The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, October 10, 1890, Image 7

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    : THE L.AST . GOOD-BY.
* ° know lt ! s * " ° J"1 good-by ?
m
The ekicBwill not bo darkened in that hour.
Wo midden blight will fall on leaf or flower ,
No single bird-will hush its cureless cry !
And you will hold my hands , and smile or
sigh
.Tost as before. Perchance the sadden tears
la your dear eyetj will answer to my fears ;
But th re will come no voice of prophecy
Ao voice to whisper : "Now , and not again.
Space /or loot words , last kisses and last
prayer ,
For nil the wild , nnmitigated pain
Ol those who. parting , clasp hands with
despair , " .
"Who known ? " we say , but doubt and fear
remain ;
Would any chose to part thus unaware ?
Louibe C. Moulton.
I A PEETTY GIBL'S WHIM.
T WAS a beautiful
(
garden a garden in
which one might al
most lose one's self
among the heavy
sweetness of the blos
soming syringa bushes -
es nnd the avenues of-
:
pink wygclia that
wound irregularly here and there.
It was a July day. A girl lay idly
in a wide luxurious hammock , her
bright head on the soft tinted cush
ions , her deep brown eyes upraised
to the whispering leaves qbove.
She looked the ideal of happy con
tent as she lay there in pretty lazi
ness , one slim hand drooping over
the hammock's edge. A great New
foundland dog lay on the grass be
side her as she swayed gently to and
fro , toying affectionately with the
dog's great , noble head.
Sometimes he would open his al
Mi most human eyes and look up ather
silently , with a happy content that
matched her own.
It was very pleasant there. The
book she had been reading had drop
ped upon the grass and lay with
crumpled leaves. A rosebud marked
the place.
Wilma Pierce , whose summers were
spent at her grandmother's quaint
old country home , had come here a
few days-since'tired out in bodyxand
brain a3 only a young , hard working
teacher can be.
Already the soothing quiet of the
lovely place had done her good , and
the brightness of complexion and
thelitheness of form , which had been
impaired by thelastyear'shard work ,
were returning to her.
A silvery haired , sweet faced old
lady came out of the the wide hall
door with a light wrap in her hand.
She approached the hammock with
anxious solicitude in her kind , old
face.
"Child , it is cool for thee here , thee
must be more prudenfrwith thyself. "
" She wrapped the soft , gray shawl
aboutthegirl'sshoulders with loving ,
motherly hands. Wilma looked up
and smiled protestingly.
"It isn'tchilly , grandmamma , dear
but I submit. "
She took the wrinkled old hand
in hers and held it gently against
her warm cheek.
The old Quakeress bent her state
ly form and left a soft , swift kiss up
on the girl's forehead.
"I must go in , dear * reart : tiiee
had best fall asleep for a little if thee
can.
can.The
The soft , gray gown swept away
across the grass , and the wearer
stopped beside the door to pull : i
' sweet , white rose that stretched
temptingly toward her.
She went in , and the girl and her
dumb companion were again alone ,
By and by she fell asleep. The
roses at her bare , white throat rose
and fell with a gentle regularity as
her breath came and went. It was
a pretty picture. Eonald Mitchell ,
coming across the garden , thought
so as he caughtsight of it , and pausj
gd involuntarily.
The dog raised his great ; shaggj'
head and looked a silent welcome
from his brown eyes. They were old
friends Ronald the young farmer ,
and Rebecca Northfield's dog Don.
The young man stood breathless a
moment looking at-the sleeper , then
with a softer light in . his blue- eyes
and a warmer tinge on his smooth
shaven cheek he went on toward the
house. He entered with the familiar
ity of a well known and welcome
friend , and sat down easily in a big ,
antiquated rocking chair.
Rebecca Northfield came into the
room , her old face alight with wel
come.
She came and luid her small hand
on li'sshoulder. "Ronald , " she said ,
"my grandchild , Wilma Pierce , is
come. Perhapsit is not. news to thee ?
She is a good child , Wilma is , but I
fear she loves the vworld too well.
There is little of the Quaker 'about
her ; Ronald. "
He smiled. "I saw her when I
came through the garden just now.
She is unlike you in her dress , but
her face has n likeness to yours. "
They sat together in the quiet
room und talked a little while. All
at once a shadow fell across the
bare , white floor , and they both look
ed up. Wilma stood in the wide
doorway , her face a little flushed
with sleep , her eyes dewy like a
child's after a refreshing slumber.
She held a yellow rose in her hand.
Grandmamma , " she said , all un
conscious of a stranger's presence ,
as sheJpoked. half < sleepily Jatthe
flower 'grandmamma , what a love
ly rose ! Just see how"
"Wilmn , " the calm , sweet voice in
terrupted her , "come here. This is
RpnaldM tcheH-4he son of my old
friend and schoolmate , Eunice Sand. "
Wilma advanced a little nnd held
out her hand frankly , but when who
met the intense gaze of the clear blue
eyes above her a shy look came into
her own nnd she withdrew her hand.
Ronald , watching her wondered jf
her grandmother's remark about her
had implied that she was a bit of a
coquette.
She leaned over the old lady's high
backed chair and fastened the rich
rose in the" sHverywhite waves of
her beautiful hair. And then she
went away , with a murmured word
of excuse , leaving behind her a scent
of roses and a remembrance of a fair ,
fresh young face rising flowerlike
above her pale blue gown.
That was their first meeting. All
summer the young farmer carne and
went at his own will and helped to
make the old place pleasant.
They sang together in the garden.
Thpre was no musical instrument in
the primative Quaker household , hut
Wilma had brought her guitar with
her. They read together in the old
summer house through long , lovely
afternoons , while grandmamma , sat
near with her homely knitting work.
They walked together in the great
old fashioned garden and along the
murmuring creeks , nnd sat idly on
the rustic bridge , watching the
rhythmic flow ot the waters and the
minnows darting in the cool , dark
depths below. It was an idyllic
summer. Both were happy. One
knew why it was ; the other only half
guessed it.
Ronald Mitchell at 30 years had
for the first time felt his inmost
heart stirred and thrilled by a wom
an's presence. He loved her with
all the unwasted strength of his per
fect manhood , with all the tender
ness of a true man's first love.
One evening he told her. They
were sitting together on a mossy log
beside the creek.
Wilma had thrown off her wide
garden hat , and the late rose in her
dark hair gleamed whitely like a soft
star in the dusk.
What caprice seized the girl ?
She listened to his eager words
with averted face turned toward the
dying sunset light.
"When he had finished she did not
answer.
"He takes too much for granted , "
she thought ; "he is to masterful ; he
asks as though my heart was some
light thing to which he had a right.
Iill teach him it is not. "
She rose and turned to go. He
caught her hands and detained her.
"Wilma , are you not going to say
a word ? Are you then the coquette
I always thought you that first
day ? "
His words stung her. She tried to
free herself , and the rose fell from her
hair. He picked it up.
"Ifyou won't say anything , Wil
ma , give me this rose. Let it be a
symbol of hope to me. "
She snatched it from his hand.
"When I am ready to unsweryou , "
she said , I will send it to you , " and
then she slipped away and hurried
toward the house. A spice of ro
mance had always been part of her
nature. Now as she flitted away she
touched the senseless flower with lips
that trembled.
"I do love him I do love him , " she
whispered as she sped along the f
shadowy path through the garden- j
But the girl's willful heart was
slow to yield. A week passed.
Ronald Mitchell came not once to
the farmhouse. Rebecca Northfielcl
wondered at his absence , and looked
searchingly at the quiet faced girl.
One evening she came into the
quaint old room , with its sloping
roof and lattice window , where Wil
ma sat reading.
"I thought I'd tell thee , Wilma.
that Ronald is going away to-mor
i row. He is tired , he said when I met
j him to-day , and needs a change. He
| does look worn , I wonder why he
keeps away from us. "
' She looked keenly through her gold
' rimmed glasses at the girl.
"I don't know grandmamma , I'm
sure. He does act strangely of late.
j Will he stay away long do vou
think ? "
"A month , he said , " she answered.
The girl drew a quick breath. "A
month , " she thought. "In a month
I shall be back at school.
Her heart beat quickly. After < i
while she took a little box from her
bnreau , and went down stairs and
out into the garden.
She called to Donand wanderpd
down to the mossy log beside the
creek. She had been here every day
since that time a week ago.
She sat down on the log , nnd Don
sat down beside her , looking gravely
at the running stream.
She drew a little folded note from
the box in her hand and opened it.
"Come to me , " it oaid , and then in
delicate tracery her name , "Wilma. "
That was all.
The girl's eyes shone half mischiev
ously as she fastened the tiny box to
Don's silver collar with a bit of.rib-
bon , and a bright color glowed in
her cheeks.
Then she folded her small hands
together and looked seriously into
the dog's great , noble eyes.
"Good old Don , " she said , "take
it to Ronnld to Ronald do you
understand ? "
He looked up intelligently into her
face and trotted off sedately.
Ronald Mitchell was in his room
alone. One by one such articles as
were necessary were being packed in
to his traveling bag.
A sudden patter on the stairs ar
rested his attention , and the next
moment tv familiar .blackheadwas
thrust through the half opened door- '
way.
"Why , Don , old felow ! Como to
? What's this "
sny good-by ?
, He unfastened the little box and
opened it. When he' had unfolded
the slip of paper and found the
withered white rose he sprang to his
feet. Then to Don's amazement , he
bounded down the stairs and out in
to the summer twilight , the grave
dog following at his heels.
He found her on a mossy log be
side the creek , looking expectantly
toward him with her shy , sweet glow
of love in her dark eyes and on her
face.
face.Only Donv-wasithe witness of that
meeting , but when a little later the
happy lovers wandered up the sweet
ly scented garden , cool and shadowy
in the gloaming , and grandmamma
en mo to meet them with a glad sur
prise and a light of calm content
ment in her serene face , all thoughts
of the projected visit were banished ,
and the half packed traveling bag
lay forgotten on the floor at home.
Harriet Francene Crobker in New
York Ledger.
CounttLeo Tolstoi.
Max O'Rell. in Washington Star.
Tolstbi'islate in'making his discor
erythatloveit the curse of the world
and marriage is wrong and unchris
tian. This husband ofagoodwife
and father of half a score of children
reminds me a little of Solomon , who ,
after monopolizing a fabulous num
ber of the" fair sex during the best
years of his life , was afterward un. ,
gracious enough to write slightingly
of the bulk of them. The peculiar
views which the count has advanced
in his last novel , "The Kreutzer Son
ata , " have called forth such a storm
of dissent from readers he bo's hud to-
further explain them. This explana
tion , which appeared in a syndicate
of newspapers , is not cheering. Count
Tolstoi is a wonderful genius , but he is
certainly depressing. Some one long
ago recommended him as capital
reading for any one suffering from
a plethora of high spirits. His latest
utterance have distinctly added to
his reputation in this line. What ,
lakeawoy out of life the little poetry
that it possesses ! We have all felt
first or last that it is a pity" that
there should be but one name for
the highest devotion of an Adam
Bede and the sensual passion of Tito
Melema ; but it is dismal to hear
both lumped together and to be told
that love and all the states that ac
company and follow it , no matter
what the poets may say , never do
and never "can facilitate the attain
ment of an aim worthy of men , but
always make it more difficult.
The Advantage of the Moral
Effect.
"I'd like you to come over to that
house with me , " said a canvasser tea
a policeman on Napoleon street a day
or two ago.
"What for ? "
"The woman bought a clock of
me on the installment plan. She
still owes $2 , and will neither pay
nor give up the clock. "
"But why don't you go to the
court ? "
"I'll have to. perhaps , but Ithought
I'd make-one more attempt. I want
you to stand in front of the house
for the moral effect it will have on
her. "
"The officer went with him and as
sumed a sort of heroic pose at the
gate , while the canvasser went to the
side door. It was promptly opened
at his knock , and still more prompt
ly a pail of water deluged him from
head to foot and run him out of the
yard.
"Well , the moral effect of my pres
ence didn't seem to count , " remarked
the officer.
* 'Yes it did ! " gasped the other as
heshookhimsell. "Shehadahoe han
dle , two dogs and her two big boys
in there , and if you hadn't been hero
wherc'd I be about this time ? " Chicago
cage Herald.
A Kite Story.
Some fishermen engaged in Belfast
Lough recently picked up a very
large seagull , which was SOPH approaching
preaching the boat with wings out
spread floating on the water , but.
quite dead. The men were puzzled
to account for the progress it made
through the water , as it went faster
than the boat ; but as it came near
it was found that , wound securely
round the body and under the wings ,
was a string of cordage , which , on
closer examination , they discovered
was attached to a large paper kite
then flying above them at a consid
erable height. The kite furnished
propelling power. The bird had evi
dently , while flying at Belfast , got en
tangled in the string of a boy's kite ,
had been unable to extricate itself ,
and , taking to the sea , had been
drowned in its efforts to obtain free
dom.
i
Rampant White Caps.
The White'Caps of New Mexico con
tinues so audacious that Governor
Prince has issued a proclamation
culling upon them to disband. He
declares that if the } ' do so he will or
der out the territorial militia , nnd if
necessary call upon the United States
troops. This band of regulators
style themselves knights of labor ,
and have organized lodges through
out the San Miguel country , until
they now have a membership of
1,500. They have without any legal
cause destroyed hundreds of miles of
fences , turned herds of cattle loose ,
burned thousands of tons of hay and
destroyed other property' while several -
; eral men-who - haveopposed them
have been seriously wounded by
some unseen assassin or have rays-
teriousljrdisnppeared. Chicago Her
ald.
IN CLAD WEATHER.
J do not know what skfw there were ,
Nor il the wind wax high or leI \ \ ;
I think I hcnrd the branches stir
A little when we turned to go :
l think I BOW the grouses sway
, As if they tried to kiss your feet
And j'et , it seemes like yesterday ,
That day together , sweet !
Think it must have boon in May ;
1 tiink ! the sunlight must have shon ;
I know a. went ol springtime lay
Across the fieldsmve were alone.
We went together , you anil I :
How could I look beyond your eyes ?
If you were only standing by
1 did not miss the skies !
I could not tell if evening glowed ,
Or noonday heat lay whit * und Htfll
Beyond the shadows of the ronU :
1 only watched your fine , until
1 knew it was the gladdest dny.
The sweetest dny that summer knew
The time when wo two stele away
And I saw only you !
Charles B. Going.
AT THE MASOUERADE.
T WAS at the
in asquerade
ball. He had
come Ingomar ,
sno ns Parthen-
in. He had
graduated
from Harvard
only the June
previous , and
as he was accus
tomed tospend
his vacation with his family in Eu
rope or on the seaboard , ho iad
scarcely been home for four years.
This was the first event of his home
coming , so not only was he a com
parative stranger , but the few recog
nizable faces wore masked from view
The accident of their costumes had
assured him his first dance with Pur-
thenia , and -fortune had given him
the rest.
JbLe did not know her ana scarcely
cared to. She danced well and seem
ed satisfied to give him as many
numbers as he chose. She talked
pleasantly and not too much.He
was pleased with the simplicity of
her manner.
As they danced together it was as
if they were moving in a dream. In
the gay eddies of bright costumes , in
the strange jumbling of the garments
of all ages $ ind climes , they too seemed
fated to cling together , and thus to
be alone. In the mystery of her
presence he forgot himself and his isolation
elation , content with the thought
that for the moment there was har
mony between them. Often utter
strangers are attached by subtle ties
of sympathy , and in the first hour
of intercourse are induced to touch
on heart secrets that years of friend
ship could not elicit ,
Once she .seemed to question who
he was.
"You have been to college to Har-
Vtird ? " she said , as they were dancing
a quadrille.
He looked at her inquiringly. For
a moment he fancied he recognized
her voice.
"No , " he answered , as he took her
hand in the grand right-and-left.
Then , regretting even a masquerade
falsehood , or perhaps , with his vanity
aroused to know why she had thought
him a college man , he waited until
they were together again and asked
the reason for the question.
"Nothing , " she replied sojtly. "Only
I once had a friend at Harvard , a
very dear friend. "
"That is such a distinctive misfor
tune , " he remarked , with a touch of
smiling irony.
She spemed sadder and more
thoughtful and did not reply. His
curiosity was aroused ; possibly ho
was touched with the dreamy regret
of her voice.
"I once lived in Cambridge , " he
said tentatively , "and knew man } '
college men. "
She shook her head and was silent.
"I knew Ethelbert Perry and Earle
Marvin. "
She was startled.
"Yes , " she replied , after amo
ment's hesitation. "Mr. Perry is en
gaged to a Miss Craig and Mr. Marvin
is now in Europe. "
He bit his lips in perplexity. Yet
why need he seek to discover who
she was ?
However she seemed dissatisfied.
"You know Mr. Marvin ? " she asked.
He laughed consciously. "Yes , I
have hear J of him. He was a wild ,
harum-scarum fellow , well-known in
his class , but a great prig. "
"He had many friends ? " she asked
wistfully.
"At first sight people liked him. "
Then he demanded abruptly , "Do
you know him ? "
"No , " he answered after a slight
hesitation. Then she added. I have
heard he was very popular. "
"Pshaw no , " he replied with a nerv
ous laugh. "Oh , well , yes , at first
sight , as I said , but he got many rp-
buffs. Did you ever hear the story
his conquest with Miss Boardwain ?
She was an opera singer who was so
facinated with the way he played
foot-ball that she paid him much at
tention. He went to her reception
in the green room the night of the
victory , proud of the honor. When
he got there , however , O'Leery , pitch
er of the Boston nine , was ahead of
him and she turned himover to one
of'her chorus girls to be entertained.
He never heard the last .of it from
the fellows , and in future confined
himself to Cambridge society. That
is the way it always was. He was a
gowl deal of a flunkey/ '
Hecnuglnjhis breath as if to as
sure himself that he had not said to
much. They were standing on the
outskirts of the dance und he made
haste to take her hand and break in
to the waltz. He was sorry that ho
had mentioned the subject at all ,
and did his best to efface the im
pression.
She danced very well. As often
happens with girls of her restrained
disposition she became strangely im
pulsive with the excitement of mo
tion. When they censed and went
together into the conservatory she
was beaming with gladness.
"How pleasant , " she exclaimed.
"Oh , it makes me feel as if I were a
girl again nnd thought of nothing
but friendship and flowers ! "
He was amused at her assumption
of maturity.
"Really , " he said .with a sly irony.
"You bear your age wonderfully ;
you are remarkably well preserved. "
She laughed at the odd banter ot
hia tone. "Do you really think mo
so young " ? " She asked a little piqued.
"Ah"he said , with a languishing
look , "You are as young ns the un
folding lily , as young as the rosebud
at dawn. "
"That is true , " she said demurely ,
"My mother has often told me that
I was born young. "
Very soon she relapsed into her
mood of silence. After all he liked her
better thus. As she clung to his arm
she brought him dreams of his boy
hood , when he had cared for one as
lovely ns she , perhaps , but now so
long forgotten. They walked out in
to the hall and ascended the central
stairway where they could overlook
the dancers beneath. He leaned his
head against the balustrade. She
sat clasping her knee and gazing at.
him abstractedly. 'She was under
the strangely imaginative influence
of the masquerade. Perhaps it was
just this very dream influence that
pleased him so , for is not all friend
ship , nil passion , a dream ? Certain
it was that as they sat together ,
strangers though they were , there
was a. perfect understanding between
them , so perfect indeed , that for a
long time neither sppke or wished to
speak.
He had been watching the gay
movements of the quadrille. The
motley dancers in the parlors beneath
wove in and out in a turmoil of move
ment und color. He felt peculiarly
isolated t among so much mirth and
gayety 'A stranger in a strange land
is not half so lonely as a stranger in
the home of his people.
At last , ns if recalling his fancies ,
he turned and said , fixing his gaze
on her mask , " 1 am so glad that I
came as Ingomar. "
She was listening but did not mind
his words. Perhaps it was the rich
strength of his voice that caught her
ear.
"Because , you see , my costume
privileges me to devote myself to
Pnrthenia. "
She bowed her head for pleasure.
He fancied he could see a heightening
of color even beyond her velvet
masque. However , she remained
silent , and he went on :
"And yet there is a subtile feeling
of sorrow in the thought that it is
Ingomar and not myself that you
have favored/ ' *
Her gaze still seemed to pass
through him and beyond. She had
the air of speaking from the shadow
of a dream.
"No " she said "I have
, quietly , en
joyed our dances very much. You
are like an old friend of mine. " After
a. while she asked , "Do you ever
fancy yourself different , do you ever
leei
by ? I "have felt all the evening as if
I were living my girlhood again. "
"Yes , sometimes. " he said , "as I
used to feel when I was happiest and
most light-hearted. "
She seemed pleased at this and repeated -
peated , "I have enjoyed our dances
very much. "
! "And I may have the waltz after
the unmasking ? " he said , smiling at
j the naivete of her remark. "Because
i
you see as yet I have known only
{ j ParUienia. And I , too , have enjoyed
our dances. "
She shook her head softly. "No , I
shall go home before the unmasking. "
She arose and they descended to
the hall. His heart was filled with
delight at her presence. Already he
had conceived a friendship for her.
She was so simple and so graceful ,
that it seemed as if he had always
known her. The thought of her go
ing filled him with tender f egret. .
The quadrille had ended. It was
but a moment before the unmasking.
"Come , " he said , "You say you
have really preferred myself to In
gomar ; can't you give me just this
one last dance ? The rest you know
Avere scarcely my own. "
"No , " she said , "the unmasking
would spoil it all. Let us part un
acquainted. "
"Now what shall I believe ? " he
burstoutwith pretended pique. "It-
is I , not Ingomar ; and yet the "dn-
masking would spoil it all. " The
waltz-music began. The dancers
threw aside their masques. There
was a burst of murmurs and laugh
ter , the regret of disappointment and
the surprise of recognition. In the
confusion she drew nearer to him. He
laughed for joy , seized her hand and
broke into the dance.
"No , no ! " she cried , tossing her
head and struggling from his arm.
"Oh , you must not ! Do let me go ! "
He laughed again. She was en
trancing in her despair. However ,
he was forced reluctantly to loose
his hold.
There was a quiver in her voic ; . "I
am frank , ' * ' she said , "I must go. It
is neither you nor Ingomnr. Your
presence has been the spell of a long-
lost friendship. It can last but an
hour. I would not dispel it You
cannot understand. Oh , leave m
my dream ! "
She was ravishing in heromotion.
"Witho'itthis one favor , " ho pleaded ,
"your whole presence is u dream to
me. "
"No , " she said , turning her face
from him. "I must go. "
An unmasked man in motley came
up. It was Ethelbert Perry.
' . 'Masks off , " he shoutcdr , and seiz
ing one in each hand tore them from
their faces.
"Hello , Marvin ! " he exclaimed in
surprise. "When did you como
home ? " Then turning he said ,
"Why , May ! why didn't you tell
"
me-
meA
A moment Miss Craig gazed on
Marvin's discovered features , then
her face blanched and she leaned
against the wall like ono who sees a
ghost.
"May , Miss Craig ! Oh , I thought
it must be you ! " Marvin burst out
in delight. "Now I demand the
waltz , it-must be mine. "
But their masks were off and the
witchery was gone.
Pcrr } ' stood aghast , still holding the
masks in his hands. He looked at
Marvin in mute surprise and at Miss
Craig in mute reproach. Marvin was
dazed with the realization of what
had passed. She was choking with
emotion and her eyes were filled with
tears.
"Good night , sir , " she said at last.
Marvin picked herhnnkerchiel from
tils floor , and stood motionless
watching them ascend the stairs.
The next morning he received si
note. It read as follows :
"DKAK EAHLE It Aoms that we mustnaro
had fiomn subtle intimation of each other'n
presence last night that brought back tlio
thoughts of those old Sum ner Jimea. The
generosity of our childish { rienilnlilp bus al
ways been one of my pleaBnntest memories * .
Ethelbpi t. and I have often regretted that
your life IUJK grown so far npart from ours.
He dines with UB to-morrow. AVill you not
come also , and let us talk over , the pleasan'
old days together ? Sincerely ,
MAY. "
"I thought I had forgotten her
long ago , " mused Marvin , as he
wrote his regrets to the invitation.
"No doubt she thought too she had
ceased to care for me. What sim
plicity , what delicacy , what ta tf
How strange that I could have losfc
her image for so long ! And thus it
ends. " John Corbinin , the Harvard
Advocate.
Doctors' Names.
Something might be said in favor
of the primitive practice of naming
men after they were grown up instead
of while they were babies. Under the
present system it often happens that
a man's name is curiously out of
r.
keeping with his character or pur .
suits. The literary editor of The
Doctor has lateiy been exnmining a
new directory of physicians , and
seems to have been greatly impress
ed by the singularity and inappro-
priatenss of some of the names con
tained in it.
He thinks , for example , that Dr.
Coffin might sound unpleasantly
suggestive to a nervous patient ,
though less so , perhaps , than an
other name which follows it Dr.
Death. A timid person might ob
ject to Dr. Sexton also , and if ono
were very sick indeed it would cer
tainly seem ominous if Dr. Death ,
Dr Coffin and Dr. Sexton were to
hold a consultation at his bedside.
Other names almost as bad as the
foregoing are Dr. Butcher and Dr.
Slaughter , though they occur sever
al times each in the directory. There
are two Dr. Cranks fewer than
might have been expected and one
Dr. Craze , who is perhaps in charge
of an insane asylum.
Some of the names may be called
inappropriately appropriate , sudi
ns Aiken. Carver , Cutter , Hash. Diet ,
Hurt , Mangle , Pellett , Pillmore ,
Tomb and Toothaker , Dr. Ague and
j Dr. Shivers might very well be part
ners , and if a third man were wanted
! they could hardly do better than to
, call in Dr. Sweat.
A Queer Industry.
For years ninny natives had made
a snug living out of the hunting , and
killing of cobras and other reptiles
for which head money was offered.
It was a perilous occupation and
many men lost their lives at it. Bufi
now an easier and simpler plan hart
been adopted , which is also moro
profitable. This is nothing Jess than
cobra farming. The cunning Hindoos
caught a number of the snakes alive
and imprisoned them in a carefully
constructed pen , from which escape
was impossible , but in which the co
bras would feel entirely at home.
There the snakes increased and mul
tiplied at an amazing rate. From
time to time the snake farmers would
thin out their stock and get the
bounties on a few dozen heads. The-
business was conducted just as syste
matically as poultry raising. About ,
200 cobras were kept as breeders , ,
and the yield of marketable snakeheads -
heads was large. But the govern
ment officials became suspicious be
cause of the business-like way in
which the heads were brought in ,
and theirinvestigationssoon exposed
the whole scheme and broke up the
enterprise. Calcutta Correspondence
New York Tribune.
Where Anarchy Lurks ,
Chicago Herald. *
A Springfield , 0. . sweet-girl gradu
ate has patented a new method of
cooking Saratoga chips , and is now
supplying a single firm in Cincinnati
with GOO pounds of chips a. day.
When a young and energetic woman
takes it into her head to be a useful
member of society jshe generally
succeeds. When some inventive
genius finds a way of cooking tripe
so that it will not taste like a fried
liver-pad there Till be less excuse for
anarchy.