The Pulaskian., 1915-03-12
MAxwELL's CURE FOR CATS.

MAXWELL'S CURE FOR CAT ;.
 Going into the city on the street car the other morning, two hill dwellers began relating their experiences with cats. One of them was a Hoo Hoo, and he was stocked with cat lore that made the hair rise, but his narrative was eclipsed by the following tragic statement of a feline holocaust that recently occurred oh North Walnut street.
 c. w. Maxwell lost forty young White Orpington chickens from at tacks of vagrant cats. One night he sat up to watch for the misereants, and counted eighteen hungry felines prowling in the vicinity of his chick en yard, among which were the pet Toms and Mariars of several of his neighbors.
 The next day an alarm was sent out that everybody in the Maxwell neigh borhood who loved their kitties had best keep them at home. Several cat. owners responded that they had no restrictions to place on anyone who would serve their country in so good cause as to suppress the cat nuis- ance, and they wished Maxwell sue cess in his undertaking. In fact, sev- eral friends from the block came out to confer and give their assistance
 On a moonlight night soon after wards Maxwell prepared a choice plate of fresh meat, and on this he sprinkled 25 cents worth of nice new strychnine. Setting this tempting feast near the chicken house door, he retired to the back steps and waited.
 Pretty soon Smiths old yellow cat appeared, spied the dish and bounced upon it with the greed of tiger.
 Next came Jones' big black Tom, and he took place at the feast. Then came Thompsons Tabby and Browns Angora. In few minutes the whole cat population of Elmhurst had been accounted for, and the din ner was over. Each respective cat licked it's chops, climbed the fence and scampered away.
 Maxwell went out and got the plate. It was as clean as new china, and not speck of the meat scraps or powder was to be found on the ground around. Aha, I have them now" thought Maxwell, and the next morning he called up his neighbors to tell them how easy it was all done; but one by one of his neighbors informed him that their cats were safe and we'll in fact, appeared to be quite fat and satisfied Not a dead cat could be found on the hill
 Maxwell had heard that cats had it; but he kept losing his chickens, and he thought he would make an other try. Getting small rife and some cartridges, he decided to watch for the intruders and pick them off as they came over the back fence.
 The first to challenge his marks manship was lean, lank, brindle cat from upper Woodlawn avenue. He let the old fellow get over into the yard, and with the whitewashed shed DCAl4O tO llllS LllC ldl SCI lllO itllClt he took careful aim and-firedi There was splatter of fur, feline vail and flash of daylight through the brindle streak that disappeared over the fence, but no dead cat In like manner MT. Maxwell sought the life of the seventeen other cats that followed, but without any better luck.
 Becoming desperate, he finally pro- cured shotgun, and, with shells ex- tra heavily loaded, moved to posi- tion so close that the cats, approach ing by their usual route, would alignt near the end of his gun barrel, which was big enough to cover almost their whole backs. Then as they came over, Maxwell shut his eyes and let go with effect. For a time the neigh bors thought the rock crusher had moved to this side of the river, but Maxwell says he found cure for cats, and since then he has lost no more ] chickens.