Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1888-05-31

curiosity as would have delighted his
doctor. A crowd of opera singers
came out of the restaurant at the
corner, and as the Iatticed doors
swung like pendulums, he had winks
OF views oil sanded floor, round
tables, walters in white linen Jackets,
little hillocks Of golden bread piled on
the counter. little green forests of
chicory, tumblers OF red wine. The
opera singers were talking away and
singing airily scraps OF Rossini a1ud
Verdi rs If there was nothing in the
world so common as grand opera,
The women were fat and reminded
him OF the rue de la Paix and the
boulevard DIES Italiens, and tine men
had beautiful throats rising above
their low cut collars. And then he
looked over the way again. She was
at the piano singing, with her beauti-
full head on one side like birds.
Monsieur Microbee, Monsieurl
Your new milk will be hold if you do
not soon drink it up" called laughing
Nanette from the balcony above the
entresol and pelted him with q rose.
Professor Microbe smiled. Not the
way he smiled when he evolved new
theory or when he read his scientific
papers, or even as he smiled in the
stifliy starched bosom of his own fam
lily, but genuine smile that said. II
don't care, Nanette," and he caught
the rose and fastened it in his button
hole.
The beautiful woman was going to
the opera. A carriage was at the
door, and she stood before the mirror,
pulling out the rich puffs of her night
black hair and fastening red rose
behind her ear. Her lovely arms were
uplifted, and a song and a laugh came
from her red mouth. Some one wrap
ped a cloak about her, gave her her
fan. glasses. gloves and flowers. and
then she was gone.
Is 1t necessary to explain that Pro.
lessor Microbe followed her to the
opera, nearly paralyzine Nanette when
she met him in the corridor dressed IN
faultless evening attire and looking so
distinguished and every inch probes
sor?
He looked about the grand old
building, crowded with women and
here and there the black oasis of q
man, and he recognized with amaze
Elent and relief the familiar faces and
bald heads and peculiar bumps of
quite a number OF learned professors
and distinguished M. DIS. These sat
listening to the mnsic OF "WIlliam
Tell" erunting contentedly over the
sweetest passages and at the difficult
bars, saying broadly and loudly,
"Bravol bravo" as. il grand opera
and not bacteria. music and not meta
physics, was the very best thing in life.
Under the mummy cloths in which
the professor had persistently wrap
ped his soul. he was a good deal like
otherme There wasn't anything he
wouldn't do, nothing he wouldn't en-
jov, if only he was kept in public coun.
tenance by those OF his own kind. and
the sight OF those familiar bumps-for
no man in the world who knew of such
things could fail to recognize the
bumps OF our learned men, once he
had seen 'em-did more to revolu.
tlonize the professor than gal
Ions OF pspsine or whateve might be
VIC Sb1h stiC thtbhO oAs iiC
at once and forever flung his theory
about midnight suppers to the deuce,
as his doctor had ordered, when he
heard her say to some favored NOR
tails: "come home to supper with us
after the opera"
And that night after the opera he fol.
lowed her home, and went again to
his balcony to gaze into that free,
jolly, Joyous dining room. where no
blinds were pulled down and where
people sat about eating chicken salad
with oil in it and boned turkey and
cold breasts of pheasants with dry
champagne.
lie went into his room finally, and,
heating up little tin OF water over
the gas, took his nishtcup--a cup of
boiling water. What would Mrs.
Microbe say to yon scene OF revelry
and cold turkey, to the piano trolling
out in the midnight air, to the gay
voices, to him listening and watch
ing outside? His thoughts went
back to the pure if stiflly starched
bosom of his family in their far off
home; he remembered the sedate or.
der OF everything, the rules governing
his always tidy home, the regular
hours, the days for doing this and
the days for doing that, the absolute
correctness OF everything and every
body. Life went on in a groove, and
was narrow, but pure and sweet and
clean. He had the best of it, he knew;
over there was much tinsel and flip
pancy, and too much laughing and
singing. He liked that too, or he
thought he would if he might try it
once. 1t was a little hard that oat.
meal mush should be so tasteless and
chicken salad so full oil flavor. What
would Mrs. Microbe say to mid.
night supper in her leather hung ain.
ingroom. By no flight Of fancy could
he think of her as sweeping her hand
around in a genial, general way, and
saying to all who might be present:
"Come home to supper, all of you.
We will find something to eat,
know"
Professor Microbe wrapped his
dressing gown around him and ctept
out upon the balcony. How Jolly
they were across the way, singing
civilian Tell" After all, did his
theories and his oatmeal mush diet
and his laws of abstinencedo him any
more good than William Tell' and
boned turkeyl Live as God Almighty
intended you should. Eat and drink
and enjoy this beautiful werld 1t is
a good world, be good and happy in
it. God hates a sordid heart"
The professor reached out to Nan
cites lovely rose vine. he plucked off
every royal sweet blossom and. like q
boy throwing snowballs, he flung
them across the way upon the bal.
cony. And the next day, in writing
up items for the paper, made the fol.
lowing: Professor Ebenezer Microbe,
the distinguished scientist, who has
been spending some time in the
city, returned home this morn
ing, finding that the climate of the
south did not agree with him. -
Catharine Cole in New Orleans Picay-
une.