Armer, Tom

was called to Chattanooga Tennessee, Friday, where his mother, who suffered a stroke of paralysis, is critically ill. Only recently, Mr. Armer and his family attended a family reunion held in observance of the fiftieth wedding anniversary of his parents.

Armer, who does the blacksmithing at the Wilbur Mine, has heard someone singing "Tie Me to Your Apron Strings" and evidently Tom wants to keep the first one who asks to be tied to his apron strings, for he is using a piece of half-inch rope to hold his apron up.

When Tom Armer was caught in the ground at the Wilbur Mine minus a hard-boiled hat, he was told by Henry Geissing that he was violating a safety rule, and was in a good way to get his bean cracked.

Man's body may be forced to execute tiresome toil, to spend long hours in grease and dirt and oil, but not so with man's mind. It can soar away on the wings of a dream, enjoy balmy breezes in the South Seas or spend the night in moonlit Italy, while the body is sweltering in the heat of a blacksmith shop. This may have been the case with Tom Armer, Thursday, but, we'll say no more, just leave it all to your imagination. He was found in the blacksmith shop at the Wilbur Mine Thursday sharpening picks while on his head he wore one of those ding-dads the kids call "a fiesta hat."

Anyone having a spare cat could do a good turn by taking it to Tom Armer before the day is over. Tom's dog has a bad habit of eating the neighbors' cats.