asters: their zebra attacked the ostrich, pulling the tail feathers from this big bird, and leaving a gaping wound on its posterior; and their lone monkey passed away. This simian was buried, without ceremony, north of our barn. It became the subject of interesting tall tales related by my father to the wide-eyed town youngsters who often tagged behind him during farm chores. It seems the monkey's ghost would rise from his grave on moonlight nights and delighted in frightening Cornell livestock--driving them over, under, and through the fences.

The other circus, Seal Bros., had the misfortune to pitch their big top near the ball park north of town on the day of the most damaging hail storm within my memory. The owners, already tottering on the brink of ruin, had their tent ripped to shreds and, I believe, were bankrupt by this disaster.

Another popular village site for itinerant groups of entertainers was the Andrew larthelme pasture adjacent to the Lutheran Church. Hazel M. Cass played at this location with annual appearances for many years. The portion of Mary street between Main and Brooks was often utilized by tent theaters.

The Figge Auto Company has installed a wireless telephone (radio receiver) with a range of several thousand miles. Broadcasts have been received from Memphis, Madison and Cedar Rapids.

EARLY RADIO

This "wireless" at the Figge garage created a sensation in the community. While we, children, took new inventions as a matter of course, the elder citizens looked upon it as miraculous. The reception of spoken words from thousands of miles away, practically instantaneous with their utterance, was almost beyond the comprehension of many pioneers. Never in their wildest dreams had they anticipated music traveling through the air, from east, or west coasts, to their homes in Ossian.

My first introduction to the land of radio was at the H. P. Nicholson residence. Mis receiver was equipped with a set of headphones, limiting its audience. All the visiting Cornell children, their eyes wide with anticipation, were permitted a turn at listening to this new wonder.

The first radio in the Cornell household, acquired soon after this fascinating experience, was a superheterodyne. This set had three tuning dials—all had to be properly aligned to receive the frequency of a desired braodcast. This made the criginal tuning of any station a bit of a lottery. Finding a new station became an exciting experience. A log listing all three settings along with the station's call letters was kept for future reference. Imagine our thrill when solving the proper combination for such early stations as KDCA Pittsburg, WLW Cincinati, and even KFI, all the way from Los Angeles.

As I recall, superheterodyne had several power sources: "A", "B", and "C" 'catteries, along with a wet cell storage battery that required frequent recharging. In my naivete, I thought that all four of these sources of power must furnish a different kind of electricity—a combination necessary for successful operation.

Our radio featured a goose-neck speaker that enabled the entire family to listen at the same time. This was a decided improvement, solving the audience limitation imposed by the earphones of earlier models.

My recollection is that the Figge Auto Go. sold the Atwater Kent receiver. Uncle Ward Allen was an early owner of this brand. It bragged a less complicated cuning system with only two dials to adjust.

A rhubarb arose between the paper and sheriff Ole Ellingson when the officer escorted Frank Kneeskern to the polls at Castalia. Editor Schmitz pointed out that convicted felons lose their franchise under Iowa law. Mr. Ellingson defended his action with an article in the Decorah newspapers. County Attorney Nelson revealed chat his office, after consultation with the state's attorney general, had advised che sheriff of Kneeskern's loss of voting rights. A delegation of Decorah women demanded that Ellingson be impeached. No action was recorded.

The state board of health notified the town's authorities that unsanitary cond