’t reach the other
side, so he started the motor to turn it over. The motor whirred.
Joe released the brake. The rotator began to move, and then—
it happened!
As Joe released the brake with his left hand, he placed his right—for
some unknown reason—on top of the rotator. And in a split second he
found himself being drawn into the machine. “Something,” says Joe,
“was clutching my hand. I tried to work it loose, but I couldn’t A cold,
stinging pain was shooting up my arm. That steel had a chill in it.”
Joe’s left hand was still loose, wd with it he jammed on the brake
again. But the motor was still running, straining against the brake with
a peculiar sort of whine—like the sound of an electric fan when you
hold the blade.
“It was dark in that back room,” says Joe, “and I noticed
that my hand and arm were getting awfully cold. 1 locked the
brake and put my left hand into the machine to try and work
the right one loose. I felt something wet and pulled my left hand
out again. It was covered with blood.
Thought He Was Bleeding to Death.
“Then I began to get hysterical I tugged with all my might and
started to yell for help. I was standing on my toes all this time. I
couldn't set my feet flat on the ground, because the weight of my body
would tear at my now terribly painful hand. I thought of being held in
that position over the week-end—of slowly bleeding to death. I began
to shout some more.”
In the Y. W. C. A. building that stood back to back with the bakery a
woman heard Joe’s frantic yells. She caUed them to the attention of an
other woman, and they decided that it was just some chUdren playing.
And Joe, bleeding and hysterical tugged at his swollen, lacerated arm.
Slowly he was lapsing into unconsciousness when he heard a noise in
the store outside. Joe tried to call His voice wouldn’t work. Then
everything went black.
Joe came to in a hospital, and there they told him how he got there.
The customer who had come into the store had looked through the door
and seen Joe hanging to the side of the machine. She called an
ambulance and—well—it had taken three hours to get Joe out. But his
hand was fixed up all right at the hospital and it’s as good as new today
Copyright.—WNU Service.
Horseshoe and Good Luck
According to Brewer’s Dictionary
of Phrase and Fable the legend that
a horseshoe brings good luck is sup
posed to have originated with St
Dunstan, who was noted for his skill
in shoeing horses. One day Satan
himself is said to have appeared
and demanded that his “single
hoof’ should be shod. St. Dunstan,
recognizing his customer, tied him
tightly to the wall and proceeded to
do as he was bid, but purposely in
flicted so much pain that his Sa
tanic Majesty begged for mercy.
Thereupon St. Dunstan released his
captive after having extracted from
him a promise that he would never
enter a place where a horseshoe
was displayed. Thus reads the leg
end. And so, for many centuries,
observes a writer in the New Yrok
Herald Tribune, the horseshoe has
been looked upon as a charm
against evil and a bringer of good
fortune. At one time it was affixed
to the front door of the house as a
protection against witches. Lord
Nelson caused one to be nailed to
the mast of his flagship the Victory
and, today, we still And this emblem
of good luck installed in many
homes.
Romans in Chins
Blakeslee’s “China aiM the Far
East” mentions that from some
cause which may be neither under
stood nor explained, commercial and
friendly missions between the Em
peror of China and the heads of
various Asiatic and European states
first were dispatched at about the
beginning of the Christian era. In
the year 61 A. D., the Chinese em
peror sent an envoy to the west for
teachers and books of the true re
ligion, but this envoy, dreading the
hardships and perils of the deserts,
deflected his course to the south, to
India, and returned with Buddhist
writings and priests. In 126 A. D., a
Chinese general reached the valley
of the Caspian sea and carried the
grapevine back to China. In 163
A. D.,the Roman Emperor Marcus
Aurelius Antoninus (An-Tun in Chi
nese annals) sent an embassy by sea
to Kattigora in Cochin-China to pro
cure the rich silks made by the peo
ple of the empire. The Roman mer
chants traveled Inland to Lo Yang.
A later Roman expedition to China
in the reign of Theodosius, in the
Eighth century, led to the culture of
the silkworm in Europe.
December 25,1862, Was a Day of
Truce Along the Rappahannock
On That Christmas Day, 75 Yaars Ago, Blua-Clad "Yank" and Gray-Garbed "Johnny Reb,"
Forgetting the Recent Horror of Fredericksburg, Declared an Unofficial Armistice, and
Met Between the Lines for a Friendly Exchange of Food and Other Gifts.
e Western Newspaper Union.
Wjw * SUNDAY
1 SCHOOL
LESSON-:-
By REV. HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST,
Dean ot the Moody Bible Institute
ol Chicago.
e Western Newepaper Union.
■M*
•* ' _
(From a picture la
CHRISTMAS DAT ON THE RAPPAHANNOCK
“Dram-Beat of the Nation” by Charles Carlston Coffin, Courtesy, Harper and Brothers, publishers.)
By
ELMO SCOTT WATSON
EARTH,
good will
peace;
toward
men.’
What an ironical sound that
phrase must have to the man
who, on December 25, finds
himself wearing the uniform
of the common soldier and
engaged in war!
Perhaps, somewhere “on
earth’’ there is “peace.’’ But,
he tells himself bitterly, it
isn’t here where he and his
comrades in arms are dem
onstrating their “good will
toward men’’ by trying to
blast the spark of life from
those men across the lines,
who happen to be wearing a
different uniform and holding
allegiance to a different flag.
He realizes, of course, that he
ought to hate those fellows over
there and that he is doing noth
ing more than his “soldierly du
ty” in trying to kill them. And
yet, somehow ... on Christmas
Day . . .
But let Private John R. Pax
ton, a “boy in blue” in the Army
of the Potomac, speak for all
such men.
The Army of the Potomac, dis
heartened by its many defeats
and the incompetency of its com
manders, is resting upon the Fal
mouth hills in Maryland. Across
the Rappahannock is Gen. Rob
ert E. Lee’s Confederate army
which, only two weeks earlier,
had hurled General Burnside’s
blue-clad hosts back down the
bloody slopes of Fredericksburg
with such fearful losses. It is
Christmas day, 1862.
Private Paxton is speaking now
—(through the pages of Charles
Carleton Coffin’s book, “Drum-
Beat of the Nation.”) He says:
“So this is war. And I am out here to
ahoot that lean, lank, coughing cadaver
ous-looking butternut fellow over the
river. So this is WAR; this Is being a
■oldier . . . Hello. Johnny, what are you
up to?”
The river was narrow hut deep and
swift. It wss a wet cold, not a freez
ing cold. There was no Ice, too swift
for that.
“Hello. Johnny, what you coughing ao
for?”
“Yank, with no overcoat, shoes full of
holes, nothing to eat but parched corn
and tobacco, and with this denied
Yankee snow a foot deep, there la noth
in' left. NOTHIN' but to get up a
cough by way of protestin’ against this
Infernal Ill-treatment of the body. We-
uns, Yank, all have a cough over here,
and there's no sayln' which will run us
Into the hole first, the cough or your
bullets.’’
The snow still fell, keen winds, raw
and fierce, cut to the bone. It was God's
worst weather. In God’s forlomest.
bleakest spot of ground, that Christmas
day of '62 on the Rappahannock, a half-
mile below the town of Fredericksburg.
But come, pick up your prostrate pluck,
you shivering private. Surely there is
enough dampness around without add
ing to It with your tears.
“Let's laugh, boys.”
“Hello, Johnny."
"Hello, yourself. Yank.”
"Merry Christmas, Johnny.”
“Same to you, Yank.”
“Say. Johnny, got anything to trade?”
“Parched com and tobacco—the size
of our Christmas, Yank."
“All right; you shall have some of
our coffee and sugar and pork. Bovs,
find the boats.”
Such boats! Some Yankee, desperately
hungry for tobacco. Invented them for
trading with the Johnnies. They were
hid sway under the banks of the river
for successive relays of pickets.
We got out the boats. An old handker
chief answered for a sail. We loaded
them with coffee, sugar, pork, act the
sail, and watched them slowly creep to
the other shore.
And the Johnnies? To see them crowd
the bank and push and scramble to be
first to seize the boats, going Into the
water and stretching out their long
arms! Then when they pulled the boats
ashore, and stood In s group over the
cargo, and to hear their exclamations
"Hurrah for hog!" “Say. that's not roast
ed rye, but genuine coffee.” “Smell it
you-uns. And sugar, too!"
Then they divided the consignment
They laughed and shouted. “Reckon
you-uns been good to we-uns this Christ
mas day. Yanks.” Then they put parched
com, tobacco, ripe persimmons, into the
boats, and sent them back to us. And
we chewed the parched com, smoked
real Virginia leaf, ate persimmons
which, if they weren’t very filling, at
least contracted our stomachs to the
aiu o( our Christmas dinner.
And so the day passed. We shouted,
“Merry Christmas, Johnny." They shout
ed, “Same to you, Yank.” And we for
got the biting wind, chilling cold; we
forgot those men over there were our
enemies, whom It might be our duty to
shoot before evening.
We had bridged the river, spanned
the bloody chasm. We were brothers,
not foes, waving salutations of good will
in the name of the Babe of Bethlehem,
on Christmas day In '82. At the very
front of the opposing armies the Christ
Child struck s truce for us—broke down
the wall of partition, became our peace.
We exchanged gifts. We shouted greet
ings back and forth. We kept Christ
mas, and our hearts were lighter for It.
our shivering bodies not so cold.
Nor were Private Paxton and
his comrades the only soldiers
along the Rappahahnock who
thus “kept Christmas” in 1862.
In Frank Moore’s collection ot
“Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents
of the War; North and South,
1860-1865” (published in 1866) you
will find a story headed “A Singu
lar Incident,” which reads:
^ A soldier, writing from his camp near
Fredericksburg, narrated the following,
which occurred while he was on picket
duty with his company:
It was Christmas day and after par
taking of a Christmas dinner of salt junk
and hard tack our attention was at
tracted by a rebel picket who hailed us
from the opposite side of the river.
“I say, Yank, if a fellow goes over
there, will you let him come back
again?”
Receiving an affirmative answer, he
proceeded to test the truth of It by
paddling himself across the river. He
was decidedly the cleanest specimen of
a rebel I had seen. In answer to a
question, he said be belonged to the
a quick trip across the Rappahannock.
Night came on and those not on duty
lay down on the frozen ground to dream
of other Christmas nights when we knew
not of war.
As the war dragged on its
weary length, such armistices,
inspired first by the spirit of
Christmas in the winter of 1862,
became increasingly common.
This was especially true during
the siege of Petersburg in the
winter of 1864, as witness the fol
lowing from H. Clay Trumbull’s
“War Memories of an Army
Chaplain”:
A man on one side or the other would
hold up prominently a white handker
chief, or a sheet of white paper, as a
sign of a desire for a tacit or Informal
truce. If It were responded to by a simi
lar sign on the opposite side and was
not at once forbidden by the officer In
command it was accepted by all as bind
ing.
Often at such times the men would
Jump over their rifle pits, or embank
ments, and meet each other peacefully
between the lines, swapping coffee, of
which the Union soldiers had an abun
dance, for tobacco, with which the Con
federates were well supplied; exchang
ing newspapers, bartering “hard tack”
for corn cake, conversing pleasantly, or
bantering each other with good-natured
references to their local peculiarities.
Sometimes two opponents would sit down
for a friendly game of cards.
A fine sense of honor prevailed In the
general recognition o( the sacredness of
these informal and tacit truces. Men
would not' Are at each other, at the
close of one of these seasons, until both
parties had had time to settle down to
business again. If. on any occasion,
an officer seemed to lack consideration
WINTER SPORT IN A CONFEDERATE CAMP
(From an Illustration la “Battles and Leaden of the Civil War,” Courtssy, tha
Century Company.)
Georgia Legion. One of our boys re
marked, “I met quite a number of your
boys at South Mountain.”
“Yes, I suppose so. if you were there,”
said the rebel, hit voice growing very
sad. "We left many of our boys there.
My brother, poor Will, was killed there.
It was a hot place for a while and we
had to leave it In a hurry.”
“That’a ao, Georgia, your fellows
fought well there and had all the ad
vantage. but the old Keystone boys were
pressing you hard. By the way, I have
a likeness here (taking it out of his
pocket), that I picked up on the battle
field next morning and I have carried it
ever aince.” He handed It to the rebel,
who, on looking at it, pressed it to his
lips exclaiming, “My mother! my moth
er!”
He exhibited considerable emotion at
the recovery of the picture, but on the
recovery of his composure, said that
his brother had it in his possession, and
must have lost It In the fight. He then
asked the name of the one to whom he
was Indebted for the lost likeness of his
mother, remarking, "There may be bet
ter times soon and we may know each
other better.”
He had taken from his pocket a small
pocketbook in which to write the ad
dress, when Alex—who had taken no
part in the conversation—fairly yelled,
"I know that book, I lost It at Bull
Run!"
"Thar's whar I got It, Mr. Yank.”
said the rebel, and he handed It to
Alex.
“I am much obliged to you, Mr. Geor
gia Legion. 1 would not part with it
for the whole of the Southern Confed
eracy.”
I was a little curious to know some
thing further of the book, so I asked
Alex to let me see It. He passed It to
me. I opened it, and on the flyleaf was
written in a neat hand. "My Christmas
Gift, to Alex , December 25, 1860.
Ella."
“Well, Alex," said I, “It's not often
one has the same gift presented to him
a second time.” (
"True, Captain; and If I could but see
the giver of that gift today, there's but
one other gift I would want."
"What's that, Alex?"
"This rebellion played out and my
discharge in my pocket."
The boys had all been busy talking
to our rebel friend, who, seeing a horse
man approaching In the direction of hit
post, bid us a hasty good-by, and mada
for those who were on such friendly
terms, his men were quite likely to feel
that their "friends, the enemy" ought
to be notified of the fact.
"Yanks, keep your heads under today.
We’ve got an officer of the day on who
wants us to be firing all the time, ao
look out."
One evening at the Petersburg front,
several Confederate soldiers dragged a
man of our brigade Into their lines, at
the close of one of these seasons of
truce; and they took him as a prisoner
Into the presence of their commander,
Gen. Roger A. Pryor of Virginia. The
Union soldier protested and told his
story.
General Pryor turned to his men and
asked If this wss the truth. When they
admitted It was. he said quietly to our
man: "Go back, then, to your own
lines," and he added to the captors:
“Let him go back. I don't want any
thing of this sort In my command."
On one occasion, before Petersburg, a
Union regiment from Maryland, serving
with our brigade was over against a Con
federate regiment from the tame state.
During one of these tacit truces, as the
men of the two brigades were together
between the lines of works, a father in
the Maryland Union regiment met his
son, a soldier in the Maryland Confed
erate regiment.
The meeting was a surprise to both
but it was an amicable one. Each sol
dier had been true to his own convic
tions. They greeted each other affec
tionately and talked together until the
signal came for the ending of the truce
when they sprang apart, each to his
own lines, and again they were over
against each other In deadly conflict.
It is not difficult to understand
why the Union and Confederate
soldiers during the Civil war
should have celebrated Christ
mas with an unofficial armistice.
For they were men of the same
blood, the same language, the
same traditions and not infre
quently, as in the case of the
two Maryland soldiers, bound to
gether by the ties of family re
lationship. So it was easy for the
spirit of Christmas to effect itf
magic upon them.
Lcmoh ror December 26
CHRISTIAN CONSECRATION
LESSON TEXT—PhlllppUns 1:12-28.
GOLDEN TEXT—For to me to Uve is
Christ, and to die Is gain.—PhUlpplans
1:21.
PRIMARY TOPIC-Our Best Friend.
JUNIOR TOPIC—Answering Jesus.
INTERMEDIATE AND SENIOR TOP
IC—Choosing a Life Purpose.
YOUNG PEOPLE AND ADULT TOP-
IC—What Christian Surrender Means.
Consecration is one of the words
expressing Christian truth which
has been so much used and so often
misused that it has lost its savor.
The writer remembers many a
‘consecration service” which meant
nothing to those present except the
fulfilling of a certain formula or
program. The purpose of the meet
ing was excellent, but results were
lacking because if had become a
mere formality.
Paul the apostle knew nothiug of
any theory of consecration. He knew
and lived and proclaimed such an
abandonment of self to Christ and
his cause as really required no
statement in words—it was his life.
We close today a three-month se
ries of studies in the Christian life.
We began at the right point by con
sidering "Christian Sonship,” for no
one can live until he is born and
no one can live a Christian life un
til he is born again. We have con
sidered together God’s grace in
keeping, renewing, guiding, blessing
and communing with his own. All
these precious truths call us to de
vote ourselves to Christ in glad and
full consecration.
Men give themselves thus to the
building of a fortune, to the prop
agation of a political or social the
ory, to the pursuit of an occupation
or profession. The lights burn late
in the research laboratory of the
scientist, in the counting room of the
business man, and at the political
or social gathering. Why should not
the Christian give himself in like
measure for Christ and his holy
cause?
Paul, in the verses of our lesson,
shows that spirit and boldly de
clares that he follows Christ re
gardless of trying circumstance—he
does so now, "in the body,” not
later in glory. And it matters not
whether it be by life or death—
“Christ shall be magnified.”
I. “What Then?” (v. 18).
Paul, was imprisoned for the gos
pel’s sake. Did that stop him? no;
he made the very guards who were
assigned to watch him in his house
into missionaries of the cross. He
won each one as he took his desig
nated period of service and sent
him out as a testimony to "the
whole praetorian guard and to all
the rest” <v. 13 R. V.). What a con
sistent and glowing Christian life he
must have lived day by day.
Then, some of his Christian asso
ciate* taking advantage of the fact
that he was imprisoned, went out
to preach just to show that they
were as good as he. They made
their very preaching an expression
of their envy of his popularity and
hoped to heap more sorrow upon
him. Did he get angry and bitterly
fight back? No; be thanked God
that Christ was preached. We need
more of that spirit in our day.
n. “In My Body.”
One of the glaring fallacies of hu
man thinking is the idea that at
some favorable time in the future
we shall be able to enjoy life, do
mighty deeds or serve the Lord.
For example parents fail to enjoy
their children because they are al
ways looking forward to the next
stage of their development The
time to enjoy and help our children
is now. The time to serve the Lord
Je*us is now. The day will come
when we shall be glorified with
him, but it will then be too late to
speak to our neighbors about Christ
It is in the body that we are to
serve him and to glorify bis name.
III. “To Live Is Christ and to Die
Is Gain” (v. 21).
Humanly speaking when a matter
is one of “life or death” it is a
question whether death may not in
tervene. The hope is that this may
not be the case and every effort is
made to prevent it How different
with Paul. He rightly points out
that to a Christian death means
entering into perfect fellowship with
Christ and unlimited service for
him. Every human limitation will
then be put aside—knowledge, serv
ice. communion, will all be perfect
and complete.
He would not, however, turn away
from his present privilege and duty.
Since it is God’s will that he should
abide in the flesh he will do it in
such a way as to make it literally
true that to him "to live is Christ"
Every life has a purpose and that
ruling passion which controls and
directs a life is what should be
written into the sentence, “To me
to live is . . . .’’ What is it—money,
position, pleasure, sin? Or is it
Christ? If he is your life, then
you enter into the New Year with
the assurance that it will be full and
satisfying, and gloriously useful
False Accusation
A false accuser is a monster, a
dangerous monster, ever and in ev
ery way malignant, and ready to
seek causas of complaint—Demos
thenes.
BULBS
ing mrvlcV: B• b‘a' oTrStam?O
Initials on Linens
Stamp You as Chic
It’* smart to “bo personal”
when marking linens, for tosrOls,
pillow slips, sheets and even per
sonal “dainties” make known
your ownership when embroidered
with your very own initials. These
ere quickly worked in single stitch
*"1
Pattern Utt.
and French knots, either in a
bination of colors or the same col
or throughout. Pattern 1553 con
tain* a transfer pattern of an Al
phabet 2tt inches high, two 1ft
inches high and one % inch high;
information for placing fairiBhi
and monograms; illustrations of
all stitches used.
Send 15 cents in stamps or coins
(coins preferred) for this pattern
to The Sewing Circle, Needle-
craft Dept., 82 Eighth Ave., New
York, N. Y.
Please write your name, ad
dress and pattern number plainly.
WoW-P
’■!!
Backward
A high school girl, seated next
to a famous astronomer at n din
ner party, struck up a con versa-
tion with him by aaUng, “What do
you do in life.”
He replied, *T study
omy.”
“Dear me,” said the girl,
ished astronomy last year.”
Eye slowness tf
them less safe as
optometrist’s
uea will Just wink
•m
drivers, la an
9
at
No
Magistrate (n non-motorist)—
The officer has stated that you
used bad language when you were
stopped.
Motorist—Well, you see, I was
in a tantrum at the time.
Magistrate—The make of your
car doesn’t interest me in the
least.
In Figures
Mother-in-law—Why don't you
and Nellie stop scrapping? A man
and his wife should be as one.
Hankins—But we really are 10.
Mother-in-law—How’s that?
Hankins—Well, in Nellie's mind
she’s the one and I’m the naught.
HELP KIDNEYS
To Get Rid ef Acid
and Poiaono— Waste
. Year UdiMya U «.
hr coMUatly SRarf
from Um Mood. If
fmetJoeany
rmore nmm hapvkios, thwa arar ha
Banting, scanty or to* f
notloe may bo a i
or bladdor distar
Yoa moy ooffor _
pocohtoat baodocho, attacks old
sssur” ~
played out.
mediein _
sedate tbaa tm
1 known. Dos Oooa’o
of
A
Doan spill
\VNU—7