Last Wednesday afternoon there was a trio of Norwegians who were heavily laden with old rye, their condition showing a personal fullness that was amusing as well as disgusting, to say nothing of their "jugs." demijohns and traveling satchels that were stowed away in their wagon. They had evidently painted the town of Lyle red, having no desire to com in contact with the Mitchells they veered to the east and took a circuitous route through the woods for the old Britts mill-site. But they had not proceeded more than half a mile south of the confines of East Mitchell ere they encountered a foe in the form of three stalwarts of the goods who were noted for their alcoholic dryness.

A moment's pause and an exchange of long wistful glances were an indication of an immediate and desparate struggle. They were evenly matched in numbers but the stalwarts had a decided advantage in being sober and fired with an innate zeal to confiscate the unlawful goods. The violaters of the law took in the situation at a glance and made a desperate effort to free themselves from the unwelcome visitors. They did not yield however until they had engaged in an exciting chase for more than a mile.

The terms of the treaty were rather severe, yet they were readily conceded. One gallon of alcohol, two gallons wine, and one box bottled beer was the penalty inflicted upon the law breakers. We trust in future that Lyle patrons will not attempt to stigmatize this vicinity with a similar escapade.