anding today
as solid as the reputation of the old burgs it joins together.
Brownsville had the first bridge that spanned the Monongahela River. In
fact Brownsville had a bridge long before Pittsburgh. While Bill Brown
and his progenitors were ferrying Pittsburgh inhabitants across the
river in a skiff, Brownsville folks were crossing on a "kivered"
bridge. And were it not for further humiliating Bill Brown, the
discoverer of Pittsburgh, still greater glories could be recalled for
Brownsville.

James G. Blaine was born on the west bank of the Monongahela River. The
land on which the Blaine house stood was the property of an Indian,
Peter by name. He sold the land to Blaine's grandfather, Neil Gellispie,
the price agreed upon being forty shillings an acre, payable in
installments of money, iron and one negro man, a slave. Ye gods! How did
the "Plumed Knight's" detractors in the "Rum-Romanism-and-Rebellion"
campaign overlook the fact that the Blaines once bought and sold slaves?

[Illustration: James G. Blaine's Home]

Philander C. Knox was born on the hill on the east side of the river.
Professor John Brashear was born on the western edge of the town.

Elisha Gray, the original inventor of the telephone, was from
Brownsville; as were John Herbertson, builder of the first iron bridge
in the United States; John Snowden, builder of two iron gunboats for the
Civil War, and Bishop Arnett, of Ohio.

Brownsville first promulgated a word of slang that has greatly
beautified the English language.

But let it be recorded to the old town's credit, the evil was propagated
without malice aforethought. Brownsville's borough limits show its shape
to be somewhat like that of a hot-air balloon--a big body with a neck;
and the narrow strip of land between the river and Dunlap's Creek
stretching toward Bridgeport from time out of mind has been designated
by the inhabitants of either side of the creek as the "neck."

Brownsville had a temperance revival. Strict observance of the liquor
laws was being enforced. Jack Beckley was haled to court on a dray, too
oblivious of everything to answer any charge. The burgess, before
committing him to the lock-up, questioned the watchman, Jim Bench, as to
where Jack got his liquor.

"Did he get it on the hill?"

The officer truthfully answered:

"No, he got it in the neck."

The town took up the phrase and thereafter any person who met with any
sort of mishap "got it in the neck."

[Illu