Who is this weeping man approaches, supported by two friends, that comfort him with: “All right, Tom. You done noble,” uttered in pacifying if not convincing tones? Heart-brokenly he cries: “I dull le ver' bes' I knowed, now di' n't I? Charley? Billy, I dub bes' I knowed how. An' nen he says to me--Oo-hoo-hoo-oooo-oo! He says to me: 'Come ou' that, ye cussed fool!' Oo-oooo-hoo-hoo-oo-oo! Smf! Lemme gi' amma ham hankshiff. Leg go my arm. Waw gi' amma hankshifp. Oo-oo-oo-hoo-hoo-oo-oo! Fmf! I ash you as may wurl--I ash you as may--man of world, is that--is that proper way address me? Me! Know who I am? I'm Tom Ball. 'S who I am. I kill lick em man ill Logan Coun'y. Ai' thasso? Hay? 'S aw ri. Mfi choose stay up there, aw thas sec--aw thas second floor and rescue fel-cizzen's propprop'ty from devouring em--from devouring emlement, thas my bizless. Ai' tham my bizless, Charley? Ai' tham my bizless, Billy? W'y, sure. Charley, you're goof feller. You too, Billy. You're goof feller, too. Say. Wur-wur if Miller's is open yet? 'Spose it is? Charley; I dub bes' I knowed how, di'n't I, now? Affor that Chief come up thas stairway and say me: 'Come ou' that, ye cussed fool!' Aw say! 'Come ou' that--'Called me fool, too! Oo-hoo-hoo-oo-oo-oo!” “Hello, Dan! Hurt yourself any? (That's Dan O'Brien. Fell off the roof.) Well, sir, I thought sure you'd broken your neck. You don't know your luck. And let me tell you one thing, my bold bucko: You'll do that just once too often. Now you mark.” The day before the Weekly Examiner goes to press, Mr. Swope hands the editor a composition entitled: “A Card of Thanks,” signed by John K. and Amelia M. Swope, and addressed to the firemen and all who showed by their many acts of kindness, and so forth and so on. “Kind of help to fill up the paper,” says Mr. Swope, covering his retreat. “Sure,” replies the editor. When Mr. Swope is good and gone, he says: “Dog my riggin's if I didn't forget all about writing up that fire. Been so busy here lately. Good thing he come in. Hay, Andy!” “Watch want?” from the composing-room. “Got room for about two sticks more?” “Yes, guess so. If it don't run over that.” A brief silence. Then: “Hay, Andy?” “What?” “Is it 'had have,' or 'had of?” “What's the connection?” “Why-ah. 'If the gallant fire-laddies, under the able direction of Chief Charley Lomax, had of had a sufficiency of water with which to cope with the devouring element--'etc.” “'Had have,' I guess. I don't know.” “Guess you're right. Run it that way anyhow.” CIRCUS DAY Only the other day, the man that in all this country knows better than anybody else how a circus should be advertised, said (with some sadness, I do believe) that it didn't pay any longer to put up showbills; the money was better invested in newspaper advertising.