125 years ago

march 26, 1886

Immigrants are coming into Kansas in immense numbers. The whole state is on a big boom.

A strange explosion occurred in Dr. Rogers’ store stove, last Friday, which played havoc with his heater, burned his hand considerably and made things “warm” for the establishment generally for a while. It is supposed that the explosion was caused by some sort of chemical enclosed in unopened mail matter, as the doctor had just filled the stove with a lot of paper rubbish.

Talk about big families in Mormondom! Pshaw! Why, Trustee Bates, who is enumerating the inhabitants of Marion, reports one hundred and twenty-six persons in five families.

Lawyer L.F. Keller has broken ground for a fine residence on his beautiful corner lots on Denver and Locust streets. It will be one of the handsomest homes in the city.

Excavating for A.E. Case’s fine new double business building on Main street progresses. The whole lower floor will be occupied by one firm with a mammoth stock.

That “privileged character,” the assessor, is abroad in the land, bothering men about their property and women about their age.

Yesterday was Arbor Day, and if you didn’t plant at least one tree, you ought to be ashamed that you didn’t. So ashamed, indeed, that to atone for your neglect you should plant a few today, and a few more tomorrow, and some next day, and others each day thereafter as long as the planting season lasts and your available tree places hold out. Not only plant trees, but also plant shrubbery and flowers in rich profusion.

We hate to rasp your already lacerated feelings, but then as the official organ of the old reliable ground hog in the State, it is clearly the RECORD’s duty to remind you that its great prognosticator “got there” again this year as usual. Yea, verily.

Mr. Sacket has purchased of Mr. Doster the plat of ground on Elm street, between Mother Doster’s and Mr. Tomlinson’s—100 feet front—for a residence. It is the last residence frontage on the banks of the Luta north of the bridge, and will make a fine home.

And still the Florence papers are very, very quiet about that coal discovery. So quiet, in fact, if you will permit an original description of their silence—so quiet that you can hear a pin drop.

A man named Charles Clarke, in making his way to Marion along the railroad track, fell through a cattle guard night before last and so severely injured himself that he lay there all night, and yesterday was taken to the county poor house where he is being cared for.

Peabody now has a steam laundry. This will be a great convenience to the editors over there, who will not now have to remain in bed as long as formerly while their respective shirts are being washed.