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Rh that a Zulu can hand us a tip or two on happy living.”

But all music is not of string form; so, in a big auditorium, our party found a full brass band of about fifty boys, with a man from Branton Hills’ Municipal Band as instructor. Now as Gadsby was, as you boys say, “not at all bad” on a big bass horn in his youthful days, this band instructor, thinking of it, was asking him to “sit it” and play. So, as Lady Gadsby, two girls, and two sons-in-law sat smiling and giggling in a front row, and as fifty boys could hardly play, from laughing, that big horn got such a blasting that it was practically a horn solo! And Nancy, doubling up from giggling, said:—

“D-d-daddy! If-f-f-f B-b-b-barnum’s circutcircus [sic] hits town, you must join its cl-cl-clown band!”

But I had to rush this happy party out of that building, as an awful thing was occurring but a block from it; which told its own story by a light, flashing through windows; clanging gongs, shrilling horns and running, shouting crowds; for an old, long-vacant factory building just across from City Hall, was blazing furiously. Rushing along Broadway was that “motor thing,” with Clancy and Dowd clinging wildly on a running