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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.