"What Does Hurd Take Me Fur, a Damned Jeweler?"

Kaiser, the town jeweler, a German of delicate physique and features, a skilled workman, was held in special contempt by the big blacksmith who never passed the jeweler's shop that he did not hurl, under his breath, contemptuous words at the delicate little jeweler sitting in his window with a magnifying glass on his eye, plying his trade.

When Alfred handed the blacksmith the broken bits of the spring he took them in the hollow of his big palm and said: "What's these?"

Alfred explained that the press was broken and it would be impossible to print the paper until the spring was repaired and Mr. Hurd said he knew that he, Mr. Chalfant, could fix it.

Davy turned the bits of broken steel over in his palm with the forefinger of his other hand as he musingly said: "So Hurd said I could fix this thing, did he?" And here he handed Alfred the broken bits. "Well, you take it back to Hurd an' ax him what he takes me fur, a damned jeweler?"

Someone suggested that Gus Lyons, the machinist and piano tuner, could repair the spring, which he did after several hours work.

Harrison celebrated longer, with the result that the remainder of the edition was not worked off until after the regular edition of the following week. The edition of the week before went out with the regular edition with an added note at the top of the page explaining the terrible accident to the press which caused the delay.

It was one of the onerous duties of the business department to deliver the paper in three towns, Brownsville, Bridgeport and West Brownsville. To the houses on the hill above Workman's Tavern he generally sent the paper by a boy; the subscribers along Water Street, down toward the coal tipple, were served by somebody Alfred met going that way.