Results for ‘LETTERS’
..FROM A FORMER RESIDENT OF WELLAND TO THE TRIBUNE
Oil City, California-Dec. 31, 1903
[People’s Press, 12 January 1904]
Dear Old Tribune:-
Greetings from the land of dust and wind and smoke to the land of cold and storms and snow.
Christmas time always recalls memories of the past, and as the year wanes we think of those dear to us in other climes, and ofttimes wonder if the New Year will give us the pleasure of seeing some of our dear old school mates who are somewhat scattered throughout this great continent.
For the past thirteen years we have welcomed thee in many different parts of Southern California, but never before have we welcomed thy pages with so great pleasure as the year past, which has been out in the great crude oil region of the Kern River, nine miles from Bakersfield, the county seat of Kern County, and where tarantulas, centipedes, trap-door spiders, swifts ( a kind of lizard), stinging crickets, scorpions, spiders of all kinds and ants of all sizes hold high carnival each in its season. I must confess it is slightly wearing to one’s nerves to be ever on the outlook for fear of being bitten or stung by one or the other of the “pests”.
The story of Santa Claus and his eight tiny reindeer with sleigh and jingling bells have no music down here among the barren hills and dust several inches deep, with mercury ranging all winter from 40 to 70 degrees during the day. This year we have had only three frosts up here among the hills, but down along the river everything is frost-bitten.
No rose-kissed zephyr reaches this far from Los Angeles. For Christmas greenery we had a small green artificial tree, other decorations consisted of celery leaves and mistletoe. Yet, for all, we had a pleasant time, for we made the most of our surroundings.
Our little settlement consists of six houses divided into two rooms each, and stand in a row about 12 feet apart. In architectural design they are similar for all are built of rough lumber, battened, with a roof of tarred and graveled paper-windows are a half regular size and slide to open; there are 2 doors and 5 windows to each house. The interior is finished in natural wood and walls and ceiling are covered with a building paper resembling the coarse-brown paper used for wrapping paper. Then, too, it is tacked on and rattles “beautifully” when wind blows so that once in a while a whole section will let loose from the tacks and come down. The Southern Pacific Co. built these houses for some of their employees to live in and had the gall to ask $5.00 per month for rent. Water and natural gas is piped to each house, so for light and fuel we use gas.
We have a very fine neighborhood for what few families are here are all well educated, hence, well behaved.
Stringed instruments furnish music to break up the monotony.
Were a stranger to strike this part of the country during August and September he might imagine with considerable real feeling that he were near the “ warm country,” especially if the thermometer showed the heat to be 130 degrees and several slump holes of oil were burning, spreading great black clouds over the heavens and omitting a gaseous odor. Thank kind providence for such experiences to be few-for as a general rule the smoke from the burning of the waste oil from the holes ascends in columns to a great height before distributing into space.
The sand storms are not very desirable either; but we do have some beautiful weather-not foggy like Pasadena and Los Angeles. It is a beautiful sight to witness the sun rising above the mountains away to the east. I have seen the mountain tops appear as tipped with gold while a sky of pale blue shaded to royal purple with the first glints of Old Sol ever changing the tints spread over head and were reflected in the waters of the river at the foot of tall irregular bluffs about two miles east and southward.
Oil City in its infancy may yet vie with Oil City of Pennsylvania. As now, it is merely the name of the terminus of the branch from the main S.P.R.R.
To those of your readers who have always been in the habit of donning wraps and walking a short distance to see all the pretty Xmas displays , it may interest them to know how a great many do Xmas shopping. First of all it costs $2.50 to get to town just to take a look and then if you have a full purse it is soon relieved when you get inside one of the many department stores of Bakersfield., where you have so many things you must take home. Some prefer to stay at home and give a solicitor from the store who has a “corner” on the oil field trade, an order for toys, etc., which may be what you want and may be different. Turkeys this year sold for 25¢ per lb., live weight. To be sure we had “to have turkey or bust,” as the little fellow said. Eggs, fresh are 45¢ per doz. Just think of that right here in this beautiful California.
I must say too, that all that looks like oil is sometimes soup. All derricks do not indicate oil wells. About 7 miles from here are some derricks without even a hole in the ground and where some English and French investments, besides some nearer home, were sunk. To be sure some one got the “mun.”
I have rambled somewhat from what I intended to write you, but must soon close for the old year is fast dying and I wish to say that may you live long and may the New Year be more prosperous than ever for you.”
Twenty years in March 1904 since I said good-bye to dear old Welland.
A Happy New Year to all. ADIOS
A Jubilee Day in August
[People’s Press, 26 March 1912]
The officers and members of the Welland band received a communication a few days ago from one of the city bands of the State of Pennsylvania, stating it was the intention of the members of that band to make a tour of the states this summer, and they had also decided on visiting a few of the leading places in Canada, and had chosen Welland as one. A meeting of the local band will be held this week, when the visitors will be communicated with and will be invited to be the guests of the Welland band and citizens in general.
Their letter states they would like to come sometime about the latter part of August. It has been suggested that the fire company be asked to join with the band in giving a day of amusement in honor of the visitors to wind up with grand tattoo, fireworks and illumination in the evening with a number of bands and fire companies taking part. Should the Pennsylvania band decide to favor our town with a visit there will be “somethin’ doin’,” and the boys know how to do it. Further particulars later.
More About David Price
By Mrs. A. H. Sternaman, Owosso, Mich.
[Welland Tribune, August 1897]
I am descended from four of the pioneer families of Welland county, namely, Abraham Neff, Michael Gonder and Jacob Morningstar, who were my great grandparents, and David Price, who was my grandfather. Uncle Johnny Price is my own uncle. My mother, Sophia Margaret Price Neff, was his oldest sister, and was the oldest of the family. She was born at old Niagara, February 6th, 1802, and at the time of the war of 1812, she, with her parents, moved to Chippawa Creek or where Welland now is. She was married to John Neff of Wainfleet, December 6th, 1818, and I am their seventh child. About my own and parents’ life, I have not much to write, but it is of my grandfather, David Price’s life, as a prisoner among the Indians that I am going to speak. What Uncle Johnnie has written about is about the same as I have heard my mother relate, with the exception of a few variations which we can overlook, considering his great age.
II
I have often heard my mother say that she never heard her father mention but two circumstances that happened that he remembered of his father. The once instance was when he (grandfather) was about three years old, when his mother sent him and Joseph, his elder brother, to call his father (who was in the clearing chopping) to dinner. When they got to where their father was he had chopped a tree with an owl’s nest in it, so he gave each of the boys an owl to carry to the house. They hadn’t gone far when my grandfather got tired, so he put his owl down so as to rest himself, and when he went to pick it up it would turn and look at him; so he walked around on the other side of it, but it would look at him as before; so he got a stick and hit it and then tried to take it, but it would still look at him; so he kept hitting it until he made it behave as supposed, then he picked it up and followed his father and brother home, they having gone on and left him.
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But He Must Get Someone to Take His Place on the Guard
Volunteer Wanted for Local Duty in Order That Soldier May Go Overseas
[Welland Telegraph, 22 August 1916]
Who will release W.J. Stinson for overseas service? Who will take his place on the Welland canal guard?
Is there a reader of The Telegraph anywhere who while himself unfit for overseas service will join the canal guard and let Stinson go to the front?
The case is explained in the following communications:-
Camp Borden, Aug. 15, 1916
| Louis Blake Duff, Welland, Ont.: Dear Mr. Duff,-I am enclosing a copy of a letter received from the A.A.G.M.D., No. 2, relative to the discharge and re-enlistment of Pte. W.J. Stinson. The story is this: W.J. Stinson has been on the the Welland Guard Force for something like eight months, stationed at Fort Erie. He has made fruitless endeavors to be transferred to an overseas unit and always the reason given is that they could not spare him. Last June he left his detachment at Fort Erie without leave and enlisted in the 213th Bn. He showed himself to be a remarkably good soldier and within two weeks was promoted to the rank of acting corporal. His mother, who lives in Buffalo, then wrote explaining that he was absent from Fort Erie and if he did not return within the time limit would be declared a deserter. Also, the officer commanding the Welland Canal Force wrote demanding the man back. We returned him and made an application to headquarters for his return.
Personally, I have been working on this matter to try and get this man back again. He came here the other day as a recruit and tried to enlist under another name and stated that he was going with the overseas force in spite of everything.
Now, the proposition is, if we can get the Welland Canal Force a man they will give Stinson his discharge. We haven’t got one here to send them and if you printed the story perhaps some one would volunteer to take his place and let him go. He is an American and has a clean conduct record. He is a fine well-built young man and it is a shame to keep him on guard duty when he can do so much better work with the army.
Yours Sincerely,
B.J. McCORMICK
Lieut.-Col., O.C., 213th O.S. Batt., C.E.F. |
Camp Borden, Aug., 9, 1916
From the A.A.G.M.D, No. 2, Camp Borden, Ont., to the Officer Commanding 213th O.S. Bn., C.E.F.
Camp Borden, Ont.:
| Discharge Pte. W.J. Stinson Welland Guard Force
In reply to your recent request for the discharge of the marginally named man from the Welland Canal Force in order that he may be enlisted in your unit:
I have now heard from the camp commandant, Niagara Camp, to the effect that the officer commanding the Welland Canal Force states that this man will be discharged as soon as you send him a man in exchange.
Owing to the fact that the Welland Canal Force requires all the men on their strength, the officer commanding that unit states that is impossible for him at the present time to release this man except on such conditions. As I understand it was your intention to do so, will you be good enough to arrange this matter.
The man at present on your strength will have to be discharged in order to be enlisted on the Welland Canal Force, Pte. Stinson being discharged from that force and then taken on yours.
J. GEORGE
Captain for A.A.G.M.D., No.2 |
Held at Observation Post so Long He Was Reported as a Prisoner-Came Through Without a Scratch but He has a Bullet Hole in his Helmet
[Welland Telegraph, 30 June 1916]
Lieut. Gordon Crow, son of Mayor Crow, who is with the artillery in Ypres sector, writing home under date of June 11 (that’s two weeks ago last Sunday), tells of his lucky escape in the serious engagements of the early part of June when the Germans broke the line. He came through without a scratch, but he has some ventilation in his helmet that he never had before. Lieut. Crow got in a tight corner at his observation post and was so long out before he could return that he was reported as a prisoner.
He writes: “It must be an anxious time for you about this time, and I may send you a cable when this scrap ends. I am due for the trenches again this evening, but if I get out of them 48 hours from now safe and sound I’ll be a lucky boy. But I am bomb-proof and bullet-proof as is proved by experience when the bunch came up to visit me at the observation post and bombed me while observing, also firing with their rifles, and not a scratch. It was the tightest corner I shall ever be in and I was reported as a prisoner for a long while until I got into communication again.
I had a great time scouting after them afterward. You should have seen us crawling along looking for Fritz but he saw me first with the result that I have a fine souvenir in a hole through the cover of my tin helmet. However the main thing is that we discovered Fritz though we haven’t strafed him out yet, but we’ll do it.
This has been a great eleven days since the scrap began and we shall all be glad of a rest and believe that we have earned it. Our men have worked like heroes, and we have been fairly lucky so far as casualties, having had only one fellow killed, just outside our door here. He died almost instantly.
This is the worst scrap than the one of last year, and the casualties are appearing daily and will continue to appear. Canada will be proud of her soldiers for they have stood a bombardment the intensity of which was the greatest yet seen, on the front in the opinion of the experts. I had the good fortune to be up there and come through it and consider myself lucky beyond all measure.
We’re giving the Hun all he wants these days, all day and all night, and I’ll wager he is sick of the ground he took, but he’s a good fighter, especially the Royal Wurtembergers, who are opposite us, and he won’t give up without a struggle, and a mighty one. All honor to our infantry who made the counter attack that were unfortunately unsuccessful. I was up when a certain Hieland battalion went up the slope at the double march, and I tell you it was a sight one will never forget.”
[Welland Tribune, 27 December 1917]
There is no servant of the public whose time is more fully occupied than is that of the newspaper editor. Even in his religion he has to abridge and usually he finds sufficient inspiration of righteousness in three portions of the Gospels, viz, the story of the Birth of Christ, the Sermon on the Mount, and the Crucifixion. In the first he sees the Hand of God presenting mankind with the richest gift even the Almighty can bestow, in the second he finds the highest moral guide with which the world has been blessed, and in the third he finds the consummation of all that awakens the noblest instinct of pity and piety of which the human breast is capable. Though the claims on his time may prevent him from attending service never so irregularly, yet is it with disappointment akin to sorrow when those claims deter him from worship on Christmas Day and Good Friday.
Christmas day of the year 1917 was one of these sad days for a certain editor. An ailment of an excruciatingly painful nature, though we trust temporary, confined him to the house. This is his description of his experience:-
Those who have experienced the ailment by which I was attacked know that, in its extreme severity one’s physical and mental condition varies from feebleness to hysteria. The power of thinking clearly or writing accurately fails, continuity of ideas is broken and all occupation has to be cast aside for the one task of combating the pain.
At one time during the afternoon I stood in my bay window, gripping tightly the back of a chair. As this expenditure of energy somewhat alleviated my pain, there gradually came up a consciousness of being interested in the passers-by. This was the old newspaper instinct, prompting me to make copy out of what I saw through my window, as I was unable to go out and visit the usual sources of Christmas Day news.
I think it was the sight of children that most helped me to forget my pain. My own childhood was a hard one, though I knew it not then, for I was happy despite hardships. Is it unreasonable to believe that this happy unconsciousness of their wrongs is one of the blessings bestowed upon the children of the poor by the Babe that lay in the manger on that day, 1917 years ago, and who when He reached manhood said, :Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven?”
The children I saw from my window were poor, unusually ill-clad for Canadians. Each was carrying a small paper parcel, possibly food, possibly cheap presents they had received from some good charitable soul. The eldest of the bunch of five was not more than seven years of age. All were chattering and all had the air of anticipation of some festivity. A merry bunch of little ones on rejoicing bent.
A moment later a group of three came along. Two were almost babes, each holding the hand of an older child, a pale-faced, delicate girl, who walked between them. It was a case of a Little Mother and her little charge. Poverty and sorrow was depicted on the girl’s face, yet, was she proud of her responsibility, and of the faith and sense of safety the lesser one showed in their “big” sister, who was taking them into some new and wonderful country, perhaps a few hundred yards away from their home.
Meanwhile, going in another direction, a sturdy lad passed the three and they turned and looked solemnly after him. He was blowing discordant blasts from a five cent bugle and enjoying his achievement mightily. He crossed the road, so intent on the blowing of his bugle, he did not see an approaching auto, occupied by a heedless party of adult “joyriders.” The joy-riders in the the car gave no warning, but it chanced that the youngster paused for an instant to admire his instrument. In that instant the car dashed past the bugler at a great speed, and so closely that I held my breath with alarm. Was it the hand of the Babe in the manger that bade the boy pause and thus spared the life of a future soldier for some great service to his country in the years to come?
A stern elderly man was my next passer. He was probably seventy years of age, yet carried himself erect and walked with the step of a soldier. A veteran and an old one, surely. He was dressed to visit some brother veteran, to fight their battles over again, and there was that in his face which said, woe betide those who may dare to tell me the old brigade were not as heroic as the best man somewhere in France today!
A group of foreigners all talking aloud and at once went by. They seemed at a loss to realize what kind of country this is in which they are making their abode. A young couple, dressed in their best, was my next study. The young man was wheeling a perambulator, the occupant of which was well buried in a heap of shawls. There was no mistaking that it was a first born enroute to be proudly exhibited to grandmother.
So the procession proceeded, all intent on some kind of enjoyment of the most precious holiday of the year. Yet, though I watched and waited, no passerby displayed any token of being churchward bent. “Ah,” thought I, “here at last,” as I saw in the distance two figures which I took for Salvation Army men of the citadel. I watched the two figures apparently clad in red vests half hidden by black jackets till they neared my window. They were two skaters, both wearing red, decorated sweaters and carrying their skates across their shoulders. They were not seeking either church or citadel; they were heading for the ice-bound river. Yet, they were two well built, manly youths, with faces the picture of good health.
May it not be that by following their own inclination, and enjoying their good health, this pair were intuitively celebrating the Natal Day in a manner of which the Savior of mankind may approve, as He would surely approve of those little children all enjoying the happiness they best understood.
TO THE TELEGRAPH’S SPECIAL CITYHOOD NUMBER
A NUMBER WORTH KEEPING
[Welland Telegraph, 17 July 1917]
Hamilton Herald
A very handsome and interesting special number of the Welland Telegraph has been issued to celebrate the entrance of Welland into the sisterhood of cities. One of the best features of it is a historical sketch of the Welland canal. This and other historical matter of interest make the special Telegraph number worth keeping.
FIGURES A SURPRISE
St. Thomas Journal
The Welland Telegraph publishes a special edition on the occasion of the town being made a city. The paper contains much information about the rise and progress of the latest addition to the sisterhood of cities and gives evidence that it will be a creditable newspaper representative of Welland City. The Telegraph gives some statistics that may surprise some people. Take, for instance, the following example of the increase in the value of its manufacturing products:
| 1906 |
$150,000 |
| 1912 |
6,500,000 |
| 1915 |
13,285,495 |
| 1916 |
19,375,115 |
Total Industrial Pay Rolls For:
| 1906 |
$50,000 |
| 1912 |
1,300,000 |
| 1915 |
2,117,618 |
| 1916 |
3,610,336 |
These figures speak eloquently of Welland’s progress.
WELLAND’S CITYHOOD
Stratford Herald
Welland has put on the mantle of cityhood, and Louis Blake Duff, the energetic and capable publisher of The Telegraph, has spread himself nicely on the auspicious occasion. A 16-page issue of The Telegraph on July 3rd presented attractively the high points in the city’s history and the business interests which have produced a real live city. Coming on the golden jubilee date of Confederation, the Welland cityhood celebration had a distinctly patriotic tinge, and The Telegraph’s special number reflects this spirit effectively. Every phase of the Baby City’s expansion is outlined and illustrated, and the issue is worthy of the occasion. We presume the next step will be the changing of The Telegraph from a very creditable semi-weekly to a good daily. Here’s wishing Welland and The Telegraph continued growth and prosperity.
THE CITY OF WELLAND
Peterborough Examiner
Welland, the baby city of the Dominion, is warmly welcomed to the family circle of Canadian cities, of which she became one on July 2nd. The event was formally celebrated and synchronized with, and was a splendid contribution to the observance of the golden jubilee of Canadian union. It was besides a most significant feature; for the new city was, and is, a living and lively example of the great progress made by Canada in the past fifty years.
Not one of the least evidences of this progress emphasized last Monday, is the Welland Telegraph “whose special edition, to mark the inauguration of Welland as a city,” is in every way worthy of the event it signalizes, and of its reputation and record as a live and well conducted newspaper. The current interest in the special number consists in a graphic report of the inauguration proceedings as well as ample information about the present industrial per-eminence Welland holds amongst the minor cities of the Dominion, and of her almost magic growth as a manufacturing centre, represented by an increase in manufactured products from $150,000 in 1906 to $19,375,115 in 1916, and an increase in industrial pay-rolls in the same ten years from $50,000 to $3,610,336.
The special issue also gives interesting historical reminiscences, illustrated with photos of the early makers of Welland, so graphic as to be interesting to those who have lived through the interval between two striking epochs of its history, and two prominent features of eminence-mud in 1867 and manufactures in 1917. The Telegraph is to be congratulated upon its very creditable inauguration issue, and The Examiner hopes it may continue to share in the progress which the happy inception of Welland’s cityhood, its natural and provided facilities as a manufacturing centre, its splendid transportation conveniences, and the enterprising spirit of the citizens promise.
THE PARABLE OF WELLAND
Brockville Times
The attainment of full city status by the town of Welland, which was duly celebrated by the proud citizens of that new manufacturing centre of Dominion day, emphasizes what can be done by any progressive community possessing the two great assets of cheap power and the spirit of enterprise. The celebration number of the “Welland Telegraph” (a well edited, interesting and informative 16-page journal) shows that Welland now has both.
Having original advantages very similar to those enjoyed by Brockville in the matter of competitive transport agencies, favorable location in proximity to markets, etc., Welland was something of a “Sleepy Hollow” of the Niagara Peninsula until its live men awakened to the paramount importance of cheap power as an industrial community maker-decided to get cheap power-worked for cheap power and got cheap power. Now Welland not only has its required ten thousand population,but it has upwards of two score large manufacturing industries, with payrolls exceeding $3,000,000.00 per annum in the aggregate.
Stick-to-it-iveness, hustling, getting together and publicity did it. It always will.
Does anything more require to be said to point the moral for Brockville in the rise of Welland to prosperous civic status?
A METROPOLITAN SPORT
St. Catharines Standard
Welland is the only city in Ontario without a daily paper, but it has two pretentious semi-weeklies. The Telegraph put on a commendable metropolitan spurt last week by the issue of a bright historical illustrated birth- of a-city number which reflected the spirit that is going to make Welland continue to grow.
[See related TALE: TBD]
One is Right Between the Eyes, Others on Arms and Chest
His Sight is Affected But That is Thought to be Only Temporary
[Welland Telegraph, 14 November 1916]
In a letter received yesterday from C.J. Bradshaw, formerly of 12 Randolph Street, Welland, now of Leicester, England, Mr. and Mrs. W.J. Best were informed of the very serious injuries sustained by their son Frank in the engagement in which he was wounded.
Mr. Bradshaw says:
| I’m writing you tonight to let you know how Frank is getting along, for I have had the pleasure of visiting him in the Leicester hospital, which is within six miles of my home. I’m very pleased to tell you that Frank is progressing well and as far as they can see he will be walking around in another two weeks. All his wounds are flesh wounds but they are very painful at times. He got a bullet through the right arm just above the wrist and the flesh blown away above the elbow on the left arm, a cut on the chest and also one on the right arm and one on the nose right between the eyes, and the sight of the right eye is affected, in fact, he cannot see light from dark, but he thinks that he may regain his eye sight, for the eye is not damaged, and when he can get up he will go and see the eye specialist.
You will wonder why he cannot get up, but you must understand he could not get back to the trenches after being wounded and the exposure and loss of blood weakened him so that he is only just beginning to pick up, and his temperature went high at times.
The way I got to see Frank was through Dr. Colbeck. He found out some way that I was at Leicester and he wired me to go and see him and wire back Frank’s conditions, but unfortunately the wire came to my Leicester address on Saturday afternoon and I had left and gone to the country and did not get the message until late Sunday night.
Frank cannot do much writing himself yet, for his fingers are very stiff, but he is doing all he can to get them limbered up so in time you will see some of his own writing again.
One thing Frank asked for was a Welland paper, but unfortuately I could not supply him with one. Frank is quite cheerful and is making himself at home amongst the others, and says he is being looked after very well by all.
I will write you another letter next week and tell you how he is getting along.
Your truly,
C.J. Bradshaw
12 Randolph Street, Welland |
Welland County Man Who Went West in 1882 is Calling on Old Friends
[Welland Telegraph. 18 January 1916]
On Friday morning while the mercury was hovering around zero, a well built, well dressed and well preserved gentleman still looking young despite streaks of grey in his hair and his whiskers, called at the Telegraph office to pay his subscription.
“It is over fifty years since I began taking the Telegraph,” he explained, “ and while I was not a subscriber from the very first, I was on your list very soon after the paper started.”
The writer was John Wright, former resident of Welland-how many of you old Wellanders remember him? He lived for a time in Humberstone and went west in 1882-why that’s thirty-four years ago. Mr. Wright settled in Virden, Manitoba, which was then the jumping off place in the West. He prospered and for the last decade and a half has been living retired in what he calls the neatest, cleanest, prettiest town in the West.
Last year Mr. Wright lost his wife and thought he would relieve the monotony of the winter by visiting old scenes and seeing old faces in Welland county. He says he expects it to be his last visit to the East. Mr. Wright is 78 years of age but he doesn’t look it, not by a long chalk.
He has been reading The Telegraph for over half a century and is thereby almost a charter member. The Telegraph is now in its 53rd volume.
The Telegraph has a deep appreciation of these old friends.
[Welland Telegraph, 14 February 1908]
Mayor Crow is in receipt of the following letter from A. Hendershot of Dunnville:
Dear Sir-Re streets and park on the Hendershot Survey. On account of the legislation asked for in regard to this property being of such great importance, it is all importance that you and your council fully understand all about it before any action is taken. It is unjust, unfair and unusual to ask any public body to legislate on any matter of such vital interest to the town and public generally without hearing both sides of the question. At the last session of your honorable body you were asked to take action after hearing one side only. The party who appeared at the bar of the council in support of that side of the question has personal interests which are in opposition to the ratepayers of the town and the public generally.
I now ask what no legislation body in the Province would refuse to allow me and the public to present the other side of the question, and if notified will appear before the council and present our side of the question. The work on the sewer, or any other street work, cannot commence for some time yet. A week or ten days’ delay cannot interfere with any interest or prejudice the Council in any way. You will, therefore, please notify me of the next meeting of your Council.
Yours respectfully
A. Hendershot
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