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73 MARCH 1902 OLIVER bROMWELL' AND THE COLLAR BUTTON. Oliver Cromwell was once putting on a clean shirt and a new collar. He had fastened the back ahd one end in front, when out popped the Collar button. “ God Bless Me ” said Oliver. The button fell on the floor and bounced away to the Unknown. “ Let the Harbor Lights Be Burning” hum- med Oliver as he stooped down to look under the bureau. Not there ! The strain of bending over broke his suspenders at the back, so he paused, softly singing to himself “ I Need Thee Every Hour.” Did Oliver Emit any Bad Words ? Not He. Did Oliver cavort around with his wife’s parasol and sweep up the Dust of Ages from under the folding bed in a wild search for the Collar button ? Not So. Reverently he waited with bowed head. “ Speak Samuel, Where Art Thou ” breathed Oliver softly : for it was his custom thus to call by name each lowly object. But it was not yet time. So Oliver paused again. But hark ! from behind a Stately Chiffonier standing in the north-east corner there piped up a shrill little voice like a cricket at dusk. “ Here I am !” “ Ring the Bells of Heaven ” quoth the Sturdy Round- head as he moved the furniture away from the wall and * closed his hand over the recalcitrant Samuel. For, you see, Oliver Cromwell had equipped his Collar button with a tiny little Edison Phonograph Cylinder con- cealed in the rounded top ; and all it needed was Patience until the jar of falling should release this concealed mechan-