Of several young men who only last year stepped across the threshold of an eastern college, and went forth on the trackless ocean of life to battle with relentless fate and win renown or a glorious death in the arena, 11 are clerking in auction stores at $13 a month, one is running a fish boat, two are learning the house painting trade, one starved to death before he had been out of college a week, one is driving a team on a street contract, two are tramps and others are living with their widowed mothers, who are their only support.

Fact is, brethren, when life grapples its hook into a mans coat collar, it shakes all the arena and battle business out of him so quick that in six weeks, if he is alive he knows more in a minute bout the price of pork and flour than he can tell you about a Greek root in six months.

A flying visit to Stringtown on Wednesday gave us a birds-eye view of that charming little lumber mart.

The piney woods at the east of the town furnishes logs for nine sawmills, and the loggers, mill hands and teamsters must all be fed and clothed in exchange for labor.

This of itself gives an air of business life and bustle to the little town nestled among the hills not possessed by any other town in the territory.

When this is added its natural position as a trading point gives promise of a permanent location for a prosperous and thriving town.