To look at me no one would suppose it; but it is, nevertheless, a fact that I am a member of a fire company.  I am somewhat middle-aged, somewhat stout, and, at certain times of the year, somewhat stiff in the joints; and my general dress and demeanor, that of a sober business man, would not at all suggest the active and impetuous fireman of the period.  I do not belong to any paid department, but to a volunteer Hook and Ladder Company, composed of the active-bodied or active-minded male citizens of the country town where I live.  I am included in the active-minded portion of the company; and in an organization like ours, which is not only intended to assist in putting out the fires of burning buildings, but to light the torch of the mind, this sort of member is very valuable.  In the building which we occupy, our truck, with its hooks and ladders, stands upon the lower floor, while the large room above is used as a club and reading-room.  At the beginning of the first winter of our occupancy of the building, we found that this room, which had been very pleasant in summer, was extremely uncomfortable in winter.  The long apartment had been originally intended for purposes of storage; and although we had ornamented it and fitted it up very neatly, a good deal of carpentry and some mason’s work was necessary before it could be made tight and draught-proof for cold weather.  But lately we had spent money very freely, and our treasury was absolutely empty.  I was chairman of the committee which had charge of everything pertaining to our rooms, and I felt the responsibilities of my position.  The necessary work should be begun immediately, but how could the money be raised to pay for it?  Subscriptions for this and that had been made until the members were tired of that sort of thing; and the ill success of the last one showed that it would not do to try it again.

I revolved in my mind a great many plans for raising the sum required, and one morning, as I was going to my place of business in the city, I was seized with a happy idea.  At the moment of seizure I was standing in front of a large show-window, in which were a number of oil paintings, all of them very fresh and bright.  “How would it do,” thought I to myself, “to buy a picture at a moderate price and put it up at a raffle?  People who are not willing to give money outright will often enter into a scheme of this kind.  I will go in and make inquiries.”

When I entered I found myself in a large showroom, the walls of which were covered with paintings.  A person advanced to meet me who, as it soon became evident, was the proprietor of the place.  He was a large man, dressed in black, with an open shirt-front and an expansive countenance.  His eyes and hair were black, and his ears stood out from his head in a manner which, according to a recent writer, indicates the money-getting faculty; and he plainly belonged to that class of persons who in the Middle Ages did not, as is the present custom, pay money for having