Hi, list! I did some "gleanings" of Lincoln County items this morning, using the "Down Memory Lane" columns from the 1989 and 1990 Lincoln Sentinel-Republicans I found this summer. I'm going to send them to Bill to be put on the page (until I learn to do it myself, which I hope will be soon!) but I thought I would share a couple choice ones with the list. (In some cases, unfortunately, I don't know what paper the items came from, but I believe when the LSR didn't specify, they came from the Lincoln Republican.) Hope you enjoy them! Lincoln County News, March 13, 1873 (This paper didn't last long, and it's too bad, because the editor was a wit.): Mr. Marsh has left a couple of very large hens eggs at this office, to see what we think of them. Our opinion is that if the hens can stand it, he ought to feel satisfied. A man in Kansas whose front name is John, tried a new experiment for cleaning soot out of chimneys the other day. He wrapped a lot of powder, some pound more or less, in a paper and put it in the stove, and in order to compel it to up the pipe, shut the door, and placing his feel against it, heroically awaited the result, like a mule with a howitzer strapped on his back. In due time it went off, and so did John. It was an even race to the door, but outside the powder was ahead. Whether it was disgusted at the vile uses to which it had been put, or whether the soot was too compact to be moved, it is not know. At any rate, as a cleansing method, John thinks it is a failure. The great Bugbear of Kansas: We have heard a good many say that the only really bad feat of Kansas is the extremely disagreeable winds that prevail here during the month of March. It is true that this is not the most favorable time for an eastern man to come to Kansas with the expectation of seeing the natural beauties of our state, for we do not deny that the wind does blow once in a while, and owing to the peculiar mellowness of our rich prairie soil, it is sometimes scooped up and mingled with the "balmy Zephyrs," and perhaps to a Yankee, who proverbially goes about with his mouth open, it is rather disagreeable. Of course, not being used to this kind of diet, and vexed to see his fine store clothes begrimed with dirt, he becomes disgusted and goes back east, where he can still spend a month of pleasant winter evenings lounging by a fire and spinning exaggerated tales about the disagreeable climate of Kansas. Now we propose to state a few facts in relation to the climate of Kansas, and these disagreeable winds. We have lived in two or three other states before coming to Kansas, and we have seen the wind blow just as hard as we ever did here, if not a little harder. It didnt blow dirt in our eyes, ears and mouth though, and the reason are obvious. In the first place, the soil was too compact at this season to be disturbed by anything milder than a steel-pointed thunderbolt. In the second place, during the month of which we speak, we kept indoors and hugged the fire as closely as possible, still enjoying the luxury of snug winter weather. The wind blew pretty hard but it was not very disagreeable to persons, though the cattle, sheep and horses contracted their muscles, curved their spines and brooded over the about equal probabilities of death or approaching spring. The real truth is that during the month of March the weather in Kansas in its general features is quite similar to that experienced in May in many of the eastern states. We do not escape the most disagreeable characteristics of an eastern climate during the spring months. The Kansas farmer is enabled to commence his spring work during the latter part of February, and not unfrequently a great deal of the plowing and seeding is done during that month. The winds that blow during the next month are warm and healthful, starting all vegetation into life and a man finds it most convenient to dispense with the wearing of a coat. The fact is, we have no weather scarcely that will keep men from pursuing their customary out of door avocations, and we know nothing about muddy roads. Our winters days are nearly all sunny and agreeable, our spring weather balmy and healthful, and our summers answer to the most perfect definition of a temperate climate. An eastern man can well afford to exchange the luxury of a hard winter with its deep snows, a spring of cold, sleety, rainy, windy days, and a brief summer of sweltering heat for a home in a state like Kansas, possessing all the merits and very few of the demerits of a temperate and tropical climate, if he does have to eat a little dirt. April 15, 1915, Lincoln Sentinel: A revolver is a nickel-plated substitute for bravery, which has practically driven the original article out of the market. The revolver gives a puny man with a 5-8 inch brain and the pluck of a grasshopper a 100-year reach and makes him more deadly than a Sioux Indian. There was a time when this country had no dangerous animals, except bears and wolves, and life was safe except on the frontiers, but now vast hordes of 16-year-old boys with cigarettes in their face and portable cannons in their hip pockets, produce obituaries with the skill and enthusiasm of a cholera microbe; while it is not at all times possible to meet a personal enemy who has been chasing you for a week and who is reluctantly compelled to defend himself when he catches you by filling you so full of lead that your remains will require eight pallbearers. Revolvers are now so generally used in debate, in domestic quarrels and repartee of all sorts that 8,000 Americans die of them each year, it is said. Dec. 14, 1939, Lincoln Sentinel: A possum which weighed 7 ½ pounds after being dressed for the vent, provided John QUINN with another southern feast this week. The possum presented Quinn by Ted LOHMANN, was "the biggest yet," said Quinn, and "had plenty of fat to grease the corn bread." Besides the meat and cornbread, Quinn had his usual sweet potatoes and buttermilk.