Sketches in Crude-oil: Some accidents and incidents of the petroleum development in all parts of the globeMcLaurin, John J. (John James)
History
Sketches in Crude-oil: Some accidents and incidents of the petroleum development in all parts of the globe
McLaurin, John J. (John James)
Petroleum -- History; Petroleum industry and trade -- North America -- History
Looking over the Milton diggings one July day, Col. McDonough met an
amateur-operator who was superintending the removal of a wooden-tank
from a position beside his first and only well. A discussion started
regarding the combustibility of the thick sediment collected on the
bottom of the tank. The amateur maintained the stuff would not burn and
McDonough laughingly replied, “Well, just try it and see!” The fellow
lighted a match and applied it to the viscid mass before McDonough could
interfere, saying with a grin that he proposed to wait patiently for the
result. He didn’t have to wait “until Orcus would freeze over and the
boys play shinny on the ice.” In the ninetieth fraction of a second the
deposit blazed with intense enthusiasm, quickly enveloping the well-rig
and the surroundings in flames. Clouds of smoke filled the air,
suggesting fancies of Pittsburg or Sheol. Charred fragments of the
derrick, engine-house and tank, with an acre of blackened territory over
which the burning sediment had spread, demonstrated that the amateur’s
idea had been decidedly at fault. The experiment convinced him as
searchingly as a Roentgen ray that McDonough had the right side of the
argument. “If the ‘b. s.’ had been as green as the blamed fool, it
wouldn’t have burned,” was the Colonel’s appropriate comment.
Miss Lizzie Raymond, daughter of the pioneer who founded Raymilton and
erected the first grist-mill at Utica, has long taught the infant-class
of the Presbyterian Sunday-school at Franklin. Once the lesson was about
the wise and the foolish virgins, the good teacher explaining the
subject in a style adapted to the juvenile mind. A cute little tot,
impressed by the sad plight of the virgins who had no oil in their
lamps, innocently inquired: “Miss ’Aymond, tan’t oo tell ’em dirls to
turn to our house an’ my papa ’ll div’ ’em oil f’um his wells?” Heaven
bless the children that come as sunbeams to lighten our pathway, to
teach us lessons of unselfishness and prevent the rough world from
turning our hearts as hard as the mill-stone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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