“You can bet I’m going to,” Carroll assured him. “By the way, he spoke about you. Asked me whether I’d seen you lately. And he called you ‘good old Hawley.’” “Ye gods!” the Camera Chap exclaimed. “He must be planning my assassination at the very least.” After that telephone conversation Hawley sat for some time on the porch of his host’s bungalow, and his gaze was concentrated wistfully on the steep mountain road which led straight to the town of Oldham. “Six months in prison for a snapshot!” he mused. “What an adventure! That would, indeed, be a risk worth running! A fellow who could get away with a stunt of that sort would have done something really worth while. And Carroll said that they passed that ordinance especially for my benefit. It would almost be cowardly to refuse the challenge.” A messenger boy on a bicycle rode up to the house and interrupted his musings at this point. “Say, mister, is there anybody here named Hawley?” the youngster inquired. “There certainly is, son,” the Camera Chap replied. “What have you got? A telegram, eh? Hand it over.” As he perused the contents of the yellow envelope, he muttered an exclamation of mingled joy and astonishment. The telegram was from Paxton, managing editor of the New York _Sentinel_, and was worded as follows: “Will you run over to Oldham immediately on receipt of this and photograph city hall, exterior view? Rush print to office. Sorry interrupt vacation, but picture badly needed. PAXTON.” “Now, what in the name of all that’s wonderful can he want with a picture of Oldham’s city hall?” thought the Camera Chap. “It’s certainly a mighty queer assignment. However, it makes no difference, of course, what they want it for. The fact that they do want it is good enough for me. This telegram has arrived just at the psychological moment. I was hunting for an excuse to go to Oldham, and here’s a good one.” TO BE CONTINUED. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THIS FOR A FISH STORY? Last spring, while a party of tourists were fishing up North, a well-known lawyer lost his gold watch from the boat in which he was sitting. Last week he made another visit to the lakes, and during the first day’s sport caught an eight-pound trout. His astonishment can be imagined when he found his watch lodged in the throat of the trout. The watch was running and the time correct. It being a “stem-winder,” the supposition is that in masticating his food the fish wound up the watch daily. TREATMENT OF CHILDREN. An absent-minded doctor was called in to see a child two years old suffering from convulsions. After a careful diagnosis, he prescribed as follows: “Nervous excitement. Avoid all violent emotions; abstain from wines and spirits; avoid excess at table and other indulgences; travel a good deal; go frequently to the theater. Beware of reading a certain class of novels.” SMALLEST RACE OF PEOPLE.