Published circa 1856 in Boston and composed by "A. Barrel Apples," the song "The wheelbarrow polka" (also known as "The cider polka") was dedicated to Major Ben. Perley Poore.
Poore, a popular journalist in the mid-1800's, made a bet with Col. Robert L. Burbank that former U.S. President Millard Fillmore (of the soon-extinct Whig Party) would win the Presidential election of 1856 (this time running with the American Party of the anti-immigrant, anti-Catholic Know Nothing Movement). The loser had to wheel a barrel of apples from his own home to the winner's home (Poore lived in Newbury, Massachusetts; Burbank in Boston -- 36 miles apart).
Fillmore lost and thus did Poore (James Buchanan won) so he spent over two days on the road pushing an apple cart to Boston while cheered by an audience lining his lengthy route.
A larger version of the image above can be viewed here. If you're interested in the sheet music, it can be viewed here.
Before "the science guy"...
Published in 1894 Philadelphia: "Bill Nye's history of the United States."
Leave it to the U.S. government to boss around a piece of paper.
From a coworker (whose commentary I've paraphrased for the title of this post): A report of the "Committee Appointed to Investigate the State of the Treasury" in 1802: "Report of the Committee appointed to examine and report whether monies
drawn from the Treasury have been faithfully applied to the objects for
which they were appropriated, and whether the same have been regularly
accounted for : and to report likewise whether any further arrangements
are necessary to promote economy, enforce adherence to legislative
restrictions, and secure the accountability of persons entrusted with
public money : April 29, 1802 : read, and ordered to lie on the table."
I'm imagining that was the lenient version. In 1801, a similar report perhaps demanded: "Paper, you must lie on the table, square your corners with the table and allow no edge of yourself to align perfectly with any largely apparent grain of the wood. Also, the table must be made of wood."
I'm imagining that was the lenient version. In 1801, a similar report perhaps demanded: "Paper, you must lie on the table, square your corners with the table and allow no edge of yourself to align perfectly with any largely apparent grain of the wood. Also, the table must be made of wood."
One more reason not to live in a haunted house...
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Dust and lint art by Suzanne Proulx |
I guess "chatterbox" meant "doesn't say much" in the Victorian days...
From 1883, "Baby chatterbox: stories and poems for our little ones, profusely illustrated."
Maybe that bird-flippin' motorist is more virtuous than you thought...
The Library of Congress Classification system includes numbers for a long list of both Christian sins and virtues -- both of which are listed alphabetically.
In the latter, along with the virtues one might quickly guess, such as courage (BV4647.C75), kindness (BV4647.K5), patience (BV4647.P3) and sympathy (BV4647.S9), there are less common terms such as concord (BV4647.C6), filial piety (BV4647.F45) and magnanimity (BV4647.M2).
Amongst the sins, there are idolatry (BV4627.I34), jealousy (BV4627.J43) and lust (BV4627.L8) along with acedia (BV4627.S65), licentiousness (BV4627.L5) and partisanship (BV4627.P3).
Most interesting to me was the final listing in the virtues category: wrath. So, between the road-ragers and those that sit back and take it, the roads are full of the virtuous in the eyes of the Christian God and the Library of Congress... yet full of the sinful at the same time:
Virtues: acquiescence (BV4647.A25) and wrath (BV4647.W7).
Sins: anger/revenge (BV4627.A5/BV4627.R4) and ... well, "blessed are the meek (BV4647.M3), for they shall inherit the earth" (Matthew 5:5).
So I guess the lesson here is to let the road-ragers blow on ahead. Your mom was right. (And you're less likely to get shot.)
In the latter, along with the virtues one might quickly guess, such as courage (BV4647.C75), kindness (BV4647.K5), patience (BV4647.P3) and sympathy (BV4647.S9), there are less common terms such as concord (BV4647.C6), filial piety (BV4647.F45) and magnanimity (BV4647.M2).
Amongst the sins, there are idolatry (BV4627.I34), jealousy (BV4627.J43) and lust (BV4627.L8) along with acedia (BV4627.S65), licentiousness (BV4627.L5) and partisanship (BV4627.P3).
Most interesting to me was the final listing in the virtues category: wrath. So, between the road-ragers and those that sit back and take it, the roads are full of the virtuous in the eyes of the Christian God and the Library of Congress... yet full of the sinful at the same time:
Virtues: acquiescence (BV4647.A25) and wrath (BV4647.W7).
Sins: anger/revenge (BV4627.A5/BV4627.R4) and ... well, "blessed are the meek (BV4647.M3), for they shall inherit the earth" (Matthew 5:5).
So I guess the lesson here is to let the road-ragers blow on ahead. Your mom was right. (And you're less likely to get shot.)
Hitch ye wagons, lass and lad, and your days will be ever joyous!
"The little man and the little maid" is an 1860's children's book of poetry and illustrations regarding courtship and marriage. It just so happened to be in a series of children's books called the "Indestructible Pleasure Books."
Let's go the citrus and butter smorgasbord down in the meadow -- Emerson and Thoreau will be there!
Written by Samuel Gray Ward in 1886 and printed in 1960 by Lyman Butterfield: "Come with me to the feast, or, Transcendentalism in action."
In the parasol and top hat days of pre-DeLorean time machines!
In today's more non-poetic terms: "At 70, though he was a fine worker, he had to retire."
From "Notice of Ezekiel Price, Esquire, Member of the Historical Society" in the "Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society," vol. 8, pg. 85:
"And in these, and many other stations, he acted his part well in society; until that decay, which so often attends the age of three-score years and ten, made it necessary for him to retire to his family."
"And in these, and many other stations, he acted his part well in society; until that decay, which so often attends the age of three-score years and ten, made it necessary for him to retire to his family."
:D / D:
By Oscar Lewis regarding Albert Maurice Bender: "A.M.B.: some aspects of his life and
times, begun in playful mood for his entertainment of his 75th birthday
and now completed for his sorrowing friends as a token of remembrance
and affection."
Born in 1866 and dying 3 1/2 months before his 75th birthday, Bender was an important figure in the San Francisco art world during the 1920s and '30s. Born in Dublin to a German Jewish couple (his father was a rabbi), he immigrated to the U.S. in his teens under the care of his uncle in San Francisco. Another uncle hired him to work in his insurance company and the young Bender eventually became a successful broker.
His cousin, Anne Bremer, a respected San Francisco artist, inspired Bender to begin collecting art just as he had collected rare books in his younger years. Focusing his collection primarily on the work of local artists (and art from China, Japan and Tibet), he was also interested in knowing the artists and writers themselves, thus becoming acquainted with many of them. His monetary assistance played a large role in the cultural development of the Bay Area art scene and helped launch careers -- most notably, that of photographer Ansel Adams by financing the publication of his first portfolio and first book.
Additionally, Bender was a prolific donor of artwork to many state galleries, museums and libraries (as well the National Museum of Ireland which received 260 pieces of Asian art in memory of his mother). He was also one of Diego Rivera's first American patrons and co-founder of the Book Club of California. Oscar Lewis, the author of "A.M.B.," was once secretary of the club. A San Francisco writer and historian, Lewis died in 1992 at the age of 99.
Born in 1866 and dying 3 1/2 months before his 75th birthday, Bender was an important figure in the San Francisco art world during the 1920s and '30s. Born in Dublin to a German Jewish couple (his father was a rabbi), he immigrated to the U.S. in his teens under the care of his uncle in San Francisco. Another uncle hired him to work in his insurance company and the young Bender eventually became a successful broker.
His cousin, Anne Bremer, a respected San Francisco artist, inspired Bender to begin collecting art just as he had collected rare books in his younger years. Focusing his collection primarily on the work of local artists (and art from China, Japan and Tibet), he was also interested in knowing the artists and writers themselves, thus becoming acquainted with many of them. His monetary assistance played a large role in the cultural development of the Bay Area art scene and helped launch careers -- most notably, that of photographer Ansel Adams by financing the publication of his first portfolio and first book.
Additionally, Bender was a prolific donor of artwork to many state galleries, museums and libraries (as well the National Museum of Ireland which received 260 pieces of Asian art in memory of his mother). He was also one of Diego Rivera's first American patrons and co-founder of the Book Club of California. Oscar Lewis, the author of "A.M.B.," was once secretary of the club. A San Francisco writer and historian, Lewis died in 1992 at the age of 99.
The rising action, the climax, the dénouement...
By James Antony Syms, three titles published in the 1980's which document not only the churches of Kent, England, but leave no doubt of the author's passion for his subject:
"Kent country churches: a personal exploration"
"Kent country churches continued: an undiminished infatuation"
"Kent country churches concluded: the end of an account"
"Kent country churches: a personal exploration"
"Kent country churches continued: an undiminished infatuation"
"Kent country churches concluded: the end of an account"
It's a little too late to be asking that question...
By Barrett Wendell, a paper read before the Essex Institute on Feb. 29, 1892: "Were the Salem witches guiltless?"
Need a reason to procreate? Just ask Aunt Rachel.
Published by the Massachusetts Sabbath School Society in 1856: "Aunt Rachel's hints, or, How children may be useful."
Too bad Alden didn't go into dentistry...
A collection of some interesting names found during my work: Marmaduke Dallas, Valentine Ball, Charles Wellbeloved, Cecil ffrench Salkeld, and Alden Perley White.
Mr. Parker's motto: "Hard work never killed anyone."
From circa 1911, the 131-page "In sacred memory of William Thornton Parker, Jr., 1876-1900" regards a young Harvard law student who'd graduated MIT with top honors and "scarcely [took] any time for meals and little for sleep" in his pursuit of higher education.
According to news reports at the time of his death, Parker was taking an exam in constitutional law (which he was pursuing as a specialty) when he suddenly "went insane." Hands on his head, he started to scream "Constitutional law!" before his tone became "agonized" and he followed with moans and "unintelligible sentences." He died a few days later.
The reports claimed he perished of "an abscess on the brain" caused by "intense mental strain" -- or "overstudy." Modern belief is that he died of an aneurysm -- which is apparently what was believed at the time by those not seeking juicy headlines: The death notice appearing in the Harvard Crimson mentions neither an "abscess" nor "insanity" as the cause of his demise but, rather, what it very likely was -- a cerebral hemorrhage.
By the way, the title of this post came from a comment on a blog entry about Parker, found here, where you can find reproductions of the newspaper reports as well as a link to the Crimson obituary (which, as one would expect, doesn't hint at all to the dramatic scene that occurred during what could now be humorously referred to as an exam able to drive one to deadly madness).
According to news reports at the time of his death, Parker was taking an exam in constitutional law (which he was pursuing as a specialty) when he suddenly "went insane." Hands on his head, he started to scream "Constitutional law!" before his tone became "agonized" and he followed with moans and "unintelligible sentences." He died a few days later.
The reports claimed he perished of "an abscess on the brain" caused by "intense mental strain" -- or "overstudy." Modern belief is that he died of an aneurysm -- which is apparently what was believed at the time by those not seeking juicy headlines: The death notice appearing in the Harvard Crimson mentions neither an "abscess" nor "insanity" as the cause of his demise but, rather, what it very likely was -- a cerebral hemorrhage.
By the way, the title of this post came from a comment on a blog entry about Parker, found here, where you can find reproductions of the newspaper reports as well as a link to the Crimson obituary (which, as one would expect, doesn't hint at all to the dramatic scene that occurred during what could now be humorously referred to as an exam able to drive one to deadly madness).
Hope the sign on the other side of the building wasn't "Restaurant."
In 1890, the fifth annual report was published for the Dublin Home for Starving and Forsaken Cats.
Even the mail was into disco.
From the Feb. 1979 issue of Yankee Magazine, an article about greeting cards and "postal cards" written by Robert L. Berthelson: "Cards with a flip, wiggle, and a twist."
X marks the spot
By Francis X. Clement and published in Boston Post Magazine, Sept. 20, 1953: "Out, damned spot! : Marblehead man invents machine that analyzes 150 stains, giving clues to proper treatment."
"Please, place your right hoof on the Bible."
A fellow coworker used to keep a list of interesting titles on the wall in our former office. One of them was "The Criminal Prosecution and Capital Punishment of Animals."
Published in 1906, the book was no joke--until the 1700's (possibly the 1800's), non-human creatures were occasionally (though not at all rarely) brought to trial in Europe. Thus, courtroom defendants (in both church and secular courts) were sometimes common pests such as rats and snails, as well as domesticated animals, such as horses and dogs.
But especially the pig. History of non-human criminal sentencing is rather rife with records of swine execution for criminal acts. In fact, the first known animal trial was that of a pig near Paris accused of killing a child and sentenced by monks to public burning. Another pig, also convicted of killing a child, was killed in snout-for-a-snout manner in the town square--executed in the same way it had "murdered" its alleged victim.
But not all the non-human executions were put on public display. Just as for humans at the time, though many were sentenced to burn at the stake, some were doomed to live burial, some to "knocks on the head," and others to imprisonment and subjection to the rack.
The latter practice is a good example of how humans and non-humans were treated equally in trial and prosecution--for though judges knew that non-human beasts could not utter the confession normally expected from a trip to the rack, the gears of justice were sworn to turn no differently for any defendant--human or otherwise.
The belief that non-human creatures lack a moral judgment that thus excludes them from the ability to commit murder or engage in criminal damage of property with the same awareness of a human is a common modern notion. But for the many centuries that non-humans (and even some corpses and inanimate objects) were tried and executed for alleged crimes, beliefs and understanding of the world were quite different in some ways than in most of today's modern cultures.
For one thing, there was a wide belief in "familiar spirits"--supernatural entities thought to aid witches and others in the practice of magic (whether "good" or "evil"). These intelligent spirits were believed to have the ability to manifest themselves in different forms--including that of humans. Perhaps that's why the aforementioned sow executed in the town square was first dressed in human clothes.
But it's more likely that the poor, persecuted pig was simply born in the wrong place at the wrong time--when humans and non-humans were believed more equal in some ways than they are now. Sadly, where we met eye-to-eye was in a position of potential eye-for-an-eye punishment.
But the belief of human/non-human equality lives on in some. Thankfully, in more reverent ways. For instance, when Charles Baudelaire conjured in verse the image of a cat as a "familiar spirit" of its home, he was merely expressing admiration in a way similar to Jean Cocteau's later quote that cats eventually become a home's "visible soul."
Speaking of Cocteau, he had another quote that reminds me a little of this topic: "An artist cannot speak about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture." Just as a cow that has broken your fence can moo neither a plea of "guilty" nor "not guilty."
Published in 1906, the book was no joke--until the 1700's (possibly the 1800's), non-human creatures were occasionally (though not at all rarely) brought to trial in Europe. Thus, courtroom defendants (in both church and secular courts) were sometimes common pests such as rats and snails, as well as domesticated animals, such as horses and dogs.
But especially the pig. History of non-human criminal sentencing is rather rife with records of swine execution for criminal acts. In fact, the first known animal trial was that of a pig near Paris accused of killing a child and sentenced by monks to public burning. Another pig, also convicted of killing a child, was killed in snout-for-a-snout manner in the town square--executed in the same way it had "murdered" its alleged victim.
But not all the non-human executions were put on public display. Just as for humans at the time, though many were sentenced to burn at the stake, some were doomed to live burial, some to "knocks on the head," and others to imprisonment and subjection to the rack.
The latter practice is a good example of how humans and non-humans were treated equally in trial and prosecution--for though judges knew that non-human beasts could not utter the confession normally expected from a trip to the rack, the gears of justice were sworn to turn no differently for any defendant--human or otherwise.
The belief that non-human creatures lack a moral judgment that thus excludes them from the ability to commit murder or engage in criminal damage of property with the same awareness of a human is a common modern notion. But for the many centuries that non-humans (and even some corpses and inanimate objects) were tried and executed for alleged crimes, beliefs and understanding of the world were quite different in some ways than in most of today's modern cultures.
For one thing, there was a wide belief in "familiar spirits"--supernatural entities thought to aid witches and others in the practice of magic (whether "good" or "evil"). These intelligent spirits were believed to have the ability to manifest themselves in different forms--including that of humans. Perhaps that's why the aforementioned sow executed in the town square was first dressed in human clothes.

But the belief of human/non-human equality lives on in some. Thankfully, in more reverent ways. For instance, when Charles Baudelaire conjured in verse the image of a cat as a "familiar spirit" of its home, he was merely expressing admiration in a way similar to Jean Cocteau's later quote that cats eventually become a home's "visible soul."
Speaking of Cocteau, he had another quote that reminds me a little of this topic: "An artist cannot speak about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture." Just as a cow that has broken your fence can moo neither a plea of "guilty" nor "not guilty."
But they party hardy at the demise of the ne'er-do-well...
The title of a 1703 sermon preached at the funeral of Col. John Pynchon: "Gods frown in the death of usefull men."
An important study in the cultural significance of the archetypal dogs playing poker.
By William Secord, "Dog Painting, 1840-1940: The Social History of the Dog in Art."
All in the family ... except for that Bryce guy.
From 1919, "The diary of James Gallatin: secretary to Albert Gallatin, a great peace maker, 1813-1827," edited by Count Gallatin, with an introduction by Viscount Bryce.
Not autobiographical, I hope...
First performed in 1962, by American playwright Arthur L. Kopit: "Oh, Dad, poor Dad, Mamma's hung you in the closet and I'm feelin' so sad: [subtitled] a pseudo-classical tragi-farce in a bastard French tradition."
The play was produced as a movie (of the same name) that premiered in 1967 with Rosalind Russell, Robert Morse and Barbara Harris.
You can watch the movie at Dailymotion (though it seems there may be some audio issues...).
The play was produced as a movie (of the same name) that premiered in 1967 with Rosalind Russell, Robert Morse and Barbara Harris.
You can watch the movie at Dailymotion (though it seems there may be some audio issues...).
He's already down...
Title of a late-1800's play: "Hit him, he has no friends."
(Similar to the title of a late-1800's song by Clay M. Greene, Esq.: "Hit him again, he's got no friends!" Note the triple T's in the publisher's name near the bottom of the sheet music cover page. Typo or showmanship?)
(Similar to the title of a late-1800's song by Clay M. Greene, Esq.: "Hit him again, he's got no friends!" Note the triple T's in the publisher's name near the bottom of the sheet music cover page. Typo or showmanship?)
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