well-known proprietor of the True Blue Saloon, corner of Second and Oak streets, in this city, eloped on Friday last with a sewing machine agent named Tom Bohamon.
It is said that the absconding pair had been on terms of intimacy for some time past, and the woman's husband had his suspicions aroused, but said nothing, having too much faith in his wife to think that any other man could induce her to desert him. He has come to the conclusion that he is better off alone and does not intend to follow her. Wiseman was married to his wife in this city about four years ago, but they have had no issue. Mrs. Wiseman is a daughter of [deleted], formerly a well-known [deleted]. It is understood that the eloping pair are now in Victoria, British Columbia.
The deletions are by this writer and not by the reporter or editor. Try to think how long it has been since you have seen an item just like this in a newspaper of general circulation.
Another feature of this paper which suggests the English papers and the old New York Herald was the group of "Personals" among the classified ads. The first one caught the eye:
The lady who arrived here by the last steamer from San Francisco en route to Walla Walla, will, if she desires it, find a friend in the gentleman who picked up her glove and handed it to her on the main street of Astoria. A note addressed to W. B. C., this office, will meet a prompt reply.
This was marked it, and just what came of this incipient one-way romance is something that readers of the News were never able to find out. There was another one which had a better chance of demonstrating returns from News' classifieds:
Joe—Meet me sure at the usual rendezvous tomorrow (Tuesday) night at 8 o'clock. Red, White and Blue.
It did not take smart advertisers long to see their opportunity in a column like this, so we observe, in the issue of January 11, this clubby little notice:
Charley—Same time and place; everything fixed. Wear the suit Friedlander & Co. made for you. Salem, ja 11.
And another sample:
Dear Madge—Could not possibly meet you Sunday night as my overcoat and watch were in the custody of Uncle Meyer, 181 First street. Horace. ja 10 tf
