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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 22, 1906)
FEWER INJURIES AS RESULT Gi- THE NEW FOOTBALL RULES Rsfcrr.'.ed Cede Passed to “Debrutal ize” Game Is Regarded. Effective. “The reformed football rules have ; Increased minor injuries but have de crca ed fatalities.’’ This is the consensus of opinion ’ among gridiron coachca of the middle ] west. A sufficient number of games have been played now for the coaches to get a pretty good idea of how the rules passed for the purpose of “de brutalizing” the game are going to af fect the men and the general idea is that there is a bigger percentage of minor accidents than under the old plunging, such for instance as Minne sota used to exhibit,-the danger of fa talities is greatly decreased. In those days, when a man was called on to smiV'h into the opposing line, almost like butting his head against a stone wall, something had to give way, anti the result too often was injury to tlie head or neck that was far more seri ous than broken bones or twisted kneel. Even the linemen themselves were in danger in those plays, for where the play was piled up somebody was almost sure io get hurt, and the danger was that they would get hurt badly. “I have talked with a number of other coaches in this section of the country and 1 find they all hold prac tically the same views that I do in re gard to the injuries. “A couple of weeks ago 1 lost a play CAPTAIN OF THE ILLINOIS UNIVERSITY TEAM. ’C/LAlTHFP'F' half ; fwr By a strange com idsnee, Ca?t. Carrithers has teen out of every gam*, the lllini has scheduled with Michigan since he has been a member cf the llliri fcctfcaii squad. He saw the recent game from the sidelines on account of an injured knee. rules, though the danger of fatalities is greatly decreased. Reason for this change is obvious. The pe-v game i.s more open-field run ning anti broken banes and knee twist; come ea-ily and quickly from hard tackling when running with the bail. Under the old game the man was sent into the line like a pile •driver, head foremost, and many in juries then happened to the head and neck that sometimes proved fatal. Most of this style of play is done away with now and the ball is carried for ward on oif-tackle plays, end runs and tricks, which means more open field running. After watching the game closely so far this season I am firmly convinced that the new rules are beneficial to the players, for the reason that, though they tend to increase minor injuries, such as broken bones and strained tendons, the percentage of fatalities will be greatly decreased,” says Dr. Huchins, coach at Wisconsin and a graduate physician. “Most of the injuries, I believe, will be broken bones and twisted knee joints. The broken bones will come largely from being thrown in open field running, when a runner is tackled and thrown. The knee wists will come, I figure, more in the end runs and other line plays generally used this year. “By dropping the old style of line <t, Sokup, in just this way. Ho w* >ne of my half-backs, anu in him was practically all of the speed the Badgers | had. He was hurt in one of those off | tackle plays—had his leg broken just i above the ankle. It was one of tho worst breaks I ever saw. the bone cut ring through the fiesh, skin and even through his stocking. He showed wonderful grit, and when I saw him : just before going on the operating I table the first thing he asked me was ; bow the game came out. The next ; morning he wanted the papers so -as ! to see how other games came out. “He was hurt by failing over a man ■ already down and another man falling j on top of him. It is these kind of in : juries that will predominate under this ! year’s rules, according to my observa j tion. “Of course, there have been some ■ fatalities already this year, but I am I confident that nine-tenths of the boys j who have been killed so far should j never have played the game at all, and would not have been permitted to do i so had the examination to which a col ' lege man is subjected before he can | play football. Such fatalities should : not be permitted to weigh against the | gridiron sport, for it is too often the j fault of the parents rather than the j game in permitting boys physically un j able to stand such a sport to play it.” PRATT DROPS FOOTBALL. Instructor Claims That New Rules Have Made Game More Dangerous. Pratt institute of Xew York city has dropped football. The executive committee of the institution at a meet ing thrashed out the matter, and for the welfare of the student body de termined that no more matches should be played. The last game was at Lakeville, Conn., where the boys met the husky Hotchkiss school eleven. The team has dropped its schedule, defaulting to several prospective op ponents, including Stevens’ institute, and a class team at West Point. Dr. Voorhees, physical instructor of Pratt institute, when interviewed, was outspoken about the new rules, and he censured them severely. "Yes, we have dropped football,” said the instructor. “We find that the game has been brutalized to such an extent that a player has to be prac tically a prize fighter to endure the knocks. I doubt if any of our best ‘scrappers’ could be induced to take a chance on the game, as it is played today. The open play, with sturdy ends ready for a tackle on any por tion of the body, is a great menace. Why, we have today a body who has concussion of the brain as the result of a contest. I will not say who he is, but the boy received a bump on the head, and was unconscious for hours afterward, and had to be taken to the' hospital at Princeton in very bad shape. That is only one of the cases. There are several others, and I hold the new roles are responsible.” Navy Loses Quarter Back. A severe shock was given the foot ball contingent at Annapolis by the news that Norton, tho reqular quarter back and one of the mainstays of the team, was threatened with appendici tis. If Norton is out of the game for the season his less will be felt severe ly and will balance West Point’s loss of Quarter Back Geary, who broke his leg in practice. Be Net In Haste. Throw not away the old straw hat. Though soiled It still is useful, good; Mash it fine within a bowl / And serve it up for breakfast food. —Milwaukee Sentnel. STORY OF A STAMP.' UNKNOWN FACTS CONCERNING EMBOSSED POSTAGE Familiar Stamped Envelope the Prod uct of the Skill of One Man, Henry Mitchell. Everybody is familiar with the stamped envelope of the United States postal department, and every body most who has used the mails at all lias used such stamped envelopes, but without any thought perhaps as to where and how and by whom made. For 40 years Mr. Henry Mitchell has been engraving the plates from which these stamps are made. When the United States government wishes to issue a new set of stamped envel opes it comes indirectly to Henry Mitchell of the Studio building on Tre mont street, Boston. This happens usually when the postmaster-general, fresh in his office, desires to commem orate his term with a fresh stamp is sue. The procedure is brief. The design is selected, sent to the United States Stamped Envelope company of Hartford, and thence to Mr. Mitchell. The selection of Mr. Mitchell as the official engraver of the dies for the stamped envelopes is an old story to him now. His service began in 1S6S. That is a long record in an era of spirited competition for government | contracts, but the • art of intaglio en graving is very scantily disseminated. The output of expert craftsmen in this kind of Work is so rare that if Mr. Mitchell were to decline to exe cute the next design of the embossed stamp the United States Envelope company would be put to great exer tion to find a competent successor to him. On the wall in the workshop of this expert craftsman in the Studio building on Tremont street, there is a large frame containing perhaps 2S or 20 examples of embossed stamps. They represent, of course, only a part of the issues of ihe past 3S years, but in showing the changes of three dec ades they help mightily to impress the layman with the longevity of their maker’s service. The art of making these dies prop erly, with Mr. Mitchell, depends on making the matrix properly. The matrix is born of a small steel block topped by a disk about a half-inch thick. All the engraving is done on this upper structure, and it is done downward. Here enters the difficulty ot the task; the greatest difficulty of engraving is to cut-downward, that is, to make an intaglio instead of a re lief. When the matrix, or. as Mr. Mitch j ell calls it, the mother die. is dona, a ; soft hub slightly less in diamter is * thrust Into it and kept there until a j relief design of the figure is obtained. ! Then the die is complete, and from ; these two parts—the intaglio and the | relief, the two-parent dies—many | thousand embossed stamps may be 1 prrtluced. This manufacture is, of icurse, done in Hartford; Mr. Mitch j ell's task is ended when the dies are ready for service—in commemoration of the new postmaster-general or some special event in the history of the country, as, for instance, a na tional exposition. More than one set of dies is used by the envelope company in Hart — —--re, Henry Mitchell. ford. But every die is obtained from that original matrix. New hubs are mated with the mother; they in turn create new matrices, and the process of propagation is kept up until evi dences of wear and tear on the ori ginal dies show and the finer lines be gin to lose their absolute resemblance to the original engraving. In addition to the engraving of stamp dies for the postal department. Mr.'Mitchell serves other departments of the government. The seal of the secretary of the navy and the seals of the internal revenue service from \laska to Florida and Maine are out of his studio. In the engraving of stones. Mr. Mitchell uses a revolving steel knife, touched with diamond dust and oil: in the engraving of steel dies for the manufacture of the stamped envelopes only a hard steel knife, yet you can count nearly all the intaglio engravers of steel on one hand. MAKING A SHORT CUT1 NEW YORK DREDGING NEW CHAN NEL FOR BIG SHIPS. Millions Are Being Spent to Give a Quicker and Safer Route to Inner Harbcr. At a probable cost of $4,000,000 there is being (lug in Mew York har bor a new channel v, hicli will reduce the distance ships will have to tra - erse in passing in from the Atlantic ocean to their dockage in East river. 1 In fact the work which has been go ing on for years has progressed so rap idly that within a year it is expected that the Ambrose channel, as it is called, will be available for use of in coming and outgoing vessels. Refer ence to our illustration will ai once make clear the advantage of the new tsrfSrgM jSLRtiD_ ■■ — ■— ■■■ - Map Showing the New and the Old Channel. channel over the one that is in use at the present time. The project for dredging the chan nel was adopted by the government in 1899, the total cost of which was esti mated to be $4,000,000. Thi-3 plan in volved the excavation of a channel about seven miles in length, 2,000 feet wide and 40 feet deep at mean low wa ter. Four great dredges, the Manhat tan. Atlantic, Mills and Thomas, built expressly for the work at a cost of nearly $1,500,000, have been engaged in the work. When fully completed such a channel means that ocean steamers may enter the harbor and depart therefrom at any stage of the tide, and a regular hour of sailing may be made, thus obviating the necessity of leaving some days at six o'clock in the morning^ and other days at all hours up to four o’clock in the after noon. The original depth of water over this course was 1G feet, which made it dangerous to navigate except by tugs and the smaller class of coast ing vessels. The fact, .few vessels at tempted to cross the shallow middle ground, their commanders fully appre ciating the great danger of such a course. The steam dredges which have been engaged in this stupendous task are among the most interesting vessels in the world to-day. They are a modern invention, a type of craft which has been evolved by marine engineers to meet the demands of twentieth cen tury progress. The ships—which do not look unlike ordinary ocean-going steamers—not only do the digging, but fill, themselves and carry their loads to sea. where they dump the mud and return lor another lead, in this way wonderful progress is made, and as they can work in rough water there is practically no limit to their perform ance. By means of powerful centrifugal suction pumps the mud and sand on the bottom is sucked up and forced into large hoppers in the center of the; vessel, the surplus water running off as the hoppers are being filled. When a full load is secured the ve ;sel steams off to sea and discharges the entiie load into deep water. When these odd craft are at work sucking up mud. sand, gravel and even great boulders—in fact, whatever comes within several yards of their ca; acious maws—they are like enor mous sea monsters feeding on the floor of the ocean and taking every thing 'within reach. At the present time the route for steamships making for the sea from new York harbor is by way of Gedney channel and the so-called main ship channel, which sweeps in around Sandy Hook bay, describing a complete horse shoe. In this channel the depth of water is now 30 feet at low tide, and when dredged to this depth a few years ago it was thought to be ample for the needs of commerce for years to come; but ocean steamers have in creased in size so rapidly during the past ten years that only on the highest tides can the big fellows enter and leave the harbor. To-day it is not sate, to load a boat to a greater depth than 32 to 35 feet, although many of the ships now trading at this port, if filled to their capacities, would go down in to the water to nearly 40 feet. The new 7S5-foot Cunarders Mauretania and Lusitania, now building in Eng land, and which will be placed in com mission next year, will draw, with full loads, over 35 feet. At the present ratio of increase it will not be many years before ocean steamers will draw 40 feet and over, at which time they will not be able to get in or out of the harbor except by means of the com pleted Ambrose channel. Indeed, ship builders and ship owners are only waiting the time when harbors will lie enlarged to increase the draft of water of the steamers. TWO KINDS OF POUNDS. Mr. Phat—I’ve gained four pounds since I came here. Miss Slim—Have you? I’ve just money enough to last the week.— Scraps. “This fish is bad, Ethel,” I said, as I surveyed a piece of ancient-looking v.laice. Ethel looked up from her plate with a start.. “Bad?” she said. “I think you must be mistaken, Jack.” “Xot much room for a mistake here. The fish doth protest too much.” “You have had a bad day downtown,” retorted Ethel, “and in consequence are somewhat critical and bad-tem pered.” "One doesn't need to be very critical to discover a fact that is so obvious.” “The fish isn't bad, and you have no right to say so. It's a reflection on me.” "Nothing of the sort. It's a reflec tion on the fish dealer.” "Ii's a reflection on my housekeep ing. And I got three prizes for do mestic economy at school and 1 have studied the subject deeply ever since we were engaged. And here you are finding fault after we have been mar ried only a month.” And Ethel burst into tears. "Well, there is no need to make such a fuss over a small matter.” "it’s not a small matter to be found fault with by one’s husband. And I—I thought you so different from other men! ” Here followed another rainstorm. "And I thought you were a deal pret tier and had more common sense than the average woman.” Ethel unconsciously , ut a rebelli ous curl into position at this remark. “You married me simply because you wanted a housekeeper. I can or der the fish, but I can't order the weather,” she moaned as she proceed ed to drench a lace handkerchief. I could not help but notice, with a cer tain amount of satisfaction, that she was one of the very few women who can cry without making their noses red. “Don't behave like a spoiled child,” I said. “Do try and be reasonable.” "The law interferes when a man beats his wife,” continued Ethel, "but when he treats her with refined cru elty she has no remedy.” And the lace handkerchief went into play again. "I think I had better leave yon to yourself for a short time,” I said, "and then, perhaps, when I return you will be clothed in your right mind. I will look in at the club.” Ethel sat bolt upright at the men non or tne odious word. “Club!” she said, and her eyes blazed. "Yes, go to the club, stay at the club, live at the club! And may the club fail in upon all those heart less husbands who have deserted their heartbroken wives!" "A nice, pious wish for a four weeks' old wife.” “It's a fate too good for such con duct.” “If during my absence," I said “you find time hang heavily on you hands, you might read ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’ " “Thanks for the advice,” retorted Ethel. "Men are not the indispensable creatures they appear to think. 1 shall have no difficulty in occupying my time.. I, too, w ill look in at my club.” “Ethel." I said, sternly, “I was not aware you belonged to a club.” “That's quite likely,” she replied in an exasperating tone of voice. “Bella Dashwood belongs to the ‘Doves,’ and I will look her up this evening. It will be a good opportunity to have my name put down for membership. If is as well to have outside interests when one's husband is merely a lodger" At this remark I stalked out ;ho room and closed the door with a fie. ■ of energy. On entering the chib I met a fat. selfish bachelor. I am now of the opinion that all bachelors are selfish. “Looking rather hippy, Carlton," he cried. “Doesn't doable harness suit, you? 1 notice all you newly married men slink back here after a few weeks of matrimonial strife.” I refrained from kicking the ani mated barrel and passed into the bil liard room. After missing a couple of easy caroms and nearly slicing a piece of the cloth. I threw the whole busi ness up in disgust and returned home. 1 wondered how Ethel was enjoying herself at the club. I thought I would just look in her room to make sure that she had gone. The door was open and 1 entered, there was Ethel, and as she caught sight of me she imme diately pushed a book, which I recog nized as a learned treatise on cookery, under some cushions. Her eyes were very red and i felt like a brute. “They keep very good hours at your club," I said. “O, I didn’t go after all; it was too much trouble to change my things. Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked with formal politeness. “No; I didn’t.” “I trust your capacity for enjoyment has not entirely deserted you.” “On the contrary, it has been greatly Increased. But I prefer a mixed club." “You might have saved me that re mark,” said Ethel. "Though you may not find satisfaction in the company of your own wife, you might at least re frain from boasting to her of your predilection for the company of other women.” 1 went over to Ethel and put my arm around her. “I repeat, I prefer a mixed club like this, where I can always meet the pret tiest and most reasonable woman in the world—the woman I love.” “I, too, think this kind of club best.” said Ethel, as she held her face up to be kissed.—Baltimore Sun. Too Much Evidence. Anthony Preszyniski produced his wife’s ashes and a certificate from a crematory company as evidence of her death wrtien he tried to withdraw' her deposit worn a Vienna bank. The cashier has since posted a notice ex plaining that an affidavit is all that is necessary.—Wiener Caricaturen. An Office Ruse. Another way to get the office boy into the habit of sweeping under the radiator is to put a quarter there oc casionally.—Exchange. A DESPERATE GAME j By Julian Ralph iinmmmwmmmmEamoMmcT—gai—- ——— —i— i —-r-m—!-■?■■■ m ■ ■ — —9 (Copyright, 1906, by Joseph B. Bowles.) Barney Moriarty had done well for himself. Starting with nothing but I health and ambition, he got a city lot on the strength of money he did not have, and then got the money on the strength of owning the lot. After this he built a monument to his own suc cess in the form of an apartment house in which he set up his own home, and on the granite front of which he blazoned his triumph in carved letters reading "Moriarty Mai sonette.” By a mere chance, no one except Florence, the elevator boy, was at hand when Miss Cordelia livrne called to inspect the fifth floor back, which was advertised for rent. She took it : and her furniture came the next morn ing, when Mr. Moriarty was again ab-« sent. Miss Byrne was about 20 years of l age, slender, of middle stature and dressed habitually in black or dark blue. How anyone who looked at her j melting blue eyes, her sensitive pout ing mouth, and her pale complexion. I enriched by her auburn hair, could have found reason to doubt her good ness, few men would be able to say. Among her belongings was an up right piano, and she and it combined altered the temper of the people in the Moriarty Maisonette with a sud denness, and to a degree, which was astonishing. This was because she and it either knew but one tune, or, at any rate, played but one. This was a dainty, rippling trifle by Pader ewski. On the first afternoon and evening Miss Byrne played the Pader ewski peasant dance over some dozen times. Now when the exquisite, roll icking. merry, melodic current flowed j through the wall to the fifth floor I front, through the floor to the fourth ! story suites and through the ceiling j to the sixth story’s tiny homes, the j "star" tenant sat entranced, his silken robed better half leaned forward, plucking her youngest from the floor to bid it listen to “the pooty moo zicks.” f'pstairs and downstairs the delighted tenants blessed the day that Moriarty’s builders scamped then work, leaving the house so like a col ander that Cordelia P.yrne could play them all into the seventh heaven of delight with Paderewski's peasant dance—so suited to the joyous tem perament of the Irish audience and to their pretty taste in music. Miss Byrne was taken into the i warmest corners of the hearts in the j Maisonette on that night. She could | almost have demanded instant mem- j bership in the Bloomingdale Bowling club, to which nearly all the tenants belonged. That was. as we recollect it, on a Friday night. The following Wednes- j day found everything unchanged ex cept the temper of Moriarty’s tenants, j That night the Pinochle club, com- ; posed of six of the male tenants of the Maisonette, met in Mr. Mahoney's apartments. Five of the members I i were on hand promptly and waited J for Sir. Moriarty, the sixth, to arrive. Miss Cordelia Byrne, in the rear suite i on the same floor with the Mahoneys, regaled the club members with that choice morceau of Paderewski's to which we havj- referred, and with which all the men and women in the Maisonette had for some time been familiar. The plot was afoot. The innocent proprietor of what he once boasted as being “the happiest bunch of homes on ! the island" was to be trapped when he j came for a night’s enjoyment, by a ! rebellious band cf tenants who had 1 sworn that either they. Miss Byrne or i her piano must leave the house on the i I iirst ot me incoming montn. Meanwhile Miss Byrne finished the one hundred and , sixty-eighth rendi tion of the dainty peasant dance, and, j j closing the piano, moved across the I neat and cozy parlor, faintly perfumed j with a delicate odor of lilac, to the lit- i tie writing table and penned a note | to her sister. We may read over her shoulders as she writes: "There is nothing to write, only 1 ; know you are wondering. It is win all or lose all with me. I may go back I to the counter of a department store —but it won't be until I have to. “I’ve taken the little money mother left me and furnished the apartment and dressed myself with the quietest taste, so as to look ladylike on the smallest outlay. I've thrown myself headlong into everything that’s doing in a swell church, and I am so quiet and demure that I don't think you’d recognize your merry romp of a sister j if you saw me. Butter wouldn't melt in my mouth and I never lift my eyes ! above the sidewalk. I should have thought by this time some man would ! break his neck, almost to get acquaint- ! ed with me, just to see if he cou.du't ! make me raise my eyes. “The trouble is that I only see wom en at the church, and I made a bad choice of an apartment house because the men here are nearly all married and are such oysters that not one has yet made my acquaintance. The land- ; lord is single, though, and rich. “Xot that I want to fool anybody. ! Lou, dear. Only, I’m as good as any j | girl that’s got a home and a husband j —and love. I’m too good to stand and yell ‘cash! here, cash!’ behind a coun- ; ter, year in and year out, with a filmy,, one-to-a-thousand chance of marrying a floor walker before I die. “I am so lonely and I am playing such a desperate game! But if you could look in on me, Lou, I'd just sim ply let loose aud we'd have a real old time romp. I am breaking the ice here in the Moriarty Maisonette in the 1 funniest way. I am doing it with a j piano. It’s bound to get me acquaint- j ed with somebody of the adorable sex. ! But you must wait until I tell you how my piano is helping me—when 1 know how it all turns out. Your loving sister, “CORDELIA.” “That’s our ..last word, Moriarty,” Mr. Mahoney was saying to the land lord, who stood with his back against the wall, facing the other members of the Pinochle club, “the Maisonette’s turned into £ music box that plays onlv the one tune, and it’s a case of ‘good riddance to bad rubbish' wit the lot of us.’’ “Hold on, now,” said Moriartj “what's tiie use of such talk betwee friends? Leave it to me. I'll go am see the girl and give her the Ki-bosh I all right. What’s her and her pianne , to me. where the likes o' you oli I friends is concerned?” 1 When Miss Byrne opened the doo \ to receive his visit, she greeted hit with such evident, though guarded am blushing, pride, as would have flat '• tered any man alive. As she set out ; chair for him, she said that he wa ; the first visitor who had honored he i apartments and that she thought i | most kind of hint to pay her this higi ! compliment. She was not so ove'r i come with delight but that she be j thought herself to open the door inti i the hall and leave it open during hi) ' visit. Then she sat opposite to him at a well chosen distance, suggest!vt 'S' Sat opposite him. neither of familiarity nor prud sh de corum. And. all" the time, she let flow a current of the most shrewdly chosen remarks, the purpose of which was veiled by great maidenly simplicity and modesty. Sometimes a very obscure little woman reveals the genius of a great diplomat in ways such as these. While Mr. Moriarty was yielding to a sense of shame for having planned rudeness to so pretty a little lady, he gradually became interested n the matter, as well as the manner, of hot speech. He learned of her lon.diness. her piety, her domesticity and of her very respectable family connections. His sympathy was first aroused, then his admiration. His gallantry yielded to devotion. He was netted like a moth; and as the wings of his freedom were rumpled in the meshes of her attractions, lie felt the danger that threatened. But he made no effort to escape. He was a very willing cap tive. "But how rude I have been'” Miss Byrne presently exclaimed. “I have not asked whether you had any special errand. Or, did you really come to offer me the first kind word I have had in my new home?” “1 heard your pianner,” the clumsy fellow began in reply, “and—and—” He pretty nearly blurted out the truth. “Oh! did you like the little piece 1 was playing: " Twas the most angelic town ever I heard in my life," Moriarty an swercd, recovering his native tact. “Then do let me play it for yon. Oh, 1 don't mind a bit.” She ended the performance with a rncdley of Irish airs, played with a fair amount of cleverness. She was finished. And the last string which held Moriarty's heart in place was loosened; both that organ and his brain went ailoat upon the trouble 1 sea of love. When, at length, he bid Miss Byrne good night, she dropped a hint that leer pious duties at St. Catharine's were Interesting her to such a degree that she was seriously thinking of “taking the veil” and devoting herself to the church. The rogue said this so soberly, with such half expressed sug gestion of earnestness and doubt ofj her worthiness that she put Moriarty in an agony lest she should take holy vows before it would he fit time for him to propose marriage to her. Facing his friends at the card tame somewhat later, he was unable to con ceal his scorn for their unmanly be havior of an hour before. “We'll pass no words,” said he, "ex cept that I'll be saying this: Come or go. as ye will, but that lone girl'll not be inconvanienced by anybody or any thing while she does us all the honor to seek shelter under thi3 roof!” KINDNESS BROUGHT A FORTUNE. Cood Samaritan Receives One-Fifth of Rich Man’s Estate. Denver, Colo.—Because he befriend ed Dr. Albert B. Cummings, of Pitts burg, Pa., many years ago, VV. P. Har ris, of Denver, has received $13,500. In 1889 Harris was employed in a hotel at Cres.son. Pa., where Dr. Cum mings, a guest of the hotel, was taken ill one night, and Harris, an absolute ' stranger, attended him until he recov eiad. They met but once afterward, at a dinner table. Harris recently received a letter from the lawyer of Dr. Cummings, stating that the physician had died and in his will bequeathed young Har ris his entire estate, valued at between $50,000 and $75,000. Later relatives contested the will, and a short time ago a compromise was effected by which Harris accepted $13,500. Harris is at present salesman for a biscuit company. Pot Luck. Stay and take pot luck with us. won't you, old man?” "Yes—provided it isn’t potted luck.” —Judge.
