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SUNDAY MORNING.
PASSING OF THE FIRESIDE.
5V kettle never simmers on the hearth. Ab, tbe fireside is only a blind tnnnlel on
stone any more. th*-Vnll,
We lmve given up the sacred fireside; The log* that used to crackle blaze n
*tfh kitten never sleeps before the baek more:
log on the floor, No more fantnstie shadows over old rag
And the spinning wheel has stopped carpets fall,
aince grandma died; The hearthstone's hut a grating in the
But the poet, in his fancy, gees the fam- floor.
ily circle” yet.
And blithely sings the glory of liis The good old ways are ended ami the
dream. ... .... charm or them has fled.
While the artist takes his pencil and is No "fireside" remains to lure us now;
happy to forget No more, alas! does father have to clam-
That the fireside has given way to steam. _ l>cr out of bed
. , 1° light the logs while mother tells him
The boiler and the furnace arc in no de- how.
(free sublime, kittle Willie doesn’t have to carry billets
The scornful bard refuses to ennoble them in at night.
. * n . p hytne, fir. caviling, chop kindling nowadays—
And the artist never turns Stay!—that’s hut the steam pipe thuinp-
With his brush to such concerns; ing -’tis no time for flight or fright-
They have spoiled the family circle of “the We have given up the old poetic wavs
splendid olden time.
, . .... oh> “ fa "°y "' lwl •* standing as an orna-
Still, the preacher gravely preaches of the ment before
“sacred fireside," The walled and plastered place that was
Forgetting that long sihec it ceased the fireside of vore—
to be. The wind is howling “Woo-o-o-o!”
Forgetting that the people he is preaching But no flames leap up the flue,
.... t 0 a . bld .r . And the lieorthstone’s just a grating in the
Where janitors ars lord* of all they see! floor.
—B. E. Kiser, in Chicago Record-Herald.
A BARGAIN IN KISSES.
BY TOM MASSON.
THERE was a flutter of expect
ancy ns tbe minister's daugh
ter came Into the little buck
meeting room off the main
floor of the church, where the members
•f the committee, the majority of them
young and pretty, nil stood talking at
once.
Something was going on. Ip through
the half open door could be heard a
buzz of people, and an expert In such
matters. If lie bad passed by and even
onsunlly looked within, would have
known that a church fair was In pro
gress.
It was. Indeed, the annual church
fair, held under the auspices of the
Toung Women’s Guild, and this year
the minister's daughter was in charge
of the proceedings. Her father, away
on his vacation, bad called her into his
ntody before Ills departure and ap
pealed to her very strongly to “do her
•hare.’’ And so she had suddenly an
nounced her determination to take an
active part, much to the surprise of
everyone, as up to the present time she
toad been more interested in playing,
golf than in spiritual matters, and had
oven been called a “regular tomboy”
by certain recalcitrant beings lu old
fashioned bonnets.
“She will make a failure of It!” an
•ouiiced Mrs. Mintby, the official critic
of the minister's family. “That girl Is
too hairbrained, and besides, wtyt does
•he know about such matters? She
wouldn't be seen In church half the
time If common decency didn’t make
her go.”
“That's so," assented Mrs. Dlekster.
“All she cares about are tbe men and
outdoor sports, anyhow."
And now when the fair was half over
It began to seem as If these predictions
were to be fulfilled. The booths com
bined bad taken In barely SSO, and to
•end those poor children away for (lie
summer—for the minister’s daughter,
with a fine scorn of foreign missions,
had ipslsted that charity should begin
at home—seemed a desperate chance,
and at this particular moment it
•remed as If nothing short of a miracle
would swell tbe receipts for the next
two hours.
The minister’s daughter stepped to
the table whore the chairman usually
presided. Thefe was n sudden hush.
She looked over her auditors a moment
With a calm, penetrating gaze.
“Girls," she said, “we have got to be
kigsed!”
A chorus of “O’s” nud feminine
•creams and protests was her answer.
“There is no help for It.” she contin
ued. "We must raise a lot of money
before this nlglit Is over. Now, ui.v
plan Is this; We will all stand up and
toe kissed at auction, one nt a time, to
the highest bidder. Now, girls, don't
go back on me. Kemember, it's iu a
good cause, llow mauy can I count
on?”
There was a pause; a hand was
raised—another, and then another.
In ten minutes more eight exceed
ingly pretty girls, headed by oue who
•was prettier than all of them, tiled Into
the main room and grouped themselves
about a chair. One of them stood up
In the chair, to which this legend was
attached;
This Young Lady Will Be
Kissed at Auction.
How Much
Will You Give?
It would probably b<> difficult, not to
aw impossible, to explain wily this
startling and sensational news should
spread so rapidly through a whole par
ish. But that such was the case is a
Stern fact. Young men, idling away
their time at the club, knew it in fifteen
minutes, and started in u body for the
•cone of the auction. Other young
*nn, who had not been to church for
Years, hurried from their telephones
Into their bes* clothes with all the
haste demanded of the volunteer fire
Hyrtmont. It spread even as far as
3llke Uady's gambling establishment,
and caused that astute Individual to
jtrlek up his ears In an unusual degree
for one Inured to ihat sort of stoicism
that the roulette table fosters. And so
there was a kissing game going on at
the church, led by the minister's daugh
ter herself. Here was a fine chance to
jget even. Mike had had to close up his
place for several weeks because of a
•eattaing sermon preached by this same
clergyman, and the remembrance of It
•till rankled.
"Here, boy." hr said to a tall, fresh
looking youth of seventeen, handing
Win a roll of bills, “you go over to the
church fair, and If the sky pilot's
daughter is going to be paid for a
sweet kiss, push up in front and bid
up. Don't let anyone else get It, to the
limit of your wad—understand? /I’ll be
there in time.”
The boy, fresh and fair and Innocent
looking—as the run of boys In "glided
hells” are apt to be—was off In a trice,
and in ten minutes more had added Ills
individual unit to the circle around tbe
main centre of oscillatory Interest.
It Is highly probable that If such a
really scandalous proceeding as
auction had been premeditated am'jf'
vertised beforehand It would have 1® *-
promptly squashed by the pillars of
the church. Hut the suddenness of It
took the critics off their feet, and it
was well In hand and “going on” be
fore anyone had time to take breath.
The minister’s daughter was the auc
tioneer. A bamboo cane, with a strip
of red bunting on It, was her wand of
service. Tall and stately and beauti
ful, her eyes flashing with the fun, she
stood by tbe chair and waved her Hag.
"Now, ladles and gentlemen,” she
cried, “here Is Miss Kitty Jones. How
much am I offered for a sweet kiss?
What! Only $2? For shame! Do you
appreciate what you are getting? Five,
did you Ray? Now make It six, Six
It is. Seven from the gentleman on the
right. Seven, seven, seven eight,
eight—will someone make It nine?
That’s right. You’ll never regret It.
Nine, nine. Now ten. That’s better.
Ten It Is. Come, gentlemen, bid up.”
Tbe excitement run high. Deacon
Bradbusy Simpkins, forgetting what
fate awaited him at home, bid $lO on
Susie Perkins, whom Ills good wife had
once designated ns “sassy.” Hudd Cas
tleton, the best golf player iu town,
was a great help in “bidding up,” and
so also were Jack Clubberly and Billy
Sparks.
The ninth and last girl was none
other than the minister’s daughter her
self. Oil the table by her side lay a
collection box, holding over S2OO, the
proceeds of this unusual traffic. Per
haps the consciousness that she had
succeeded, (hat those poor little “tots”
would get. their outing, was enough to
make her oblivious of herself.
At any rale, she was calm and beau
tifully collected as she stepped on the
chair, disdaining the helping hand that
a spectator held out to her.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said,
"with your kind permission I will be
my own auctioneer, and I will spare
you tbe usual compliments. lam here
to raise all (lie money .1 can for the
poor children, and I am selling a kiss
to the highest bidder. How much am
1 offered?”
“Twenty-live dollars.”
“The first lild. ladies and gentlemen,
is $25. Who will make it thirty? Thir
ty, it is, thirty, thirty—thirty-five, thir
ty-five. Is thirty-five the highest bid?"
The tall, innocent youth now stepped
to tbe front. It is but Justice to tbe
boys from the club to say they did not
recognize him.
“I’ll make It forty,” he said.
The auctioneer was unmoved.
”1 am offered sffl,” slajasaid. "Gen
tlemen, bid up. forty
going nt forty going, going, gone.
Young man, the kiss is yours nt $40.”
There was a slight pause, a flutter of
interest. This nice-looking, gentleman
ly appearing boy, with S4O to bid for a
single kiss—who was he? At any rate,
it didn’t matter much, he Was only a
hoy.
“What a relief,” whispered one of
the committee, "to think her reputation
has been saved by a young thing like
that. Why. it doesn’t moan anything
to lx? kissed by him. An act of provi
dence. I verily believe!”
Almost as if in reply the boy turned
half around, as the figure of Mike
Dndy slowly forced its way through
the circle.
"I was bidding for someone else,"
said tbe hoy, holding out the money.
“Yea,” said Mike, his cool, insolent
eyes sweeping the crowd. "He was
bidding for me. He was my—what do
you call It?—proxy. I’ll take the kiss.
If you please.”
A dead silence—an awful pause.
For the first time that evening a
flush spread over the face of the min
ister’s daughter—a flush that made its
way from her flrml.v rounded throat
up over her cheeks to the Hue of fair
hair on her forehead.
She looked around the erowd almost
appealingly. Was there no ous to help
her in this dlleimua? Suddenly her eye
lighted on a figure that stood half con
cealed from view—a short, squat figure
—and there came to her voice a ring of
triumph.
“You shall be paid,” she said. “The
money, please."
it war; handed (o her, and she put the
bills 111 the box.
Then she-turned to the figure she had
seen—the old family colored cook.black
as the ace Spades, who had come to
witness “do proceeding.” “Pome here,
mammy,” she whispered, and drawing
her close end putting her arms around
her, she kissed the black face a re
sounding smack.
Then she turned to (lie gambler.
“And here,” she said, "is my proxy.
Take your pay, sirl”—Braudur Maga
zine.
JUMPING THE DEEP.
A Style of If untine That Look# Kasy Till
You Try It.
"Jumping a deer” is a highly attrac
tive phrase, quite apt to make a ting
ling In the back lialr of the tenderfoot
who hears it for the lirst time. It is
also quite satisfactory to the chap
who always has to shave before woo
ing nature. You, may, indeed, get a
good shot in this way, and it is gener
ally the only way to see the grandest
of all sights of the woods—deer run
ning through a windfall. To see tlie
glossy curves of fur curl over the lofty
logs that lie piled on each other in
boundless confusion Is well worth a
trip lo the woods, while for him who
loves the rifle as I do. more for what
cannot he done with It than for what
can, there Is no such target elsewhere.
But for the tryo who Is dying to get
that lirst deer “jumping a deer” gen
erally means out of sight and out of
hearing both. For the deer that goes
off to lie down after feeding does not
go to sleep but to ruminate and take
life easy. On eg in a great while one
falls Info a doze, hut almost always
Ills head is well erect and all senses
keen for danger. And even If one Is i
a doze It ipxiwin rose-'o- ■ - e '
suspj^re‘'suburbs. Mr. Norton soft
.< j liits wary ani
qow Mad re® i* w'Vmo “wouldn’t shoot
stffV’fui innocent creature ns s deer"
should by all means see one getting out
of a heavy windfall, while the man
who loves game that can get away can
find here the attraction of the woods at
Its climax.—From “Hunting the Vir
ginia Deer,” In Outing.
Colon! Wrong Blle Up.
Miss Nellie Began, a young teacher
In charge of a flock of youngsters at u
little red school house near Croton, re
ceived an unexpected visit from Sen
ator Depew, on Tuesday, according to
the Yonkers Statesman. Mr, DepeW
was driving from the Croton railroad
station to Palmer’s Hotel. As he passed
along the highway he saw the school
house, and looked to see if the ting
was flying. The emblem was waving
in the breeze, but Mr. Depew noticed
that the Stars nud Starlpes were upside
down. The Senator climbed up the bill
to the school house. The children were
at their studies. Miss Began came to
the door. “My dear Miss, please ex
cuse me," said tile Senator, as he stood
smiling, hat in hand. “I was passing
tills way recalling the scenes of my
childhood days among these beautiful
hills and valleys of yours, when I no
ticed that the flag In front of your
school was upside down. In my of
ficial position 1 feel that 1 have a right
to inquire about it.” "I know it’s till
wrong," stammered the young teacher,
calling Mr. Depew by name, "hut I
couldn’t help it. The halyards wore
broken, and we couldn’t hoist it right
side up. so, rather than not have It up
at all, the boys put It wrong side up.”
Air. Depew called Miss Began a brave
American girl, nud said that she had
the right spirit. Then he made a
speech to the children, telling them of
the importance of patriotism and the
significance of tbs flag.
A DflT.tojiineiit of tlie Killtor.
An essay ou "The Boston News
papers”.iu the Bookman throws some
light on tlie development of the mod
ern editorial. The earlier newspapers
had no editorials. Attempts to mould
public opinion took the form of letters
signed “Publius,” “Junius” and like
Latin names, such, for instance, as the
letters which make np the Federalist.
The writer in the Bookman claims for
Boston the honor of originating the
presen; editorial form. The Boston
Daily Advertiser and Repertory, the
first successful Boston daily, was
founded in ISI3, and the next year
passed into the hands of Nathan Hale,
nephew of the spy of the Revolution.
Hale began to substitute leading arti
cles written iu the office for those for
merly furnished by the stalwart
Romans. "Fabius,” "Honestus,” "Nov-
Anglus,” "Lneo” and "Mnssachuset
estus.” The fashion set by the Adver-
User was widely copied, and at length
became general. Mr. Hale came to
take such pride in his innovation that
when distinguished men like EverCtl
and Webster offered articles for use as
editorial he Insisted on printing them
as communicatlf is. Only the stall
men were allowed to write the regular
editorial comment.
Tnrltey* in Star Wltnca*e.
A modern Solomon's judgment, ap
proved by a flock of turkeys, after flic
decision had been referred for final
adjudication to the latter, has just
come from Lower Providence town
ship. The flock of birds in question
had strayed from their own farm
home, ns turkeys will, and had been
cooped up by the distant neighbor on
whose fence rails they roosted.
A warrant, a trial before a Justice
of the Pence and a proposition from
the real owner to let the birds settle
the question for themselves, prevailed.
“I’ll forfeit the lot If they don’t go
home,” proposed the owner.
“And so you shall,” responded the
Justice. “Turn them loose.”
The liberated turkeys, as If they
appreciated the weight of their new
legal responsibility, went in a bee-line
I to their home roosts; and judgment
was entered for the plaintiff.—Fliila
-1 delpbia Record.
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS.
i’v- :J A -Q-£k<Q>£l- '
W 1”" MILE it was not until after the
Norman conquest that hats
■r— —s! were known in England, the
history of hats can be traced
back to the ancient Romans,
and even to the earlier Greeks,
who wore on occasions a species’ of
brimmed headgear. The hatter of
Greece must have had an easy time of
it, for the fashions in hats could not
have been very varied in his day;
but from the moment that hats were
introduced Into the country of our
forebears the woes of both hatter and
wearer began, and have multiplied to
an extent that Is well-nigh impossible
to chronicle.
The trouble lies chiefly in the fact
that neither hatter
fnor wearer is sat
isfied with a sim
p 1 e, unaffected
style. While the
Zf plain petasus suf
a ficed the old Ro
jL, man, the modern
man must have
his silk, his derby,
his rough straw,
his panama, his
rough rider, and
his what-not in
i\ — hats. Not only
so. but the fash-
in each particular variety are
-distantly changing, so that what is
seemly to-day must be discarded to
morrow. In short, hats are less de
signed for use than for ornament.
The evolution from the simple to
tho complicated In hats is not. only
instructive, but amusing. In the
twelfth century a plain beaver was in
general use. Pretty soon the nobles
began to add plumes of many colors to
their hats, in order to mark still fur
ther the distinction between pa
trician and plebeian. In the thirteenth
century hats began to denote even
a higher degree of rank, for it was
then that the scarlet hat of the car
dinal was invented. Then a reaction
set in, and everybody, rich and poor,
donned hats.
The pendulum swung back again in
the times of
Charles 1., when
the Puritans af- fv, h
fected a simple
style with n broad
brim. Hereupon \
fashion wielded 1
the hammer once / /
more. The broad Cv /\ f
brims were first
adorned with •" -nrw=* ■*
feathers, then were looped up and tied
thus originating the ancient and hon
orable cocked hat of the days of the
Pretenders. Until the beginning of
the nineteenth century the cocked
hat reigned, to be displaced finally by
that hideous invention of Florentine
art, tho silk hat.
Oil, the sins of which the silk hat
stands convicted! Why people re
gard it as the most beautiful of mas
culine headwear is difficult to say, yet
it must be so regarded, or it would not
have held sway so long. Of all the
hot, uncomfortable, awkward, and pro
fanity-inspiring species of hat. give us
the silk. If it had but one redeeming
quality its many faults might be con
doned, but there is absolutely nothing
to bo said in its favor, it can only
plead that it is fashionable, but this
is no defense; fashion cannot ab
solve it from its many tins.
One of the weightiest of its short
comings is that it is conducive to
baldness. Wearers of silk hats are
almost always bald men, or are on
the high road to that most unenviable
condition. While it
fs J —■ — is declared on the
best of authority
that the constant
s —. wearing of any
Cos \ style of hat will ul-
J *rL' timately end in
V baldness, it may be
l stated as an axiom
that the periodic
wearing of the silk hat is a sufficient
cause.
TO ADORN FAIR WOMEN.
Ostriches Despoiled of Their Featherc
in Painful Way.
Ostrich feathers are plucked for mar
ket as follows: A man carefully ex
amines the flock and picks out those
birds whose feathers are ripening,
groups them in so that they can
not run about and injure their
beautiful plumage. When the pluck
ing time comes each bird is en
ticed into a narrow, dark pas
sageway. The entrances are then
closed and the bird thus Imprisoned.
A cldth bag is thrown over the crea
ture's head. Then tbe plucking be
gins. Three men, perched upon plat
forms outside of the pen. reach over
the board inclosure, and with various
scissor-like appliances pluck off the
feathers. Whatever wounds a bird
may receive are immediately dressed.
The tail feathers are putled and not
cut, simply because they reproduce
better than other feathers of the os
trich. While the plucking is in pro
gress the ostrich keeps up a dismal
roaring. Were it not for tne stanch
construction of the pen the creature
would kick the boards into splinters.
Dogs as Collectors.
“Collecting dogs” are popular Just
now in England for gathermg money
Tor charitable purposes. The Royal
Berks hospital has recently been en
riched to the extent of nearly SSO in
Another grievous crime of the silk
hat is that it is destined, sooner or
later, to cause it3 owner to be discom
fited. Short men do not suffer so much
in this respect as tall men, for they do
not have such opportunity to knock
their hats eff by coming into con
tact with the roofs of street
ears, tops of low doors, or the sharp
points of chand'-Hers. But equally
with tall men they suffer when' the
average small toy has a snowball in
his hand, for the temptation to use
the silk hat as a marl; is equally great
whether the wearer be tall or short.
Again, silk hats have an uncommon
knack of getting in the wrong place
when Dot In use., of being sat upon
or kicked into nothingness by some
short-sighted or careless individual,
all of which causes
the owner and the
destroyer a great
mental distress. qfepTT
that can only be So-j/Jh
avoided by the
banishment from
civilization of the
high top hat.
Indeed, sin seems jf J fBKV
to follow in the
wake of every qg ~\j Jy
kind of hat. The "(ii/fli,
untutored savage WKarv
is generally a docile enough creature
until hats have invaded his domain.
With a hat on his head he will indulge
in acts of cruelty and rapine at which
ne would shudder in his bare-headed
senses. If missionaries would
only ihinl; of this and would avoid the
appearance of evil by discarding hats
when they started out for the fields
of endi avor, if is tolerably certain we
would hear fewer stories of cannibal
ism.
But no—they must enter the king
dom of the savage with the latest
style of hat upon their heads, and at
once the barbarian feels a strange, un
reasoning desire to acquire that won
derful sample of civilization for him
self —presto! the missionary to the
dinner pot, the hat to the cannibal
king’s brow.
Taken all in all, the world would be
well rid of hats. Not alone their
weight, but the preposterousness of
their design is enough to give a sensi
tive man an attack of nervous pros
tration. A man who spends hours
working over some intricate problem
in science or planning some gigantic
community of interests in the realm of
business must of necessity eratn into
his poor brain more than it can be
•'•vaonably expected to hold, and how
is the overflow of mental energy to
escape if he jams a hat down over bis
ears the moment his work is done and
he starts for
4I home. Hence the
inelegant but
truthful phrase,
“talking through
one’s hat.” to ex
press the idea that
one is talking non
sense. One cannot
tain anything else
when the teeming
thoughts of an
overcrowded brain
are eooped up in a
stuffy old hat.
People shfiti’d
therefore get back to first principles
and lay hats aside utterly anil for
ever. Mental collapse, nervous pros
tration and insanity, to say nothing of
the physical discomforts of baldness,
are too often the concomitants of the
habit Of wearing hats.
Hatless races are rarely insane, and
still more rarely bald. Just think a
bit about it. —New York Times.
A Man of Nerve.
A Cleveland young man, who swore
he was over twenty-one in order to
get a marriage license, now explains
that he was standing at the time on a
piece of paper on which that magic
number was written. With the ex
planation he makes a request for a
divorce.
2,574 coins which Prince, a lex terrier,
collected at Workingham. Prince ts
tho property of a local public house
•keeper, whose customers amuse them
selves by hiding a coin which the in
telligent terrier speedily finds, when
it is transferred to a box, where it re
mains until the time comes for the
donations to be handed over to the
hospital's treasury. It is said that
h collecting deg at Paddington rail
way station in London has during its
service collected over $3,750 for char
ity and still continues his good work.
Would Reform Calendars.
Camille Flammarton, the astronom
er and social reformer, has introduced
a bill in the French chamber of depu
ties for the rationalizing of the calen
dar. He wants the year to start with
the vernal equinox and to consist of
364 days. The odd day he wants to
make a fete day independent of the
year. The object of the reform is to
make the same dates recur on the
same days of the week year after year.
Bicycle Still Popular in Fiance.
The bicycle craze shows no abate
ment in France. Good roads have kept
the wheel from falling into oblivion.
True, there are not so many wheels
seen on the boulevards and parks, bat
in the country the wheeling tourist is
as promiscuous as ever. At the seaside
and summer resorts the wheel is still
the favorite method of locomotion.
i illl pidciklk
] j|l \J^^ en^re -l ! K "
Whipped a Catamount.
THE announcement that Presi
dent Roosevelt is again con
templating a sojourn iu the
wilds o? the White River
' country of Colorado has created, as
• hvays heretofore, a buzz of comment
i iu the little Indiana city of C'rawfords
[ vilie. For tbe Chief Executive of the
Nation never hunts in Colorado, beat
i iug up or down its'mountain streams
or winding in and out along its tortu
ous mountain paths, without the ser
vices of John Cuff as guide and eom
| panion.
[ John Goff is a resident of Crawfords
ville. At least, when he speaks of
"lume” in that fashion peculiar to the
men who have gone into the wilderness
of the West, lie refers to the little cot
tage nestled away atrioug the syca
more trees that line a lonesome, half
nogleetcil byway of the old Hoosier
town.
It is now nearly twenty years since
John Goff set his face toward the
West, and, with a determination to
repair the lost fortunes of the family,
made his way into the very heart of
the Rocky Mountains. Goff spent liis
boyhood days near Ladoga, a little
village scarcely half a dozen miles
away from Crawfordsville. Here there
are half a hundred people Inhabiting
tho countryside wfio yet remember
the sturdy young man when he fished
in Indiana streams and bent through
Indiana woods in search of game, liis
father and ids grandfather were trap
pers before him, his uncles and his
great-uncles were hunters, and his
mother had in her veins the restless
blood of the pioneer's wife. In John
Goff the traits of the family centred.
'That is oue of the reasons he is se
lected annually to be the companion
and the guide of President Roosevelt,
for Theodore Roosevplt, hunter, like
the men of his kind, loves a man after
his own heart.
Goff nt tlie age of fifteen had already
brought Ids natne prominently before
the people of his own neighborhood.
He had on this occasion been sen: by
his father to the borne of a friend. His
journey, however, was delayed until
darkness had begun to fall, and young
Goff, when finally he did put cut. found
it necessary to make his way through
the woods, where already the dark
ness had grown dense.
In the course of his trip Goff was set
upon by a catamount. The hardy
young hunter had only a pocket knife
to use as a weapon of defense. Never
theless. he whipped this from his
pocket, and prepared to light for liis
life. The beast, as Goff maueuvred to
avoid it if possible, suddenly leaped
wt the hunter from its perch upon an
overhanging limit, ami square
ly upon the lad’s back, buried its claws
in his shoulders and fastened its fangs
In his neck.
Goff, although hampered in all liis
movements by the burly form of the
animal, and sick with the pain caus&l
by flip claws and teeth ripping through
his flesh, finally sueeeued in sinking
the Iflade of the little weapon iuto the
cat’s neck. This forced the beast to
loosen ita hold with its teeth and gave
Goff the chance to shake it from Ids
baek. After a struggle continuing fOr
thirty minutes, the lad finished the cat
amount. and half dead from loss of
blood, he began his long journey to
liis home.
This Goff accomplished ou his hands
and knees. Every inch of the trail was
covered with liis blood, and upon ar
rival at bis father’s door he sank from
exhaustion, and was not discovered
until an hour later, when lie was found
where he had fallen in the dead faint.
The following day the body of the
catamount was brought into the town.
A rough sign was tacked upon it, which
read; "Killed by Goff.” From that
time on the young hunter acquired the
nickname, “By,” which has clung to
him through all the later years of ids
life.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
In a Vat.
A brewery is often a dangerous place
in more senses than one. The vats nud
the machinery are but so many traps
for unwary workmen. A workman in
a brewery at Paterson N. J., Abraham
Sapiro by name, recently bad an ad
tenture of a most extraordinary kind
iu connection with the apparjfi^-’dV,hc
establishment. ienjGl
Iu the middle of each of * jf-viit
mashing tubs In whlclffr-i<
mixed and boiled there are. attaeheqfto
a central shaft, two sets of large steel
knives. When the upright shaft re
volves. these knives are rapidly driven
about, and thus the malt is mixed.
One day lately one of these tubs was
empty, and Sapiro, who had charge of
them, was at work cleaning the tna
cfcjnery. Having nearly finished his
task, he wished to have the malt turned
into the mixer. Outside tlie vat stood
an assistant, and Sapiro told him to
go and turn a lever, the function of
which is to start or stop the machinery
which feeds in the malt. The man
went, but insteud of moving this lever,
he moved tlie one which starts the
shaft in the centre of the great tub and
revolves the knives.
In another instant. Sapiro. who was
standing on the polished copper bottom
of the tub. saw the knives begin to
move slowly, and knew what his ig
norant assistant had done. Before he
could avail himself of the chance to get
out. the knives were moving so fast
that he could do no more than run in
a circle between them—one ahead of
him and one behind—and call for some
one to turn the lever.
The terrible knives moved faster and
faster, and Sapiro increased his speed,
one knife acting as a pacemaker In
front of him, the other a terrible pur-
NOVEMBER 30
.ri t
suer, and either of them Sure to .-ut
hirti In two if he slackened his pace or
fell!
Faster and faster lij ran, still calling
for help. His wet slippers found very
insecure footing on the polished copper,
and every moment he was afraid that
lie would s lip and fall.
His assistaut now came in sight, hut
the man was cither so dazed by the
spectacle or so Ignorant of the machin
ery that he could do nothing but stand
and gaze open-mouthed.
By, keeping as near as possible to
the- shaft and revolving with it, Sapiro
was managin' for the moment to keep
out of the way of both knives; but his
exertions wc-re so great that he was
rapidly becoming exhausted. It seemed
to him tnat he could not hold out a
minute longer.
But just as he was about to sink a
man came in who had sense enough
to run to the engineer and tell him to
shut down the motive power of tlie
whole establishment. The engineer did
so. and the great knives slowed down.
The exhausted man had then to watch
closely and move at a slower and
slower pace himself, in order to keep
himself still between the two knives.
This continued until the machinery had
come to a dead stop. Sapiro sank iu
a dead faint on the bottom of the vat
—totally exhausted, out unhurt.
Hl* Narrow Prison*
In old rimes prisoners were some
times confined in cells that gave them
no room, either to stand upright or to
lie at full length. A more distressing
experience, although happily it did
not last very long, befell an old plains
man, who tells the story in the Los
Angeles Times. On a nipping zero day
in February he started from a Mon
tana ranch la pursuit of buffalo.
“I must have gone thirty miles at
least before sighting my game, four
cow buffaloes and oe bull. I got tliem
all, and then, giving my horse his head,
I undertook to skin the buffaloes, but It
was new work for me and slow. It be
gan to get dark by the time I had
finished the job, and when I looked
around there was no horse in sight.
“I concluded then that I would have
to wall; back to the ranch; but 1 dis
liked to leave the hides, and it was
cloudy and never a star to show inc my
course. After studying the matter
over for a while, 1 laid two of the
hides down flat together, hairy side up,
stretched myself at one edge and be
gan to roil myself up. careful to leave
an airhole nt the top for breathing
purposes. The hides were so limp that
they conformed well to the shape of
my body, and the com!, .table feeling
of being warm soon put me to sleep.
“When 1 awoke and tried to stretch
and turn over I found it was impossi
ble. I tried to move my arms, but that
was Ho more to be done than if I had
been bound and rebound with rope. I
had rolled myself up in two green
hides and they had frozen hard, mak
ing tne a prisoner.
“The idea of cutting my way out
with a knife occurred to me, but try as
I might I could not reach my pocket.
It was like being tied to a plank.
“When would relief get to me, cr
would it come at all? The boys knew
about what direction 1 had taken, but
they might not be alarmed enough to
start out and look me up in time. Then
it was getting dusk again, and another
night of torture was before me. Couhl
I endure it and live?
“Suddenly 1 thought I heard voices.
Then came the tramp of horses’ feet,
and soon i was shouting and being
answered. The fellows could not find
me at first, but following the sound of
my voice, traced mo and took in the
situation at a glance. They pulled
grass and piled it ou each side of me,
set It afire , and in a quarter of an
hour my prison walls were thawed
apart. But the boys had to rub me
a long time before I was able to slr.ud
up.”
Dare-Devil Workmen.
“I remember.” said a bridge con
tractor some time ago while on the
subject of workmen’s dare-deviltries,
“when working at the big bridge across
the Niagara. When the two cantilever
arms had approached within fifty feet
of each other a keen rivalry as to who
should be tlie first to cross sprang up
among tbe men. A loug plank con
nected the two arms, leaving about
two and a half feet of support at each
end. Sirict orders were issued that
no one should attempt to cross tbe
plank upon penalty of instant dismis
sal. At the noon hour I suddenly
heard a great shout from the men. who
were all starting up. Raising my eyes
I saw a man step on ibe end of that
plank, stop a minute and look down
into the whirlpool below. I knew' he
was going to cross, and I shouted to
him, but he was too high up to hear.
“Deliberately he walked out until lie
reached the middle of the plank. It
sagged far down with his weight until
1 could see light between the two short
supporting ends and the cantilevers on
which they rested. He saw' the end
in front of him do this, hesitated and
looked back to see how the other end
was. I thought he was going to turn.
He stopped, grasped both edges of the
plank with his bands, and, throwing
his feet up, stood on his head, kicking
his legs in the air, cracking his heels
together and yelling to the terrified
onlookers. This he did for about a
minute—it seemed to me like forty.
Then he let his feet drop down, stood
up, waved his hat and trotted along
the plank to tlie other side, slid down
one of the braces hand over hand and
regained the ground. \Ye discharged
him, of course, but what did he care?
He got all the glory, his fellows envied
him and he could command work any
where. ’ —Cassier’s Magazine.
Why Untruths tire.
Many untruths are like flies—they
are allowed to live simply because Jt ts
too much trouble to chase them down
and kill them.—New York News.