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THE JOURNAL.
"WEDNESDAY, JUNE 25, 1884.
Sstersd it tie P sstgSci, Csluatai, Sit., si final
dux matte;.
2b the Editor:
Here Is a balmy little thin-.
To fillyour heart with Joy;
But as It Is a sons of epttag.
I send It by a hoy.
the roue
The vine on the cot is blowing,
The nest is built la the tree,
jted the apple limbs are snowing
Their blooms in the fragrant lea.
The bird to his mate is sinffinr.
The lambkin skips on the hill.
And the rosy clover's springing
Beside the gurgling- rill.
Sir Strephon his lore is sighing.
The cricket begins to chirp.
And the boy In the back yard's tying
The can to the brindled purp.
Above the lake in the hollow
That mirrors a cloudless sky
Is darting the airy swallow.
And the purple dragon-fly.
The bumble-bee in the garden
Buns riot the livelong day.
And Maud In her Dolly Varden
Plucks flowers along the way.
SirStcpbon his love is sighing,
The cricket begins to chirp.
And the boy In the back yard's tying
The can to the brindled purp.
POSTSCRIPT.
If this poetic daisy
Should make you sad and sore.
And get you wild and crazy
To spill mo on the floor.
And hurl me through the casement,
Or maul me like a toy.
And drop me to the basement.
Why take it out of the boy 1
EPITAPH.
Beneath this stone lies Johnny Green,
An office-boy of modest mien.
Who found the pathway to the tomb.
Straight from an editorial room.
R. K. Mutilcittricl:, in Uarpcft Magazine.
AXXISa.
Pastor Comba was a Waldcnsian
clergyman, whose acquaintance 1 made
at a prayer meeting in Venice. There
are prayer meetings in Venice, and the
Italians relate their experiences and
sing hymns with all the fervor of en
thusiastic Methodists. My friend, Miss
Leslie, called for me, one evening, and
I accompanied her because I thought it
rather noval to glide to a prayer meet
ing in a gondola. We went some dis
tance, twisting through narrow canals,
turning innumerable corners, shooting
a score of bridges, while the soft moon
light beamed as brightly as it did on
the night when Jessica escaped from
Shylock's house. We halted at last be
fore a great, grim palace, and a tall
man hastened forward to help us up the
lippery steps. This was Pastor Com
ba, a singularly handsome man, with a
silky beard and mustache covering the
. lower part of his face. He led the way
up a wide marble staircase to a large
room, where thirty or forty men and
women were assembled. Some were
devout souls; some, like me, had been
brought by a friend; and a few were
thero out of sheer curiosity. One peas
ant entered, looked about him with a
puzzled air, and asked what was going
oa. The reply made him cross himself
and hasten away, shaking the unholy
dust from his feet.
The room had been, in days gone by,
a bammet hall, and the1 ceiling showed
rosy U3'iuj)hs and bacchantes, now very
dingy and badly defaced. As an offset
to these pagan pictures, one side of the
hall was covered with Scripture texts,
and where a Catholic would have looked
to find a basin of holy water was a ta
ble full of tracts. In a corner stood a
parlor organ, a young lady seated on a
tool before it, intcntlystudyingahymn
book. Thither Pastor Comba led us,
and introduced us to his niece, Signo
rina Annina Comba. She was not more
than seventeen a pretty, slim, dark
haired slip of a girl, who looked very
demure, but her black eyes were bub
bling over with life and fun. She had
in her hands a copy of Sankey's hynius,
an Italian version. The prayer
meeting begau with Hold the 1-ort,
Signorina Annina pla3-ing the organ
and joining in the singing. Uverlieaa,
the nymphs still smiled sweetly, and
the bacchantes never dropped their
wreaths; but two or three gondoliers
went out of the hall, knocking a few
benches over to show their disap
proval. Pastor Comba made a fervid
address; a white-headed man in the
audience rose, and described his con
version: and finally there came an ex
hortation from a young man, who ap
S;ared to be not more than twenty,
is eloquence was tremendous. Sig
norina Annina's great eyes dilated, and
Miss Leslie cried, but the crowd went
crazy. Everybody wanted to speak at
once, when the young man sat down,
and the air was rent with passionate
voices that Pastor Comba tried in vain
to quell. Wiicn order was restored we
went home: but we had first been in
vited by the clergyman to dine with
him and his niece outhefollowingeven
ing. i'iius began my acquaintance with
the Combas, and that winter I boarded
with them in Florence, whither the
pastor had been sent to take charge of
a Protestant chapel. He had a charm
ing wife, but no children, and Annina
passed the winter with them, in order
that she might study music Her home
was in Turin, aud I asked her, one day,
at the dinner table, if there was no
good music teachers there.
She smiled significantly, and her un
cle shook shook his linger at her.
"Yes, there are music teachers there,"
he said, "and there is also a young
man there, and he distracts Annina's
mind; so she muststayhere in Florence,
if she will learn any tiling."
Annina very soon told me that she
was engaged to be married, and ia a
week 1 knew all about Allesio Ghian
daja. I heard of his blue eyes, his
curly hair, his beautiful white hands
and his sweet tenor voice. Annina
showed me his portrait, which she wore
in a locket, and 1 pleased her by saying
that he must be very handsome.
"An Apollp!" she exclaimed.
She wrote many letters to him. and
received many in return, and as a favor
she would occasionally show me a line
or two. We became excellent friends,
despite the disparity of our ages, and I
often took her with me to walk, or to
visit the galleries. She talked contin
ually about her Allesio; but she spoke
in Italian, so it was good practice for
me in that language. He was a neigh
bor's son, aud she had known him from
babyhood.
"But we did not love," she said,
"until one summer, when his family
and mine went to Switzerland together.
Then we found out"
"Did he tell you?" I asked.
She looked much scaudalized. "He
told my mother," she answered, "and
mother told me; but I knew it before,"
she added, naively. "There is much
in a glance."
The rogue shot a demure sidelong
look -at me, as 'she said this, and gave
an ecstatic little skip. We were walk
ing in the cascine, and the officers be
stowed bold stares of admiration on
Annina. She was very pretty, and by
no means unconscious of it; but she
talked of her beauty in the same frank
way that she did of 'her love affair.
"Were you ever alone with Allesio
I mean after you became engaged?"
I asked, wondering whether old cus
toms still held sway.
"So, no!" she cried. "That niv
other would never allow."
I felt her hand tighten on my arm,
sad she suddenly became silent. She
did net even grow gay at the sight at
Mr. Livingstone driving his sixteen or
eighteen horses. At dinner, she spoke
hardly a word, and her uncle rallied
' oa her melancholy, her unwonted
So letter from Allesio?" he
said; for when no letter came, Annina
usually wept copiously.
"O. she had a ream of paper this
morning, his wife answered, a trifle
impatiently. -She was a plain, matter-of-fact
woman, and she thought Annina
a Hilly, romantic girl, whose enthusiasm
should be crushed She told me pri
vately that she had a very poor opinion
of Allesio Ghiandaja.
"My brother-in-law would do better
to arrange s marriage for Annina with
his partner, Signor Benelli," she said.
"He is a prudent, middle-aged man,
and would make an excellent hus
band." "But if she lore3 Allesio?" I asked;
for although I was forty-seven, I was
sentimental.
Signora Comba shrugged her hand
some shoulders. "Annina's love doesn't
count .for much," she replied. "She
would love a broomstick."
I did not agree with her. Annina
was a child of an ardent, passionate
temperament. She could love, and she
loved Allesio.
Late that night she came to my bed
room, dressed in a flowing white wrap
per and a pair of scarlet flippers, her
long black hair floating about her shoul
ders. If she had sung the mad-song
from Lucia I should not have been par
ticularly surprised; but I was surprised,
not to say horrified, when she flung
herself on her knees before me and
burst out crying. I finally succeeded
in comforting her, and she" raised her
disheveled head. "O," she .moaned,
"you will think me so wicked! I lied
to you. I did see Allesio alone once.
It was in the garden, and by moon
light. You will never tell? Promise
me never to tell."
I solemnly promised. I had heard of
lovers in a moonlight garden before,
and I mentioned the fact now.
"But in America!" she exclaimed, as
though anything were possible there. 'I
was 60 frightened that evening!" She
shuddered at the recollection. "1 only
stayed ten minutes, and I was trembling
all the time; for if niy mother had dis
covered us, she oh, I can't think what
she would have done!"
I saw him at Christmas time, this
Sipjnor Ghiaudaja, for he came with his
future mother-in-law to pay a visit.
They arrived late one evening, and the
mother entered first. AHosio had
stopped below to pay the cabman, she
said; but in a minute he walked into
the drawing-room, where Jwe wore all
assembled. He greeted Pastor Comba
and his wife, he was introduced to me,
and finally he approached Annina, with
both hands outstretched. She came
forward slowly, her head banging and
a hot flush dyeing her checks; she put
her hands in his and looked up at him
shyly. He glanced over his shoulder
at the mother, a plump, consequential
little woman. "With j-our permission,"
he said; then without waiting for it, he
stooped "and kissed Annina. For a
moment she stood bewildered. Her
mother began to laugh, and Annina
covered her face with her hands and
ran away, while Allesio twirled his
mustache and looked very handsome.
I admire audacity in a man, and I ad
mired him, although thero was a gleam
in his eyes that made me distrust him.
Ho divined that I was simpaiica, and
during his visit he poured out his heJrt
to me, as Annina had poured out hers.
I took these lovers under my wing; I
carried them off on walks and drives,
never neglecting an opportunity to turn
my back on them, and acting deaf and
blind to their whispers and glances In
return these lovers declared an undying
affection for me.
"You must come and see us, when we
are married," Allesio said, "ibere
shall be a room set apart for you; and
you must stay weeks a whole winter.
Annina mta and I will try to prove that
we are not ungrateful. We shall never
forget you, eh, Annina?"
She shook her head and slipped her
hand in mine, by way of reply. She
never chattered in his hearing; she be
came shy and silent in his presence,
hardly daring to raise her eyes; but
when she did raise them, it was to be
stow an eloquent glance on her lover.
At table she sat beside him, and she
blushed when he fillod her wineglass,
blushed again when he passed her tiie
bread. Alone with me, however, she
rattled away as though to make up for
lost time.
Once 1 asked her who Signor Benelli
was, and she looked at me in surprise.
"Papa's partner,'.' she replied.
"Do you like him, Annina?"
"Cost, cosi. He is not young; he is
fat, he is bald, but he is very amiable."
Clearly the thought of him as a suitor
had never entered her head, and I con
cluded that Signora Comba had men
tioned him only to contrast him with
Allesio. 1 rather fell in love with the
young man, too. He was always the
same, serene and smiling; perhaps a
triae arrogant, a trifle vain, but cour
teous and considerate. Annina's mother
I disliked, for she seemed a purse-proud
dame, and I know that she told Signora
Comba that I ought to pay more for my
board. Annina stood in awe of her, and
her mother corrected her continually.
It was "Sit up, Annina;" or, "Turn
out your toes, Annina;" or, "Take care
what you say, Annina." I was glad
when the tiresome woma went, but I
missed Allesio's bright smile and melo
dious voice, and Annina was sad-eyed
for a week. She wrote more letters
than ever, and received more; mean
while the spring came up our way.
Annina grew very religious; she went
to prayer-meetings with her uncle, she
attended service three times on Sunday
and she visited the poor with her aunt.
She became interested in a Protestant
charity school; so she taught ragamuf
fins the Testament twice a week. The
ragamuflius' fathers and mothers, ig
norantfolk. Pastor Comba declared, did
not like a see their children taught, and
they stoned the school-room one day.
Annina came home, a martyr, with her
right wrist sprained ; so I wrote letters
for her to Allesio. In them she des
cribed minutely all that she did and
thought; nothing was too trivial, and I
was skeptical enough to .wonder if any
man lived in this workaday world
who could read one of those ten-page
letters through, every morning for a
year. But a man in love performs ex
traordinary feats there is no doubt of
that.
Suddenly, Allesio's letters stopped.
The days went by, and it was almost a
week since Annina had heard from him.
She ato nothing, she refused to go out,
and she locked herself in her room to
weep and be miserable. Her uncle
and aunt and I met in conclave one
evening, for we feared she would fall
ill.
"She was very feverish, last night,"
declared Pastor Comba, who loved his
niece, albeit he teased her unmerci
fully. "She has eaten almost nothing for a
week," said his wife.
"She will die if he deserts her," added
L the sentimental spinster.
Then we three grown-up people
smiled, but we all felt sorry for the
POOr Ctrl. The, next mnminiririi oalln1
in a physician, who looked very grave.
"She must be cajoled," he said." "If
she will not eat, and will not go out,
and will only cry, she will surely get
the fever. There is a good deal of
fever this spring." -
What were we to do ? We cajoled,
we commanded, we implored ; but An
nina refused to eat more than the least
morsel of bread, or to drink anvthincr
but a little water. A girl might keep
that up for two days l mean a girl
who was shamming but Annina kept
it up for nearly two weeks. At last a
letter came from Allesio a short letter,
written in a wavering hand and dated
at Paris. He wrotsOhat hf was ill-and
among strangers, but that he was slo w-
ijjptttsg setter, -annas was
to go to him by the first train she
even tried to run away; so we all.
watched her like cats until Allesio was
well and back in Turin. As his letters
grew regular- she regained her appe
tite and was soon her joyous self once
more.
It was my plan to join Miss Leslie in
Venice that spring, but before I left
Florence I bought a wedding present
for Annina, which I confided to Pastor
Comba's care. She besought me to come
to her wedding, which was to take place
in September, and sobbed when I told
her that in September I hoped to return
to America.
"You will be in Europe again ?" she
said, lifting her tearful face from my
shoulder.
"Yes, I shall come to Europe again,"
I replied.
"Then you must surely pay Allesio
and me a long visit." She put her
mouth close to my ear. "I shall be
his wife," she whispered. "I shall be
Annina uhiandaja.
"The cab is here!"
cried
Pastor
Comba. and I tore
myself free
from
Annina s clinging arms.
She wrote me several letters that
summer. She seemed very happy, for
she was traveling with her parents, and
Allesio was with them for awhile. I:i
September, as I was speeding towa d
London, an old gentleman in the rail
way carriage saw that 1 was reading
Italian, and addressed me in that
tongue, He was very polite to me, in
a benign way, and told me that he was
a banker in Turin ; so 1 asked him if
he knew Giovanni Comba, the silk mer
chant. "Yes, indeed," he replied ; "I know
him and his family very well. Are you
acquainted with them ?"
"With the signora and with An
nina," I said.
"Ah. Annina," ho repeated. "I
trotted her on my knee the other day,
and now she is engaged to be mar
ried." "To Allesio Ghiandaja," I added.
"He is not worth' of her," said the
old banker. "He drinks and he gam
bles. He went to Paris last spring, aud
returned half dead from the effects of
dissipation. I hope Comba will break
off the match. Little Annina deserves
a better husband."
Just before the steamer sailed from
Liverpool I received a letter from An
nina. She wrote in the gayest of spir
its, although she told me that her mar
riage had been postponed.
"Dear Allesio mu3t go to Lyons on
business," she wrote, "but he will soon
return. I have made him a little trav
eling cap of blue silk, and you cannot
think how well he looks iuit. He says
that he will not dare wear it, for all the
girls will fall in love with him, and he
will surely bo carried oil by somebody.
And then,' he adds, 'what would you
do, Annina, iia?" Ah, what should I
do!"
So she ran on for ten pages Allesio,
Allesio, always Allesio. I answered as
soon as I reached New York, and in
the next letter I expected to hear of
Annina's marriage. As the weeks
slipped by I pictured the child on her
wedding journey, too happy to write to
me or anybody else. The new year
dawned, a clear, frosty day, the sky a
dazzling blue, and the" air full of pow
dery snow that blew off the house-tops.
On such a day the sentimental traveler
thinks of orauge groves, of gray olive
orchards, of the blue, tidefess sea
breaking on the Southern coast. It
was on that day that I received my last
letter from Annina; for, although I had
written to her several times, she had
ignored me completely. After I read
it I brought out the letter that had
reached me in Liverpool, and re-read
that, hardly able to believe my own
eyes. Some da' I mean to go to Europe
again, and I shall certainly look up An
nina. I do not know what to think of
her. The letter I received in
Liverpool was written in August;
the letter I received in New
York was writen four months later.
The last letter I will translate as
literall' as possible, keeping the original
punctuation. Such a neat letter! I
wonder if she dashed it off at fever
heat, or composed it carefully, biting
the pen-holder with her white little
teeth, and wrinkling her pretty brows!
If 1 could answer this, I should think
that I understood the mystery.
Piazza d'Azeglio.
Turin, 4 December.
Deau Miss Pensuian: Since last I
wrote to you, so much has happened
that my poor brain is in quite a' whirl.
I am the happiest of women, the wife
of the best of men and mistress of the
prettiest house in all Turin. Just think,
a whole house! Mamma, who still
lives in an apartment, envies me, 1
know. It is a great thing to be mar
ried. Everybody treats me with re
spect, even mamma, but I must except
my cook, Assunta, who used to be my
uurse and who still considers me a
child and scolds me. I was mar
ried in white silk (hand embroid
ered!) and my husband gave me
pearls to wear. He is so good,
so kind! I love him better every
dav, if that were possible. Dear uncle
married us, anil then went to Africa to
rescue the heathen from their darkness.
We all pray that he may succeed in his
labors and that his health may hold
good. Aunt Maria went with him.
She wore her old gray silk at the wed
ding, and cried all the time. I never
saw her cry before, but I suppose she
was thinking of Africa.
After the wedding, the journey! My
husband let me plan the route. I could
not decide, so he helped me, and we
bought guidebooks and maps, and final
ly we made up our minds to travel
through our own country. I had never
been farther south than Florence. We
visited Genoa and Pisa, and finally went
to Rome, and spent two delicious weeks
there, visiting those monuments that
history has rendered so familiar. We
both caught cold, and my husbaud was
ill for two days and I nursed him, glad
to show my devotion and yet grieved
that he should suffer! He recovered en
tirely and we were able to proceed to
Naples, where we lingered in rapture
before that beautiful bay so often de
scribed in prose and poetry. Then on
toPompeii! 1 thought of that terrible day
when Vesuvius overwhelmed the smi
ling country and dealt death to men at
their labor, women with their children
in their arms. My husband bought me
somePompeiian ornaments for my draw
ing room, but they were so ugly that I
was not sorry when, on arriving home,
I found that I had left them in the hotel
at Naples.
At last the journey was over and we
returned to Turin. "We are living in a
lovely house in the Piazza d'Azeglio.
It is beautifully furnished, and I nave
the old cook, Assunta; but I mean to
send her away, for she still treats me
like a child. In my own room I have
put the lovely present you left for me,
and. I thank yon for it a. thousand times.
You were so kind to me there in Flor
ence. I often speak of you to my hus
band, who joins me in hoping that you
will pay as a long visit very soon. He
wants to do everything for me, and is
the kindest, dearest of husbands.
And now I must end my long letter
with the hope that it finds you well and
in good spirits: Think sometimes of
me, and remember that I am the hap
piest woman in this great world that
the good God has given to his unworthy
servants. Ankina Bbxelli.
P. S. It is not Allesio!
Charles Dunning, in Atlantic Monthly.
T
Four nine-voar-old boys were re
cently brought into a New Haven couit
for mocking and teasing a policeman.
The Judge sentenced them to be con
fined in the woman's department of the
station-house until three o'clock in the
afternoon. Bartford FuL
IfeuroBltohla.
In the afternoon of one of the sunniest
days last week two men got on a Madi
son avenue car going dowu town at the
corner of Fifty-fourth Street. One was
a thin pallid, rather emaciated gentle
man, possibly forty years of age, with
a peculiar transparency of the temples,
restless eyes and a singular nervousness,
of manner; the other large, well
nourished, massive and rather corpu
lent, with the placid, self-satisued
countenance of the man who has suc
ceeded in the world and feels oa good
terms with it. The pair might readily
have been mistaken for a madman and
his keeper, only the feebler of the two
J was evidently not past the verge of san
' ity, while the placid companion was a
' trine less vigilant than the custodian of
a maniac ought to be, aud moreover
was recognized by at least one passen
ger as a famous physician.
The thin gentleman shifted his posi
tion uneasily, gazed out of the ear win
dow a moment, then studied the faces
of his three or four fellow passengers
with the rapid intensity of a physiog
nomist, and glanced furtively at the
open door, in which the figure of the
conductor was framed like a full-length
, photograph.
! "Fares, gents,' grumbled that
functionary, stalking into the car. The.
J thin gentle'man paid for two, and again
j -glanced in the direction of the open
uoor. ins uauu suuuiv as nu rcpiaccu
ibis pocket-hook, and a shiver passed
over him. His portly companion turned
and spoke to him in a low tone. The
words wcro inaudible, and the intona
tions were soft, soothing and evidently
expostulatory. Suddenly the pale pas
'scnger spraug to his feet, pulled the
bell violently and rushed out of the car,
which was uow midway between Forty
eighth and Forty-ninth Streets. The
portly physician rose from his scat in a
leisurely, "comfortable sort of way, and
alighted at the corner of Forty-eighth
street, where the car came to a full stop.
The thin gentleman, excited, nervous,
out of breath, and trembling all over
like a leaf in the wind, joined the doc
tor and began to speak apologetically:
"No use, you see. I can't stand it.
You really must excuse me, doctor.
"Pooh! pooh!" laughed the portly
physician, "You'll conquer the thing
"by "and by. Try agaiu, my dear boy."
"I'll step across and take the elevated
down town with your permission, Doc
tor," said the thin gentleman, making
no direct reply to his friend's exhorta
tion. He lifted his neat Derby hat,
.with a hand that was almost pellucid
in its delicacy and whiteness, and was
gone.
"That man," said the doctor, "is one
of a hundred cases that have come
under my notice in the last few years
- a strange cae of nervous impression.
He is not in the least timid; will ride
dowu town in a Third avenue car, a
Broadway stage, or au elevated train,
with perfect composure, but he has a
morbid, unconquerable nervous terror
of the Fourth avenue, and would suffer
any inconveniece or incur any expense
rather than ride in a Fourth avenue car.
I can't trace this impressson to any
tangible cause, nor can he. He h:is
never met with an accident on the
vFourth avenue, so far as he remembers.
It is simply one of those inexplicable,
.unreasoning, spontaneous impressions
of the nervous system that no science
can explain. The man is not a crank,
nor in the least given to eccentricities
of opinion or manners. On the con
trary, his name is familiar as that of a
r shrewd banker. As to courage, he is
as brave as a lion, as I have occasion
to know, and would fight odds of ten to
one, if his blood was up. Only, the
moment he finds himself on a Fourth
avenue car he is seized with a paroxysm
of nervous terror which he cannot con
trol; and that is tho end of it."
The doctor mused a moment. "Walk
across with me to my office," he said,
"and I'll talk with you by the way.
Such cases are by no means uncommon,
though no paper has oyer been written
on the subject, aud there is no name
for the malady in the medical books.
The late Dr. George M. Beard as able
and acute as he was eccentric invented
the term neurophobia to describe the
condition existing in such cases, and
the singular thing about this neuropho
bia is that it seldom occurs with women,
given, as they are supposed to be, to
nervous impressions and hysterical
fancies."
In one of the doctor's oflico journals
there were notes of this case: A!
patient, a man of tolerably robust and
well nourished physique, forty-six
vears old, lawyer by profession cannot
bear to cross Broadway at the Astor
House. He will walk down to Fulton
Street or up to Park plaae, but cross1
under tho shadow of the Astor House
nover. There is no assignable cause for
the terror; it simply exists and that is
all. It came upon him suddenly one
afternoon two years ago, after a
hard day's work in court. He started
for the Astor House to get a cup of
coffee and his regular half a dozen raw
oysters. To his wonder, as he was
about to step from the curbstone at the
corner of the postoilico he was seized
with a fit of trembliug and terror, and
since then he has never been able to
command himself to cross at that point,
though he has often tested his self-
control by trying it.
Another patient had the same terror
of the Jersey City Ferry at the foot of
Corllandt Street The Brooklyn ferries
have no terrors for him, the Desbrosses
Street Ferry is not objectionable, but
if his life depended upon crossing to
Jersey City at Cortlandt Street he could
not command his nerves to accomplish
it As in the other two, there is no as
sign able cause for the morbid impres
sion in this case. It came suddenly,
and has been in existence for four years.
"Sometimes," continued the doctor,
"the victim has a terror.of a certain
street avenue, or public square; and
one man I know cannot pass the statue
of Lincoln at Union Square without ex
periencing a nervous tremor. But, with
regard to some of our outdoor statuary,
nervous dread is natural enough."
"One of my patients," he went on,
"a literary man of some reputation, has
a nervous terror of words ending in or
containing the diphthong 'chS This
man will take any trouble to avoid tho
relative pronoun 'which.' He has not
for years witten any one of the words
terminating in tch such as catch, fetch,
scratch, batch, latch or patch. For
match he always writes lucifer or Ve
suvian; for fetch, either bring or ob
tain; for catch, he uses capture or some
other proximate. He has often tried to
overcome the prejudice, but some how
his hand begins to tremble, his breath
comes short and he cannot form the let
ters. For character, he always writes
disposition, reputation, kind, descrip
tion anything that will pass muster as
a substitute."
Cases of neurophobia as concerns
colors are not uncommon. One of the
Doctor's patients a woman this time
is driven into hysteria by a certain
pale, cold shade of blue. And a nerv
ous, fidgety little man, who called
upon him to be treated for musicians'
cramp, boxed his ears in his own office
for wearing a crimson scarf, and
begged his pardon for it. declaring he
could not control himself if his life de
pended upon it
The peculiar nervous affection illus
trated in the preceding cases must not
be confounded with the mere whimsical
prejudices and fancies common with
invalids. The latter, though persistent:
and often not easily banished by the
will, are by no means unconquerable,
while in neurophobia the symptoms are'
physical in their description. The-'
patient shrieks aud shuddors, aud the I
-t wa tlimirrl ai-viirirl ' aoa Xr .... I
qoerable &9 tEa diead of death. N. Y
SftM.
KRAUSE,
TIE "DEERING"
WHICH IS FAB AHEAD OF
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Lightest draft Binder made, and the only Binder which does not injure
horses' necks, all the heavy gearing and machin
ery being behind.
The followiug illustrations show a few of
over its competitors:
The following cuts
show the pieces of the
Deering- cord holder and
knotter when taken
apart -only six in mim-
er,
ftsL $ 1
Which when put together are really
only two, as shown in this cut.
?- - ""irT.'?"t"V7j
A neat little device,
shown in the following;
cut has been added to
the Deering Binder for
'84, this extension butt
board, which is adjusted
to machine as shown in
cut farther dowii.
Makes all the bundles bound by the
Deering square at the butts, thus not
allowing any of the grain to slip out
and waste while handling the bundles.
Ta A
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It will readily be seen
that this gives the Deering
an immense advantage
over all its competitors,
who cannot do better than
shown in this cut.
Testimonials, as to the merits of the
"DEERING," of twenty-four of the
leading farmers of Platte county who
bought " DEERING " Binders last
year will be furnished, and any wish
ing to see the "DEERING" Binder
are cordially invited to call on
SSL-RATTSE
fakm -machinery,
Wno
Thirteenth. Street,
S"""gjgafrg'"rsI f tygT"Eji'jf.
Of the Deering Knotter it can truly be '
i
said that it is no complication, no getting
out of order, no springs in Knotter, no
numberless lot of weak little pieces, no
missing of bundles, always sure, very sim
ple, very, strong.
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DEALERS IN
pumps, wind mills,
Will most cneeriuiiy uww jw. ttujumb -. uu
near B. fc M. Depot,
LUBKER
SELL,
TWINE BINDER!
.
ALL COMPETING MACHINES.
the points of advantage
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hardware, stoves
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which the "DEERING" has
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The above is a complica
tion which when taken
apart shows a large number
of small pieces and springs
weak) as shown in cut
Lelow.
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and tinware, etc.,
xv.
COLUMBUS, NEBRASKA.
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