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We were talking this morning in one of our business houses about somnambulists and their peculiar antics. The case was mentioned of a person hitching up a team one night and getting up a load of wood while in that condition. The idea seemed at once to come to the mind of Nate Frakes that it afforded a solution to the way some people get their coal and wood as a rule. They get up in their sleep and go after it. The only peculiarity of the matter is that the habit appears to be regular and they are always able to find a coal house that is not locked or a wood pile where the wood is cut and split. It is one of the objectionable features of somenambulism.


Albert Gibbs, son of F.A. Gibbs, who has been in Colorado during the last two years for his health, was brought home last Friday, a corpse. He was buried on Sunday in the Dunkard cemetery, where his mother was laid to rest but little over a year ago. Bert was known by all to be an honest, upright energetic young man.


From “Around the Town” by Scott Snyder: “They were talking about the many freak maneuvers of a cyclone a day or two after the recent twister which caused so much damage in Dallas County. One man told of straws being driven through an inch board; another told of chickens which had been picked naked or their heads twisted off; a third related a story about a stone building being shaved off at the second floor without the occupants of the first floor being disturbed; and there were many others; but the medal went to a fellow who came from down in ‘Missoiury’ and who was present when a cyclone wrecked his father’s farmstead. All of their chickens were killed except one rooster and he had disappeared. They could hear him crowing several times a day but could not located him. Finally, the Missourian said, the rooster was located and ‘where do you think he was?’ Answering the query himself he said: ‘He’d been blown into a jug and couldn’t get out.’”


From “By George,” by George DeFord: “Every once in a while the matter of prayer in schools come to light again and last week I read a story that I thought some readers might get a kick out of. It seems that three little boys in the back of the room had their heads together whispering. ‘What’s going on back there?’ asked the teacher, ‘We’re telling dirty stories,’ came the reply. ‘Thank goodness,’ said the teacher. ‘I thought you were praying.’”

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