 A man becomes his brother's father. A jury renders an impossible verdict. A letter travels 50 miles per hour in 1755. And with those three impossible but provable statements, we welcome you to another session of paradoxes and odd facts to make you say, can you imagine that? Until we return in just one and a half minutes, this is Lindsay McCurry asking you to wait around, won't you? Here's the first can you imagine that item. A lot of people stir up a huge fuss about their family tree. They go back hundreds of years to discover that Gunther the Dane, who sailed from Greenland, was an ancestor. Or that Valter, the Lithuanian lark, is distantly related by the southern branch of the family. But a family in Ventura, California has to have a genealogist to unravel a mix-up in their present generation. Why? Well, it sounds like one of those puzzles in which Ed likes cake and he's pool champion, so what's the name of the conductor of the limited? Mr. T. M. McCants, 48, married Alberta Abbott, 27. Nothing wrong about that? Ah, no, but when T. M.'s brother, Luther, married Alberta's mother, Mrs. Amy Logan, he fixed up something quite puzzling. See if you can close your eyes and get the first base with it. Listen, T. M. McCants is the brother-in-law of his own mother-in-law. Therefore, his wife, Alberta, is her brother-in-law, Luther's step-daughter. Mr. Luther McCants automatically becomes his own brother's step-father-in-law, and the mother, by virtue of this round robin, now becomes the sister-in-law of her own daughter. So in four people, there is now a full quota of in-laws which ordinarily would require two or three families to supply. The brother can call the other brother father, and the daughter can call the mother her sister. Can you imagine that? There have been many, many unusual verdicts rendered by juries all over the civilized world at one time or another, but I think I've found one which may have escaped the notice of legal historians. It was told in a news story, appearing in the columns of a paper in 1879. It seems that a farmer named Vance, living near the town of Carleton, Georgia, said to a neighbor one day, Say, I've got to do something about that corn crib of mine. Why, what's the trouble, Vance? Falling to pieces? No, but for a couple of weeks back now, I've been missing corn every night from that there crib. Yeah? Well, why don't you set yourself out in your barn tonight with a gun and catch the critter with steel in it? No, I don't somehow reckon to lose that much sleep over it. But neighbor, you give me an idea. Yeah? What's your idea, Vance? Well, I reckon I'll keep it to myself for now, but you'll drop around a more and see if I catch the thief. That evening, after supper and chores, farmer Vance went out to his barn and set his trap to catch the corn-stealing thief. He placed a gun behind the corn crib, tied a string to the trigger, the other end of which was tied to the latch of the barn door. Then he calmly returned to his house, went to bed, and we may presume to sleep. Late that same night, farmer Vance was awakened. Well, I reckon is how I caught the critter. And then he turned over, went back to sleep, and waited till morning. Hey, Vance, did you catch the thief? I sure did. Just look over here. Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle. Lying prone across the threshold of the barn door of the Vance farm was the lifeless body of a huge, strapping negro. Undoubtedly, the thief who had been filtering the corn from Vance's corn crib. A trial was held to determine the legal cause of death, and after the jury had inspected the corn, the crib, the gun, the string, the door, and the dead negro, the verdict was returned. This here jury finds that the dead man met his death by involuntary suicide. Involuntary suicide, whatever that is. Can you imagine that? Well, you've all heard of Nick the Greek and John the barber, whose betting exploits in the gambling world have made history. Well, here's a story about a famous Englishman whose bets have given him a special niche in the Hall of Fame. He was the fourth Duke of Queensbury affectionately and sometimes sarcastically referred to as Old Q. At first, by a mixture of shrewdness and luck, he amassed a fortune of 300,000 pounds or about one and a half million dollars. This, by betting on the races and sometimes acting as his own jockey. But his first wager, which catapulted him into the limelight, was made when he came to London from his native Scotland as a young man. It was in a sporting club that the young Duke was talking with some newly found friends. I say it's impossible for anyone to go that fast with a horse. Oh, I don't know. Oh, my dear fellow, it's impossible for anyone to average that speed with a horse. Why, how you wager that a Shazen four couldn't cover the course at 19 miles per hour? Oh, 19 miles an hour. Have you a thousand guineas to put on the outcome? What? Did you say a thousand guineas? I said one thousand guineas. I'll wager one thousand guineas that my Shazen four will cover the course at an average speed of 19 miles per hour. Oh, done. Perhaps a foolish wager, which you lose, will teach you to be less sure of yourself. The wager was made. Now, the speed of 19 miles per hour in a Shazen four, that is, a carriage in four horses, was unheard of, but that didn't bother old Q. He had especially constructed carriage and chose his horses carefully and won the wager hands down while the sporting world looked on amazed at the young upstart who could upset the dope bucket with such a resounding ring. Then in the year 1755, he wagered, ah, but listen. My dear, dear old Q, you're absolutely fantastic. Some of your statements are ridiculous. You may have won a few bets by sound freak of chance. Would you? Would you care to place a wager? Place a wager? On what? Upon what we're talking about. I'll bet you any amount that you care to mention that I can cause a letter to be carried over a distance of 50 miles in one hour. 50 miles? In an hour? Why, you're mad. That's very nearly a mile per minute. No one could go that fast. Nevertheless, I shall wager any amount you care to put up that I shall have a letter carried 50 miles in one hour. This time you're caught, my fine fellow. I take that bet. We'll go to Mabankin now and draw up the terms. Remember that this bet was made in the year 1755, more than 50 years before railroads were even dreamed of and when the automobile was something absolutely beyond the range of imagination. So how was old Q to get a letter carried 50 miles in one hour? No one could run that fast. Not even relays of sprinters could keep up that grueling pace. It looked as though old Q was biting off too much. But the laughing sporting world didn't count on the Duke's ingenuity. For one day he approached the manager of a cricket club. My good man, you're the manager here. I am, sir. What can I do for you? I should like to engage 20 of the best bowlers in cricket that I could possibly find. Oh, thinking of starting a team, sir? Starting a... Well, something like that is something like that. Well, now, if you'll just come with me, I'll show you the lists and you can choose your man. What had cricket to do with conveying a letter 50 miles an hour? Well, old Q got a cricket ball and... And now, I want you to cut that ball open and enclose this letter at it. And you, 20 men, are to be stationed at intervals along the road. You're to toss this ball from man to man just as fast as you can. You'll be well paid for your trouble. Provided the ball with a letter and it travels the 50 miles in an hour. And did old Q win his bet? You know he did. In fact, so fast was the ball tossed from expert cricketeer to expert cricketeer that the rate of speed was actually exceeded and old Q again won a freak bet. Then came the time when the Duke's friends noticed that he was aging. Among themselves, they began to lay wagers upon his probable death day. Old Q heard about it and instead of being put out or annoyed, merely said... Gentlemen, it has come to my attention that you are laying wagers upon my probable death day. Now, really, gentlemen, I'm not in the least put out about it, but I at least should have thought that you would include me in the bets since you did not do so, I shall. 1,000 pounds that I outlive the most optimistic of the wagers. Oh, come, come, gentlemen. 2,000 pounds that I shall live longer than any one of you think. I'm 82 years old. Any takers? There were takers, and the Duke gleefully outlived the date set by the wager. In fact, not until he was 86 did he pay his last wager and that to no man who could collect. Can you imagine that? And well, yes, I guess it's about time to give you another chance to do a little melody sleuthing. Not long ago, a popular song came out written by the same writers as There's a Gold Mine in the Sky, Charles and Nick Kenny. The melodic pattern of the chorus is quite similar to an old hymn, which I'm sure you all remember, and in as much as the theme of the popular number is in a rather reverently religious mood, this similarity seems to us to be quite appropriate. Well, now I'm going to ask the male quartet to sing the first couple of measures of the old hymn. You listen and see whether or not you can fair it out the melody and from it, the title of the popular song. All right, boys? On a hill far away Would you like another try? All right, once more, boys. On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross And were you able to recall the popular song which those bars of the old rugged cross should bring to mind? Well, we won't hold you in suspense any longer. Here it is, and I'm sure you all remember it and love it, the Cathedral in the Pines. He smiled when his bride came down the aisle In that little old cathedral in the pond A baby filled an S He was taken to be blessed In that little old cathedral in the pine He grew up and joined the choir Where the organ played each day And he found his heart's desire In a girl who came to pray Once again the wedding bells will softly peal And while you and I Before the altar are hand in mine As they did in old angstime In that little old... And now, once more, friends, it's time to turn you over to your own announcer and until we meet again on the next session of Can You Imagine That? I'm Lindsay McCarrie saying goodbye now.