In the same place, by a most unfortunate coincidence, resides also a prize-fighter named Joseph Striker, and rumors were afloat a few weeks ago that the latter Joseph was about to engage in a contest with a Jersey pugilist for the championship.

Our sheriff considered it his duty to warn Joseph against the proposed infraction of the laws, and so he determined to call upon the professor of the art of self-defence.

Unhappily, in inquiring the way to the pugilist's house, somebody misunderstood the sheriff, and sent him to the residence of the Rev.Joseph Striker, of whom he had never heard.

When Mr.Striker entered the room in answer to the summons, the sheriff said to him familiarly, "Hello, Joe! How are you ?" Mr.Striker was amazed at this address, but he politely said, "Good-morning." "Joe," said the sheriff, throwing his leg lazily over the arm of the chair, "I came round here to see you about that mill with Harry Dingus that they're all talking about.

I want you to understand that it can't come off anywheres around here.