As I research stories for my Susquehanna Footprints website, I often find short anecdotal stories that include strange, as well as comical, topics. Here are a few that could make you scratch your head, smile, or both.

Between 1831 and 1844, on the basis of his study of the Bible, William Miller, a rural New York farmer and Baptist lay preacher, predicted and preached the return of Jesus Christ to the earth. Stories appeared in newspapers and books.

Millerism

The grand delusion of this year (1843) was Millerism. A clergyman named Miller undertook the task of ascertaining when that hour should come "whereof no man knoweth: no, not the angels of God, neither the Son." Relying on the chronology of Rollin, and seemingly not aware of the impossibility of verifying the dates of the Old Testament writers, he confidently predicted that the visible and personal reign of Christ would commence in the year 1843. His preaching, vehement and fanatical in its tone, and the seeming accuracy of his calculations, quickly gained him hearers and prose. Miller was content to take the whole year for the fulfillment of his prophecy, but some of his disciples had undertaken to fix the precise day and hour. One preacher fixed on 12 p.m., 14th February. He and his little flock provided themselves with ascension robes and repaired to the church-yard to await the resurrection of their departed friends and join them in their ascent. The clock struck twelve, one, and two, but the graves gave not up their dead, and the company gradually dispersed to their homes.

Annals of the Buffalo Valley, Pennsylvania 1755 – 1855 John Blair Linn (1877) Pages 542-543

Also - The Berks and Schuylkill Journal states that the editor is informed by a gentleman from Wilkes-Barre, that the Miller theory has gained converts in Luzerne. Such has many been its effect that a storekeeper named Gaylord, residing about six miles below Wilkes-Barre, gave notice a few days ago that his store was at the service of the public, "free gratis and for nothing." The Deputy Sheriff of the County attended, by request, to hand out the goods. When the Journal's informant passed the store, a large crowd was in attendance, consisting chiefly of old ladies with well-crammed handkerchiefs. The stock of goods was in the way of rapid disposal, except the crockery for which there was little demand, most of the people seeming to think they had enough of the article to last during the term. The Sunbury Gazette, March 11, 1843, Page 03

Churchville

In 1833, a town was laid out at the end of the bridge opposite Lewisburg and named Churchville by an individual well known as Jerry Church. Respecting this town, Mr. Church, in his autobiography, says:

"The next town we made our appearance (he was accompanied by his brother,) in was Lewisburg, formerly called Derrstown, We there made a purchase of one hundred and twenty-five acres of land, of General Green, at forty-five dollars per acre, lying on both sides of the cross-cut, from the end of the bridge to the Pennsylvania canal, opposite the town of Lewisburg.

Having been in the habit of making towns, we concluded that we could make one most anywhere, and we thought we would try a small one in opposition to the one on the other side of the river—Lewisburg. However, we did not frighten them much as a rival, but we got their feelings raised and blood up, so that they bought us off at beautiful prices. There was one gentleman who purchased seventeen acres at one hundred dollars per acre, the day after we had bought it at forty-five. We laid out the balance into streets, alleys, and out-lots, and called it Churchville. We sold out the whole purchase in two weeks, and made some money, but not much of a town. It was a very pleasant place for a town, but there were no houses built in it but one, I believe, and that was a hotel and in order to let the people know that that was the town of Churchville, the proprietor of the house had the name written on a large sign—'Churchville Hotel,' and I am very thankful to the gentleman for keeping up appearances."

Otzinachson or History of the West Branch Valley J.F. Meginness 1857 Page 380

Hugging Bee

 We clip the following story from the Sullivan Review. We have heard nothing of it. It probably originated in the fertile mind of one of the correspondents of the Philadelphia themselves papers who very often forget and depart from the truth in their great desire for space: "Inspired by stories of the kissing bug, some enthusiastic church workers in Columbia County got up a hugging bee for the benefit of the Sunday school library. All the youngest and best-looking women and girls of the congregation took part, and the men were invited to pay a quarter, draw a number from a bag, retire to a darkened room, and call for the fair one holding that number to submit herself to twenty-five cents' worth of hugging for the cause. It was a big success, but one of the prominent members feels that he was swindled. He drew No. 22 and did not find out until the affair was closed that his wife held that number. He says it was a sinful affair, anyhow."

The Columbian (Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania) July 20, 1899, Page 01

ROPE DANCER AT NEW BERLIN (1824)

This summer, a rope dancer and his clown visited New Berlin and put up at Seebold's, where he proposed to display his agility for the amusement of the people and the replenishment of his pockets. Before he mounted the slack rope, however, he must needs make an equestrian display in order to attract the attention of the public. He applied to me for my horse, but I declined to give it. Nat Henrie, a waggish printer, happened to be present, volunteered to lend him his handsome, young gray mare. The offer was accepted, and Nat went away to bridle her. He soon came back to my office and notified me that there would be some fun presently. He said he had put on the mare a broken bit, which he had mended with twine. He said the mare was as wild as the devil, and if the clown attempts to hold her in with that bridle, there will be a ride worth seeing. Nat then walked over to Seebold's and engaged the clown in conversation, while the showman, dressed in a red jacket, white pants, white kid boots, and with his hair put up like a lady's, with side combs and in puffs, mounted and set out. When Nat judged that the showman had made sufficient headway, he let loose his hold of the clown's stirrup. The clown followed his master at a full gallop, with a whoop and halloo; the mare quickened her speed at the sound. The showman drew bridle with all his strength, the bit gave way, the rider fell on his back, with his heels in the air, and then, rolling off, alighted on hands and knees upon the ground. Nat ran to his stable, whither the affrighted mare had fled,’ put on another bridle, and, returning, condoled with the showman on his misfortune and offered him the chance of another ride. This he declined. The show was not good that night, on account of the want of agility of the rope dancer."

Annals of Buffalo Valley 1755-1855 John Blair Linn Pages 464-465

Featherless Chicken Story

The story is told of three (Bloomsburg) town girls who lived together in a Washington, D. C., apartment house and who, tired of the meals served them, decided to have some chicken which they decided to cook in their own room. They had no trouble buying a live chicken, but they did have trouble killing it. Finally, one of the girls suggested chloroforming it, and her suggestion met with approval. 'Twas done.”

When it came to picking the chicken, one of the girls thought it ought to be scalded and picked, but another said her mother always picked it dry, for it made the meat more tender. The latter's argument prevailed. By that time, it was time to go to work, and without removing the entrails, the girls left the chicken on the table to finish the work when they came home.

There were three amazed girls who opened the door upon their return, for there was the chicken, minus the feathers, strutting around the room. The Morning Press, The Passing Throng Column (Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania) July 01, 1948, Page 04