Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1937-08-13
''Chirps'' ~
from the
Democrats Pen

Well, Sir, do any of you people
know a guy by the name OF Crawford
Hillman? He's the sport who taps
YOU on the shoulder and says: Il want
you, come go along with me-" And
then, if you show little modest hesi-
tancy to comply, he presents you with
a pair of nice looking CD bracelets.
Out of sheer gratitude at his liberal
ity, you agree to walk along.
Now, this very same man, while In
his car, stopped me on the street one
day this week and asked me to get IN,
that he had something funny to tell
me. Then after I had climbed In ne
told me he was going "to take me Tor
a ride" 1 didn't think that was very
funny, specially since he didn't smile
and I was on my way to make de-
post in the bank-said deposit trifle
over a 1O-dollar bill, but big for me.
I've read about these "rides", you
know; sometimes the driver doesn't
bring you back.
However, he proceeded to spin his
yarn; and, dear reader, you can believe
it or not. He says he left his place
of business about 1890 A. M, last
Sunday, being careful to lock up every
thing that had lock on it. Twenty
three hours afterward, he opened up
his store, and was attracted by the
sound of cats mewing. 1t was faint,
but distinguishable. He had cat that
happened to be bringing up a family
lust at this time, and she was con-
sidered able to take car of herself
and family, too. So not much notice
was taken of the morning song by
Tabby.
But the music continued and in a
very plaintive note, so search began.
Crawford sounded around and the trail
became very hot whenever he ap-
preached the small safe in which he
keeps his big money. He, finally, took
a chance, opened the safe door and
out jumped the "9-life" creature,
shook the daze from her brain, drank
a few laps of water, and then ran to
the aid and succor of her wailing kit
tens.
Twenty-three hours in a small safe
and still lives! Please add two ciphers
to the "9"; or else represent Craw-
ford's yarn by the two ciphers. That
story reminds one of the one by Edgar
Allen Poe wherein he tells of muir
derer concealing his victim by tearing
out stone wall, laying this body
therein, and ceiling the hole up again.
But with this difference, the body was
in no jumping out mood when the
crime was uncovered. But it wasn't
a cat-there's another difference.
You know, there's scientific prob
lem there. A cat must consume very
little oxygen, or it has a breathing
apparatus whereby it can extract more
of the element from given space
than can the human being; that is to
say, it has more nearly perfect COM
bustion, as we say in the gas motor.
It is inconceivable how the cat sur
vived for so long, unless some mean
son-of-a-gun is going to ask Craw-
ford to tell that story over again and
tell it slowly.
How-some-ever, I've got one to tell
you, and, of course, there was never
anything but the truth emanated from
my pen in this column. I was riding
along the road in my rattle-trap, when
I heard an unusual noise. You can
understand it must have been unusual
to be noticed among so many usual
ones. It sounded to me like squirrel
jumping around in circular cage, or
a big bird of some kind beating its
wings against wire enclosure.
I was finally drawn to the hood.
Continued on Page 10)
CTEnN CTAnFnCCICTA