South Atchison is shaken from turret to foundation stone. A sensation has occurred within its precincts that bids fair to outrival even the startling wonders of sensational Kansas City, and become the usual nine days’ neighborhood talk. The heroine of the sensation, for the principal character is a woman, is Tenny Dysart, the wife of John Dysart, an intelligent and industrious colored man, who lives in West Atchison, and for an occupation drives A. B. Symns’ delivery wagon. About Christmas time Mrs. Dysart was taken down with dropsy, and the disease has confined her to her house and bed nearly ever since. She was about forty years old, and before her present sickness was a strong and healthy woman. Medical aid had treated her with all that human skill could command, but it was apparently of no avail, and Tuesday night about twelve o’clock she died–that is, to all appearances. Wednesday kind friends came in and looked at the body, condoled with the husband and children, and preparations were made for the funeral. Wednesday night watchers sat by the inanimate body, and Thursday was fixed as the day of the burial. Thursday morning the body was robed for the grave and placed in the coffin, the sorrowing husband and mourning children sadly grieving the loss of their wife and mother. The funeral was to take place at three o’clock, at which time the house was filled with mourning friends, the hearse was waiting at the door, and the body was soon ready to be borne to its last resting place. As the lid of the coffin was thrown back to take the farewell look at the body one lady laid her hand on the forehead of the supposed dead, and with a cry of astonishment declared that the body was warm. This lead to another examination, and Dr. Gough was sent for. The physicians applied the usual tests and pronounced that life still remained. The body was taken from the coffin, remedies and restoratives applied, and to-day at noon the patient was conscious and sensible and in a fair way of recovery. It is needless to say that excitement and consternation prevailed, the hearse and carriages went away and the probabilities are that Mrs. Dysart’s funeral will be postponed for many days to come.–Atchison (Kan.) Patriot.
The Dysarts aren’t on the web, of course, and neither is Dr Gough.
Atchison, Kansas was immortalized by Judy Garland singing “On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe” in The Harvey Girls. The Atchison Patriot, a “Democratic” paper, was active from 1867 to at least 1880.
West Atchison was laid out in 1858, but apparently has been subsumed by Atchison in the intervening 150 or so years.
Dropsy isn’t a disorder where the afflicted drops things everywhere — according to this dictionary, it’s an old term for edema. However, it also is a condition caused by ingestion of the oil of prickly poppy. I imagine that Mrs Dysart had edema, however, possibly related to diabetes, since it appears she was in a coma.
“Nine days’ neighborhood talk” suggests the phrase I’m familiar with: “nine (or 9) day wonder.” I googled both phrases. But I’m surprised that there are only 1400 hits! Seven (7) day wonders garner about 2200 hits. Is it me? Do I misremember the phrase? Or is it just not in common currency?