Custer chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, Black Hills, D.T. [S.D.]) 1880-1890, 1889-01-05
THE PR0FESS0 RS DILEMMA.

The Epoch: Nicholas Pontifex was
professor Of botony in Manhattan uni
v~ersity-an angular man with big joints
and a slight stoop, who, like an owl in a
ruin, was pretcrnaturally solemn. His
whiskers were wiry and thin, his hair re-
sembled nothing so much as a shock of
corn, and when he smiled with nervous
urbanity he displayed an unbroken row
OF white teeth. Absent minded, he was
Of a kind with that German savant who
knocked at his own door and demanded
If the master of the house were in. Awk.
ward, he found an asphalt walk a place
OF pitfalls. To aggravate his drawbacks
Pontifex wore clothes that might have
been cut by a sailmaker, so loose and un-
artistic was their conformation.
All this being admitted, the professor
was a herberium of plant lore, and he
was never known to trip in spelling the
Latin name or any member of the vege.
table kingdom. Such was the man who
one day announced to his friends that he
was engaged TO marry Priscilla Prim.
The announcement excited derisl,n in
some minds.
The idea of an old dryasdust like that
marrying said q club man.
BLESS me, he's too 5ashful to do it,
you know circulated another.
"A nice pair they'll make indeed, said
a young matron. Priscilla couldn't say
boo TO "A goose"
There was no denying Miss Prim was a
very proper young lady. she belonged
to IN ancient Salem family, and clung
tenaCiOusly TO Puritan tradition that ~,
she seemed to. She had a round white
forehead, hair tied behind in a severe
knot, and she dressed in nuns gray with
out ornaments. Her manners were most
precise, and her pale face seldom flushed.
She never wore a low bodice, but even
her enemies admitted her figure to be
good.
why don't you show those fine shout
ders?' inquired a lady friend once.
Il can't bring myself to it," said
Priscilla, blushing.
The courtship between Pontifex and
Miss Prim was at long range. There
were no twilight sittings with softening
moods and tender pressures. The ex-
change OF sentiment was staid, even for
NAL. An abbess would have been more
than satisfied with their relations. But
now and then a faint frown marred the
smoothness of Priscilla's face, for the
professor was sometimes a little dreary
with his scientific terms. However he
was q safe man and would make an ire
proachable husband.
One day Priscilla was not herself.
There was a false note in the music of
the spheres. Her round of duties became
onerous. Interest in the Table Talk of
Cotton Mather' tagged and she threw
the book into a orner Then she
bounced to her feet as any healthy girl
with a scorn for Puritan tones might
have done and pressed her white hands to
her waist with a deep chested Sigh. AT
the lime she drew herself up to her full
height, the least blush showing on her
cheek.
Any plant she might have uttered was
checked by the appearance of Mary, the
comely servant maid, who carried a sill
yer tray with n note upon il. The hand.
writing was that Of Prof. Pontifex, and
Priscilla could not restrain a gesture of
Impotence.
The flowers are outside, Miss" said
the girl.
What fowers?' returned Priscilla,
sharply.
Perhaps the note will explain" from
Mary.
1t did explain. 1t ran this way:
DEAR Miss PRISCILLA: | send you an
arrangement Of flowers. To enumerate.
there is the Myosotis Palustris Forget.
me Not.) Bentham, an authority of no
mean weight, admits four species def.
nitely, and a fifth obviously; while
Hooker, an authority no less reliable,
describes eight. Then there is the
Ranuncuius Ticaria (Desser Calandine. J
The characteristic tubes give the plant
its specific name, Ficaria being derived
from ticus, a fig, in allusion TO the figlike
form of those members. Then there is
the Arctium Lappa (Buriock.) In earlier
days the Burdock was called the herif,
aireve or airup; like most other old
names, the spelling was freely varied.
Likewise there are the Digitatis Purpurea,
the Narcissus, Pseudo-Narcissus, and the
Cretagus O~Xyacantha, which you will
recognize as the foxglove, daffodil and
hawthorn. In the words Of the poet,
Hewitt, Priscilla:
When forth | go upon my way, a thousand
joys are mine,
The clusters Of dark ~ytci.ts, the wreaths Of
the wild vine;
My jewels are the primrose pale, the bad
weed AMI the rose;
And show me any courtly gem more beau,i.
full than thou. NICHOLAS"
you may go now, Mary said Pris-
xii, 18th a, O,~ aI .n a. $780,
on the hall table"
Il wonder whether Nicholas will ever
pay any attention to me after we are
married" s~oliloquized Priscilla, when
the girl had retired. Il do wish he
would show more spirit and think less
about those wretched plants. I want
something ia a husband besides Latin
nomenclature. Sometimes ! feel so blue.'
And Priscilla strobe up and down with
a nervous out elastic step, and her bosom
swelled, with emotion.
II might have been two hours later
when Prof. Pontifex approached the
Prim mansion by a lane in the rear, from
which over a vine wreathed fence. there
was q view Of the laundry. 1t was a