The Misfortune of Mr. Krats

On Sunday last Ira M. Krats, of the land office, received a severe fall. He was trying to get to the depot to meet the incoming train, and was crossing Yakima Avenue from the First National Bank. As he was about to step up onto the sidewalk, the distance deceived him and his foot-step fell short and he with it. Mr. Krats was surprised, and injured—in his feelings. He looked about to note the cause of his mishap, and his eyes falling on a poor, inoffensive Indian dog calmly meandering down the middle of the street, he hurled a rock and the severest kind of invectives at the astonished brute and then went on his way apparently satisfied. Friends who witnessed the tumble are having no small amount of fun over the event, for they say that the dog was fifty feet away when Mr. Krats fell, and that the fall was due entirely to hurry and defective vision.