Semi-weekly Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 25 May 1897 — Page 6

LOCKED OIITJ DISTRESS

ft NEW YORKER'S HARROWING EXPERIENCE ,, IN UNDERCLOTHES ON A WARM NIGHT

HE WENT TO LET 111 THE DOG

The Door Was Blown Shut, and There "Was Nobody to Let Him in -A Policeman Came.

He is a sensitive man and lives in one of the picturesque rows uptown, on the west side in Greater New York, in which no two houses are alike. The other day his wife and daughter went to Newburg for a short visit, and when evening came, the cook went out to call on another cook and the waitress took a spin on a tandem on the Boulevacd. He was left alone, and, the night being quite warm, he shut himself in his room and stripped down to his underclothes and stockings, feeling sure that he would not be disturbed during the evening. A little before 10 o'clock he heard a dog whine, and remembered that his daughter's Skye was outdoors. Feeling certain that the dog was on the front stoop, he hurried downstairs in undress and opened the front door far enough to admit a dog. There was no dog in the vestibule, and, as it was quite dark there, he stepped out to look on the stoop beyond the outer door. As he did so, a gust of wind from somewhere slammed the inner door shut, and he realized that he was locked out. He said, in telling the story to a friend: "I did not know .my utter helplessness until I reached for my waistcoat pocket to get my latchkey. Then I began to think hard, and the more I thought the less I liked my predicament. The cook and housemaid would come home in time, but I couldn't -pee,, that, their arrival held out any promise. I didn't want to see them a little bit, and I knew that they would not care to see me. They had keys to

THE BASEMENT DOOR,

and would go in that way. Then I thought of a way of getting out of my dilemma. I have a friend in the third house west of mine. In fact, he is the only man I know in the whole streets I felt that if I could reach his house I could at least get some clothes and be in condition to meet 'the servants on their return. The street was apparently desertde, and I thought I would make a dash for the shelter.of Jim's doorway, but just as I stepped out of the door a man and a woman turned the corner and walked slowly by, while I cowered behind the door. Another start was interrupted by a couple of girls coming up the street, and a carriage drove by just as I was getting ready to make the third break. Then the frowsy little cur that caused my trouble came trotting up the steps and I, could not resist the temptation I kicked him off the stoop. He howled as he went bumping down to the sidewalk, and it was evident that he did not recognize me for, putting his front paws on the bottom step he begari barking. He kept at it until I thought he would have the whole neighborhood alarmed, and I tried persuasion to get him into the vestibule. He seemed to recognize my voice, and, putting his tail between his legs, crept down the area steps. I thought that I had been locked out for at least an hour and mechanically felt for my watch. Then the 10 o'clock bells rang and I knew that I had not been more than fifteen minutes in my predicament. It occurred to me then that it could not be long before a policeman came and I could send

HIM TO JIM'S

for clotes. Nobody came along but ordinary men and women, however, and I think that the street was considerably livelier that night than I ever knew it to be before. I fretted myself warm in spite or the fact that the open air was rather chilly for my light attire. At last, when the coast seemed clear and I was about to make a dash for Jim's, I thought of the fact that I had not latched either of the parlor windows, and I wondered if I could reach them. To my great joy I discovered that from a treacherous footing on the ledge which ran across the front of the house I cottfd cling with one hand to the side strip of the window frame. The windows are heavy, onepane affairs, and there was no way of raising them except by pressing the palm of the hand against the glass and pushing inward and upward until I could get my fingers under the sash. It was some time before I succeeded, and I was thanking my stars that the street was clear when I heard a shout and the sound of hurrying feet up toward the corner. I had doubted until that moment that I would have strength enough left to crawl into the window, but that shout settled it. I flung myself in and fell on the floor, exhausted, and panting for breath, as the runner stopped in front of the house and commanded me to come out and surrender. I recognized thit it was a policeman, and, sitting up so that'my toead was above the sill, I began to explain. Just then a female voice floated across the street saying: 'Officer, you ought to lock that lunatic up. I've been watching his vulgar actions for half an hour, and it's a disgrace to the whole neighborhood.' I went to the front door and called the policeman into the vestibule, where I fully satisfied him that I was the tenant of the house and then fired a ball or two into him." "What? Shot him?" "Oh, no. He wasn't even half shot when he left me. They were balls out of the decanter on the sideboard? I just managed to get him out and skip to my room when I heard the cook come in Quickly, followed by the housemaid, and as I was dressing to go downstairs and lock up the parlor I heard them talking about the open window and speculating about burglars being in the house. They seemed to think that the dog was acting strangely just because he was still grieving over his first kick."

Not Much of a Father.

In one of our large dry goods stores is enjoyed a young man of diminutive Stature and somewhat feminine appearance, although a tip-top salesman. One day, not long since, a little girl was sent to the shop to make some purchases, and it fell to the lot 6f this young man to attend her. She was a mere bunch of femininity, not able to talk plainly. She asked if he had any "totten flannel."

Ho replied that he had, and asked how much she wanted. "I don't know," was the reply. "Well, what do you want it for?" "Want to make papa a shirt." "Well, how big is your papa? Is he as big as me?" "Big as you?" said the little maiden. "I should think he is. He wouldn't be much of a papa if he wasn't."

There He Drew the Line.

"Pardon me," said the polite highwayman. "but I must ask you to stand and deliver."

The coach stopped. The door opened With surprising alacrity, and a young woman with a very large hat stepped out into the moonlight. In her hand she held & small leather-covered box. "Here they are." she said, cheerfully. "What?" said the highwayman. "My diamonds," said the lady. "I am in actress, you know, and

The highwayman leaped upon his horse. "Madam." said he, removing his hat gracefully, "you must excuse me. I may be a highwayman, but I am not an adrertisement."

London's Street Fountains.

There are Sow 712 fountains for fc vman beings, 2S6 large troughs for horses and eat tie, and 476 small troughs for sheep Mid dog in the streets and suburbs of London. During a period of twenty-four hours the fountains have been used by jnore than 2.500.0(H) persons., while at the '.roughs 500,000 horses have quenched their ILirt-t.

Self-Made.

y? "This is a great country for the self--made man.'" Ssaid the visiting foreigner. "Oh, yes." assented the native. "Especially the self-made nobleman." ^. ......

Mr. Robert Fitzsimmons, of Cornwall, Australia, or Carson City, as you choose, is about to appear in a brand-new play. He will be the hero of it, of course, because that is what the play is for, and throughout tli's entire four acts he will be. seen to the best advantage as blacksmith, pugilist and gent. The "Hero of Helston" is the title of the play, Helston being the birthplace in Cornwall of the doughty man-at-arms.

You must not

suppose, however, that Mr. Fjtzsimmons will saunter through the four acts knocking out every one in sight, because that isn't the sort of play it is. Instead the audience will be.treated to three-minute rounds of love-making, where a beautiful young maiden, with a half-Nelson clutch about the blushing Bob, will tell him over and over again to slow music that she is his truly own. However, the sporting element is considered in the fourth act, when the villain of the play is foiled in a three-round mill according to Queensberry rules. Mr. Fitzsimmons' play for one thing will be realistic from start to finish. In the first act the curtain will rise upon a "really truly" blacksmith shop. In the background will be a glowing forge, tastefully decorated with sledge-hammers, tongs and a few dozen bona fide horseshoes. The hour is noon. You know this because Jim Harold—that's Bob—will tell you all about it when the curtain goes tip. All

THE OTHER WORKMEN

have gone home to eat, but as a stage hero never eats, Jim Harold is tinkering around at a few pounds of brass and steel. During the spirited and one-sided conversation he holds with himself, he lets out the interesting information that this chunk of machinery is a lock. The audience is.also let into the secret that he expects to make a few hundred thousand dollars out of the contrivance some day or other. He is still imparting to the atmosphere "lil.'the'fine points of his lock—just as if he was talking to a millionaire about^t—when in pops the heroine. In the play her name is Ethel Jarrett. She is looking for her father and of course she asks Jin^ whether .he is in the shoJ. Jim—that's Bob—leans languidly against the anvil and turns on his rhetoric. Softly and sweetly he tells the bashful young maiden of his love. Of course she is deeply impressed—how could she help it when she must be'sure that after all it is Bob Fitzsimmons that is talking to her. Very cleverly the dramatist leads the love story up to the subject of locks. This is an entirely new situation upon the stage. Heretofore it was always believed that love laughed at locksmiths, but in this case cupid does the other thing, and.the young woman becomes highly interested. "What is that, Jim?'' she asks,, and he responds: "A burglar-proof lock, girl. I defy any man to oyen it unless he has seen the works. It will make me a rich man."

Ethel—And then you can lock up all you.'' money and it will be safe. Jim—Not from you you shall have the combination. (Touching, isn't it?)

F.lhel—Why? Jim—Because you have already opened my heart, and what is mine, Ethel, is yours, lock or no lock.

Jn consideration that she may have all his money, week days and Saturday nights included, he leans down as if to press a kiss upon her hand. A real whistle, blown by real steam, will toot-a-toot at this minute, giving a cue to the make-believe forgehands to rush upon the stage. The villain of the play, Jack Bassett, at this moment pops out from a place from which it is apparent to every one that he must have heard young Sledge-Hammer's secret. It is apparent

MISS-MISS AND THE BEAK.

Indian Warrior's Capture of a Grizzly Jnst in the Nick of Time. "There is but one beast that the Indians are really afraid of," said Egerton Young, the Baptist minister, who recentlv returned from a long sojourn among the Hudson Bay tribes, where he was the pioneer missionary. "That is the grizzly bear, the tiger, of North America. Only once have I heard of a grizzly being captured alive, and in that case the feat saved the life of a famous old warrior. Among many of the Hudson Bay tribes it is the custom for the able-bodied to put to death the old men and women who are no longer able to do their share of the work. The old women are simply knocked on the head without ceremony. The process- of getting rid of an old man is more elaborate. The Indians do not think it well 'to slain their hands with the blood of one who was once a warrior. So they delegate the task to .their hereditary enemies, the wolves, to which they render all assistance in their power. When it has been decided at a solemn powwow that any particular old man is to die, instructions are given to a number of young men to take measures to get rid of 'him immediately. Among the executioners are always 'the sons of the condemned man. The day after sentence has been passed these executioners call on the veteran, attack him with stones and spears, and drive him into the wilderness. There they leave him to his fate. A fewdays later they return and collect a few well-gnawed bones, which they bring back' with fitting ccremonles. Among all the warriors belonging to a tribe with which I made a long sojourn, none had a more glorious record than Mis.«-Miss. But MissMiss was getting old. His eyes were dim. his hands were slow, and rarely did he bring home a fat buck. Furthermore, food was scarce, and Miss-Miss retained an excellent appetite. One morning MissMiss received orders to be prepared to receive the next day-afdelegation of young braves led by his two stalwart sons. But Miss-Miss, though he had assisted in many such ceremonies in his day, had not yet come to consider himself old and useless. He was very angry. Just as Miss-Miss had done reviling the ingratitude of the young, a boy rushed in to say that a huge grizzly was feeding a short distance from the camp. Here was the veteran's chance. All the braves were away at the hunt. Children and squaws and Miss-Miss were the sole oc-" cupants of the camp. He knew that to face a grizzly single-handed was certain death, but it was the death of a man. So Miss-Miss armed himself with his spear and tomahawk, and went forth to seek the bear. He had not far to go. Within a few hundred yards of the camp he espied the largest and leanest bear he had seen for years, making a scanty meal off dried roots. Crawling up as close as he could, he hurled his spear. The weapon struck Che bear in the flank. As he had calculated, the wound had no further effect than to infuriate the brute and turn its attention upon him. MissMiss took his stand with his back to a tree, grasped his little tomahawk firmly, and awaited death. Now had it been an ordinary little black bear the peril of Miss-Miss would have been small. A black tear would have risen on its hind legs when it came to close quarters, and. leaving its chest quite unprotected, tried to insert its paws between the man and the tree in order to hug him to death. All Miss-Miss would have had to do would have been to wait until it came within arm's length and plunge his hunting knife into its chest. One thrust would have been sufficient. But a grizzly is different. It strikes with its mighty claws. Miss-Miss awaited the onset. When the bear came to close quarters it rose on its hind legs and made a mighty, sweeping blow at his body. Setting his teeth Miss-Miss stmck at its head with his tomahawk. The weapon was dashed from his grasp and he was hurled to the ground, but much to his surprise, unWijured. InsUjad of the sharp claws in his side he had ^elt a mighty buffet as if from a huge boxing glove, Miss-Miss scrambled to his feet. The next glance explained matters. Like himself the tear was a veteran. It had lost its claws long since. Miss-Miss dodged rpund and found

•O-

.HIW0LD-

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that he is real mad. He loves sweet Ethel himself, and he swears with a case-hardened oath that no unwashed forge-tinker shall ever have her while he lives—bzzz-zz-z! One of the greatest scenes in the play displays the interior of the forge at the busiest hour of the day. It will show "wz

A LOT OF BLACKSMITHS

turning out wagon tires one after the other with papier-mache anvils and tin hammers. A few property fires will blaze about the stage and in the centre will be a huge crane. In this scene Jim gets in, his fine work. Just like all other heroines, Ethel is hanging around the place, where she has absolutely no business at all, just about the time the aforesaid crane lifts a red-hot tire from the flames. Engaged in a spirited conversation with some one or other in the centre of the stage, she will never notice that the blazing metal is lurching straight towards her. But Jim will. Just watch him. As the red-hot iron is about to fall upon the fair young thing Jim will leap across the anvil and take his stand with open arms and chest expanded directly in its path. Of course there would be plenty of time for him to turn around and tell Ethel to go play somewhere else, but that wouldn't give the hero a chance. He has to stand there until the red-hot tire burns off his shirt and bites holes in his indurated chest development. Then

his tree and from one tree to another. The bear, whose sight was dim with age, aimed blow after blow, with no other effect than that of bruising its paws against the trunks. The fight went on and Miss-Miss's strength was giving way, when through an opening in the forest he espied the blaze of the camp fires close at hand. The bear saw it too, and with a grunt of disgust and disappointment turned round and trotted back into the depths of the forest to resume its meal. Miss-Miss hastened back to the camp and called the oldest of the boys together. 'Take your lassoes,' he cried, 'and we will capture a grizzly alive!' So they went. When the party arrived within range, Miss-Miss whistled. The bear raised its head and the boys cast their lassoes. One noose fell over the brute's neck. When the braves returned in the evening, prepared to chase Miss-Miss into the wilderness, they found a huge, roaring grizzly tethered in the middle of the camp. No one of the tribe ever had done such a deed. They concludcd the Great Spirit had willed that Miss-Miss should live, and Miss-Miss is alive to-day and in high honor with the tribe."

SINCE DAD STRUCK OIL.

Since dad hez struck a streak of luck, an' brought us into town. I've tried my best to be at rest, and settle calmly down But everything's contracted so I don feel good ner free, And can't git used to city ways ner they git used to me, And while we're living better than we ever did before. In them old days of country ways, when we was all so poor, Our happiness is kind o' drowned beneath a wild turmoil. That makes you fret and most regret your dad discovered oil.

We're got two pairs of windin' stairs, a fireplace in the hall, A Turkish mat, a chiny cat, and pictures on the wall And neighbors don't drop in and talk like neighbors uster do, But simply say the time of day, or mebbe "How-dy-do." And maw, she orders up next day our driver with his hack. To drive aroun' the whole blamed town, to Day them callers back, And when we kick she says the trick is strictly after Hoyle, Which makes it right and proper now, since dad discovered oil.

What do we care for style and things we never had before? Where is the consolation when a feller's heart is sore? I want to go and hang around and visit 'round the place, A baskln' in the sunshine of an old familiar face, And hear a girlish whisper, feel a pressing of the hand. And listen to a language that all lovers understand, And seek some consolation from this endless world of toil Which maw calls "social duties" now, since dad discovered oil.

Dockery Got His Kind.

Col. Joe Johnston, who has been a post office inspector for long years, is an old chum of Dockery of Missouri. The other day after dinner at Willard's the two stepped to tlie cigar stand to get what is indispensible to every true Missourian. "Let's have some of the kind of cigars Dockery always smokes," said Col. Johnston. "Here, Dockery, take one, and put two or three in your pocket." added the colonel, with much exhibition of conscious liberality.

Dockery availed himself of the treat, but without great enthusiasm. "Now." said the colonel to the man of cigars, and beaming with comfortable feeling, "give me some good cigars for myself." ,,

Why She Objected.

"I don't like this end of the century fad." Said Miss Shelf, with an outburst of rage "For a man will come round with his census sheet pad f?And actually ask me my age."

Not Balanced.

That man is reckoned a sage, no doubtHis lore I would not scoffBut just as soon as tfce sun shone out

He took his flannels off.

"LANKY BOB" FITZSIMMONS' NEW MELODRAMA

The Carson City Hero to Be a Star—In the Four Acts the Hero :Wins Fame and Fortune.

ijf-rMOMEYjfc

SCENES IN FITZSIMMONS' NEW PLAY

with an agonizing stare he will fall to the floor amid large puffs of property smoke. Absolutely regardless of her nice, clean frock, Ethel will plump down beside him and scream. In response to this Jim will groan loud enough for all the galleries to hear, and Ethel, with her eyes fixed on the top bench, will make those impassioned remarks: "Jim! Jim! Oh. God! Father, he is dead! Will no one help me? Water, men! Water! Quick!"

Some one hands her a bucket of real water at this point, and she dashes it on the smouldering shirt. Then she tears the garment from his breast and Jim rolls over in his agony in order to give the orchestra circle a chance to see the

LARGE }ftED BURN

that is upon his chest. Finally the ambulance comes and Ethel guesses she will go with Jim to the hospital, but the ambulance surgeon tells her to guess again. So Ethel stays to have a good cry.

While Ethel is still weeping the villain, Bassett, enters. "Tears for him, eh?" he sneers, "but never a ^mile for me. So you love him, do you? And you have the combination to liis heart. Well, you will not enter to it if John Bassett knows himself. And as for the lock I will reap what harvest there is to be gleaned from it. Go on crying, my pretty one, for your hero. When he Reaves the hospital—curse him—

RAISING BABIES III BOXES

INCUBATORS ARE BECOMING 1/ERY POPULAR IN REARING DELICATE INFANTS.

SUCCESS STIMULATED ENDEAVOR

Several Cliic&co Hospitals Now Provided Witli the Latest ImprovementsHow They Are Constructed.

The "incubated baby" is a howling success. After all, it depends. The prematurely born child has but a slight chance of one wail in life, even with the help of one of the new and wonderful pieces of' licchanism known as the "baby incubator." The little newcomer nursed in a hot 'box and under a glass case to the howling stage of baby existence is therefore ^somewhat of a curiosity. The baby incubator is beginning to be used in Chicago^ The only firm that handles these curious infantine contrivances has in the last year sold two to Chicagoans. One is the possession of J. Ogden Armour and the other is the property of a dime museum manager. There is, by the wray, an interesting story connected with the uhexbected arrival of a new Armour heir s-ix? niontlis ago. The Armours had, unfortunately, lost several children by dfeath, and interest all along the Armour line was centered in the coming of the aristocratic little one who should bear the proud name and possess the pile of money of the Armours. The child came one day with but a faint spark of life. There was one shadow of hope—an incubator—and one of these queer contrivances was secured precipitately. Happily, the infant throva under the care of the wooden foster mother, and the 6-months'-old Armour baby is, of course, "the finest baby in the world." The dime museum incubator is at present inhabitated by an unusually healthy youngster which the manager has widely advised as being "raised on electricity." The child has long ago passed

THE EARLY STAGE

of incubation, but the gullible sightseers have at least the worth of their money in seeing a genuine incubator. Most of the Chicago hospitals have home-made incubators that are curiosities. They have been such a help in giving life to the prematurely born that, the physicians say, it is only a matter of short time until this wonderful invention with its complex scientific appliances is a part of every well-regulated hospital in the country. It was only seven years ago that the incubator made its appearance in Paris. Two years later it began to be used in New York, physician named Marz making great improvements over the original apparatus. Now it is making its way westward. The complete in-» cubator is a curious affair. It is analogous to the apparatus used to keep the animal heat and preserve the lives of young

chickens

after they are liatchcd.

The great desideratum is to keep the baby incubator at considerable heat. The temperature sought is about 90 degrees Fahrenheit. The incubator looks like a .wooden box. It is usually about feet long. 1% feet wide and feet high. 'Iiito this minature bed the baby, wrapped in lambs' wool, ia/placcd. A thermometer is inserted at the side, the glass Hd is closed arid the struggle for life begins under the eternal vigilance of sev«»-al doctors and a day and night nurse. .- The baby rests on a mattress, beneatty. which are delicate scales, which register at the top of the incubator its increase or decrease in weight. Immediately over the

BABY'S HEAD ,,2

is a wifie frame to protect against breakage of the glass lid. This lid, by the way, is only raised at intervals of feeding the infant, but through it two eyes are watching every minute the faint symptoms of life. There are all sorts of scientific arrangements in this queer box. Down in one corner,is a lamp with its heating flue and ventilating exit. This heat keeps at proper temperature the water pipes. There are also fresh air tubes. Before the day of the incubator the same end was sought with the pre­

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poiveo AMD

p- *.°ve Jim-,

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I will be the patentee of the burglarproof lock." With this he picks -up the lock, while the first violin has nervous prostration in slow measure. In the next scene Jim spends several weeks in the hospital making love to Ethel and having vaseline put on his breast blister. Incidentally it comes out that the newspapers have dubbed him "The Hero of Helston." But even then he does not flee. He waits along until he receives word that a California relative has died, leaving him awfully rich. Then old man Jarrett discovers what a fine younff man Jim is, and after promising him a* partnership and his daughter lie sent him off to claim his fortune. Between the second and third acts a great deal happens of which the audience knows nothing until Jim gets time to tell them. It's a hard-luck story, too, all because his uncle had got the matrimony habit. You see, the old gentleman before dying was married five or six times and the widows took the case to the probate court and tied up the fortune. Being somewhat in need of ready money the jcpung hero gets a job in a foundry. All this while he has not written to Ethel. Jim tells the audience that it is disappointment that keeps him from writing—disappointment because he has not come in for his money. Blacksmithing being the next thing to prize-fighting, it is only natural that

maturely born child Jy keeping it In a hot room, but this cxc%ssive heat was so deleterious to the attending nurse that the scheme was abandoned. In a Presbyterian hospital in Chicago, the ingenuity of the women nurses was severely taxed in an effort to perfect a home-made incubator for a 6-months baby which arrived one day last winter. What the nurses really did wad to take a baby bed, which is a tiny contrivance with high sides, and line it with glass bottles filled with hot water. These bottles were the kind usually used tor canned fruit. The infant was wrapped in lambs' wool, covered with a blanket, surmounted with a thermometer, and, in spite.of all odds, decided life was worth the living. The name of this precopipus infant is Miss Gladys Koutchen and she lives on the west side. She is flow 4 months Old and perfectly healthy. Her case is so unusual throughout that the nurses fondly-call little Gladys "our. baby." "Little Gladys came to see us last Sunday," said Mirfs Florence Boyd, the head nurse, enthusiastically. "She is as fat is she can be and it was hard'to believe her the incubator baby. Prematurely born children have little chance of life, and tlje fact that she was unusually premature and has developed so wonderfully gives credit to our glass bottles, doesn't it?"

Little Miss Gladys also bears the distinction of having worn bloomers in the incubator. This ig certainly indisputable evidence that she will be^a bicycle girl of early impressions are

AS POWERFUL

as doctors declare. These bloomers, the nurse explained, were not after the bifurcated pattern worn nowadays, but a mere slip with bisected arm pieces. In the baby ward of the Cook county (111.) hospital is an apparatus suggestive of "boiled baby." It is a tiny wdoden box of asbestos lined with tin. The' baby is placed therein and a gas stove is: ignited beneath. Then the baby, has a. not tim en route to health. The feedjng, of the infant is no less interesting than the manipulation of the incubator pipes. It often happens that the child i».too feeble to be fed from the bottle' so a. medicine dropper is used to inject laboratory prepared milk into its mouth. The first dinner is apt to be the infinitesimal dose of one-half drachm of this milk. The mcdicine dropper is a glass tube with rubber attachments which necessitates no effort on the part of the infant. The incubated baby is an expensive bit of humanity. The latest scientific incubator, such as -.as been described, costs at least $100. This amunt is but a small part of the pot of gold necessary for the care of the little one. The almojst constant care of a physician for weeks^-ofien a baby is kept in an incubator sixty days—and the care of a nurse every minute of the nig-ht ar.d day, together with every precaution that must be taken in trie preparation of its food, conspire to draw many dollars from the family exchequer. "Yes, incubator business is booming," declared a Chicago dealer in these contrivaiiccs. "Within the year we have sold about a dozen. Most of the orders are from out of towrr*patrons, who telegraph in for

an

incubator itistanter, afid

then we hustle it. off tby the next train. The purchaser usually tur^ss the apparatus over to some hospital after it has served its purpose' and in? this way its value is becoming known' and appreciated. The invention is bound to fc!e a popular success."

Now that the bafcy incubator has come to stay it only remains for some inventive individual to devise a machine to prolong life at the other end of the line. It might properly bo called the "homo perpotuator."

An Illustration at Hand.

"Half the world," sagely observed Mr. Billus, "never knows what the other half is doing." "That's generally true," retorted Mrs. Billus. eying him sharply," as to the better half."

Distanced.

"I thought that your son was pursuing his studies at the university?" "So he was, but he coneluded that he couldn't catch up with them."'

Jim the hero should knock out a man or two. He wins fight after fight, all under an assumed name,* until he reaches the proud pinicle of being able to challenge the champion of the world. A11 through this act the audience hears again 'and again that the young hero is no common* low-down pug, but a real gent, and a.s a sensational climax to the sensational situation he thumps the dickens out of the champion in fourteen rounds. Then, he disappears. The ringside sees him no more. And after an absence of five c.ir» he returns to Heiston with nearly $100,000—in dollar bills—all won in prize-light-ing. Lots of things have happened Jim has been gone. Old man Jarrett, for instance, has built up a big business* and his daughter, the audience is led toT/' believe, Is now a real society lady, hat-T ever that may be. Bassett, the villain, ,^ has become the old man's business ad-„ viser. Asking his way to the best hot«,l* in town, young Jim registers and then goes up to give old Jarrett what sporting people are pleased to term "a "deadsure cori game." Ho tells him ho is a prominent merchant looking for an investment. He wears a pair of falsa whiskers, and Jarrett invites him to dine,, It is a memorable occasion, tho annivcrsary of the saving of Ethel's life. Jarrett proceeds to tell how the foundry^ young blacksmith had saved her won her love and disappeared. At this*" point Ethel enters, bows and extends her hand. Then she looks into Johnson's face and false whiskers. "That face! Where have I seen it be« fore?"

At the dinner table Bassett, the villain^ -l looks upon the wine when it is red. In* cidentally he brings in the burglar-proo lock. Mr. Jarrett says the lock is tlitf most substantial asset of the company, and Bassett, waxing even more boastful, offers'! to wager a thousand pounds that no one without the combination coula open the lock. Mr. Johnson allows thai he can open the lock himself, and Bas« sett bets he can't. Jim does it. In hi.| rage Bassett strikes the young hero nnJ there is a scene almost as exciting asvthg time when Fitz met Corbett in the bar* room. But

A THE YOUNG HERO' do sK not cross-counter or tap him on thq "bugle," as one might expect. Instead he brings forth a visiting card and scrvca it like a subpoena upon the passionate villain. "I will meet you at any place arranged by your seconds," he says. "I will bq there alone." And once again the curtain falls. In the fourth act, ot course, the villain is foiled. He meets the young hero in the woods and they strip tfl fight. As Jim bears his breast—samq breast as in the first act—old Jarrett an3 the villain exclaim in one voice: "Jim Harold, the Hero of Helston!"

Statistics ShoTy a Surprising Small List ol Fatalities From This Cause. A current news item gives the results of an investigation carried out by jJr. G. Stanley Hall, president of Clark university, on the things that most excite fear in people. Of the 29S classes of objects of fear to which 1,707 persons confessed, thunder and lightning lead all the rest, .although in certain localities, as, for instance, those subject to cyclones, etc., the fear of the latter predominates. It may be accepted as probably true that thunder storms constitute the most pronounced source of fear with the majority of people, due, no doubt, to the always impressive and not infrequently overpow-

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Bassett, mad for blood, goes in to wip" up the earth with his opponent. In three rounds Jim destroys all Bas« sett's pretensions to personal beauty an$ then stands over him waiting for some* thing else to happen. It happens. Ethel, having viewed the fight from a neighboring bush, leaps forth, screams gayly ones or twice and lays hold of her long-lost loyer with the same old half-Nelson clutch shown in the first act. laen ev«. erything is explained and the young hero^ having regained all he had lost—includ* ing the lock—folds Ethel to his scarred chest while the curtain falls to iuicli music. *•,

Great, isn't it?

'ot

Affected.

"Flour has gone tip ten cents a barrel.** "That's all right we buy ours by. th sack."

FOOLISH FEAR OF LIGHTNING.

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ing nature of the phenomenon. But is there any justification in fact for this fear, so far as fatal results are. concerned? We believe there is not, but, on the contrary, that many other causes which barely have a place in Dr. Hall's list are infinitely more entitled to the distinction as fear producers than is lightning. As proof of this we may cite statistics of the United States weather bureau. These showt that for the four years, 1S90-93, the deaths from lightning numbered 7S4, or an average of 1%' a yci'ir. Again, H. F. Ivretzer of St. Louis found from the record of nearly 200.newspapers that for the five years, 1SS3-SS, there were 1.0:i0 deaths caused by lightning, or an average of 205 a year. We doubt whether," of the number of deaths classed as "accidental" in the whole United States, any one group can show so small a number. In New York city alone over 200 people are drowned every year, whila nearly 130 are burned or scalded.to defith, and close to 500 persons meet their end by falls of one kind or another. Comparing the record of 200 lightning fatalities for the whole country with the above records for New York city, with its total of nearly 1,500 accidental deaths every year, it will bo seen how ground-/ less is the" popular fear of lightning. It/ is a survival, an inherited superstition^ But there is another point in connection with this matter which ought to be par* ticularly comforting to city dwellers^ albeit country dwellers may not be afifectcd in a like manner, and that is that statistics shew that the risk of iight« ning is five times greater in the country than in the city. The cause of this immunity for city dwellers is not far tn seek. It is doubtless due. to the pr«« dominance of metal roofs, the w'elU grounded water pipes in houses and probably as much as anything to lh« protective network of overhead wires ol all kinds. The popular belief that stroke of lightning is invariably fatal 1* also not borne out by facts. Indeed, on4 record specially devoted to this featunl shows that of 212 persons struck only 7^ were killed. Taking it all in all, them seems to be "no more groundless populaj fear than that of lightning. Indeed, l( one can go by statistics, the risk of meet^, ing death by a horse kick in New YorH is over 50 per cent greater aian that death by ifghtning. Yet with all th« weight of statistics against its deadlines* lightning will probably continue to sear« people as heretofore. Perchance, aftei all,* there may be a more direct causa than, the mere psychological one usually ascribed to it. and that is the fact tha( many people, of nervous temperament ar« affected' hours before the approach of a thunder storm and thus rendered par"tlctiisirly powerless to stand the strain which more or less affects even tho mo?t phlegmatic natures during a disturbance in the heavens.

Billiard Ball Statistic*.

The total yearly demand for ivory blN Hard balls, when trade gc-ncraily is good, is estimated to bo about 110,000 to 115,W! balls, of which America and France take half, the remainder being used by England. Germany and other countries. E»d times reduce tho number of balls to about 80.000 to 85.000 a year.

A

Trouble In the Household.

"We had a row at our house v^stfrriay.V "What was the matter?" "The cook broke my china cup, so she went down town and bought me another/ which was insulted: 'To One I Lav#.'