"Mr. Kidd"

At Harvard

In the Harvard Yard (campus), a yellow and white hound-dog, weight 35 pounds, watched some squirrels at play, stalked them, sprang, flattened a young squirrel under his paw. The pinioned creature twisted this way and that, emitting sharp, tiny screams of pain. Down from the trees ran the other squirrels. They surrounded the dog and curled their whiskered lips, making a snarling noise. Now it was the hound-dog's turn to cringe; it was his turn to squeal with agony as the squirrel under his paw twisted around, bit his forefoot--as the other squirrels sprang upon his flanks, biting, gouging, snarling, tearing. A boy rushed put with a stick and drove the squirrels away. The dog was taken to the Angell Animal Hospital, Brookline, Mass. (Such was the gist of a story printed last week by the Boston. Globe.)

"Mr. Kidd"

In 1908, an evangelist met a girl in a "resort."

"Kneel down and pray with me," he said, looking her fixedly in the eye.

"Who are you?" she demanded, startled.

"Mr. Kidd," replied the evangelist.

The girl burst into peals of laughter. "The old original Kidd himself, eh? Well, don't kid me, sport. . . ."

The evangelist--one David S. Kidd--pleaded with the woman to forsake sin. In reply she asked facetiously for liquor. He gave her water, read the Bible to her, persuaded her to repent. She returned to the home of her father--one W. C. Byrne, Toronto millionaire. Recently the girl, having inherited all her father's money, died in Jasper, Fla. To Mr. Kidd--now called the Rev. David S. Kidd-Byrne--she left $36,000,000. (Such is the substance of a story broadcast last week by the United Press.)