The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1903-08-14
copyrighted by The Foreign Story Syndi-
cate Co. burlington, VT.

copyrighted by The Foreign Story Syndt-
cate Co. burlington, VT.
1t happened in Copenhagen while I was
living in an attic chamber at the back Of
court. In winter, it was an admirable
refrigerator, in summer a hot-house.
Every night the rats met in concert in
the cutters, just outside my windows.
But apart from these slight inconveni-
ences. my dwelling, was in my eyes, the
ne plus ultra of comfort.
The furniture was such as is to be
found in every struggling students room.
One cane-seated chair, a table. a sofa lit
orally as hard as wood, that did duty for
bed a Sh-Stand, a miniature stove fit
for dolls house, guitar suspended from
the wall and one or two flower pots, the
whole arranged with an eye for artistic
effect "A skull, sawed open in various
places and fragments of yellow bones
seemed placed there in order to recall the
stern worship of science to the owners
mind.
Just opposite me lodged a peculiar fell
low. Altho l met him every day and more
than once a day, we never went further
than to raise our hats in greeting. In the
beginning of my course, I had thought it
Eny duty to make him a call. But a
thunderbolt out of a clear sky is nothing
TO the effect produced by my entrance in
to my neighbours room.
With feversh haste the fellow made
away with the vestiges of his supper.
stammered forth many excuses, grew en-
barrassed in his explanations for the APP
pearance of the above mentioned food
= upset the table and finally overturned a
pitcher of water and himself at the same
time. Our relations began and ended
there
The truth was that the poor fellow
never received anybody. Every evening
at 10 o'clock in winter as we'll as In sum-
mer, his lamp was put out and his door
locked He ate his meals in his room and
their varying menu was composed prin-
cpally of things to be bought of the
butcher.
The strangeness of his appearance and
the solitude in which he buried himself,
produced the usual result: our curiosity
was excited and we soon devoted all our
spare moments to q careful, minute study
of his habits, his ways and his character.
Our research met with excellent results.
He was fellow of exemplary conduct,
a veritabe model of order and economy.
Altho very studious, he had only reached
the grade Of icentiate and he
was 80 years old. Alas! this was because
he was afflicted with an overpowering
timidity parayzing his every action. Al
ways hestating, anxious, regrettng each
step he took, trembling before the pos
sible consequences of every act, he was
stricken with that moral infirrnity that
doctors have often described if they have
rarely treated: the malady of scruples.
Beyond IQlS IneT6 was nothing IeIldIk-
able about him. He was named Schmidt
like every one else. His face, colorless
and beardless, was neither attractive nor
repulsiVe; his blue eyes were both circum
spect and dreamy. His hair, which he
wore long, was an ash colored yellow, and
he of medium height and very thin.
His clothes We're proper and totally oblivi-
Gus of any change in the styles. Who
would dream, after such description,
that this honest fellow was destined to
become the hero Of an adventure!
Nevertheless, this was the man who be-
came the fable Of the Quarter! A tenn
pest Of laughter, of jokes and puns was
unclaimed at the mention Of his name,
yesterday without glory!
Think of 1t! Extraordinary, over
whelming, impossible and yet true, the
news spread quickly, throwing our little
world into fury of glee. Schmidt, the
worthy, the impeccable, the virtuous
licentate Schmidt, had been seen really
seen, the, Monday after Pentecost, in the
early morning, stealing back to his lodg-
ing but in what attire!
Schmidt, who was noted for his respect
Of what Is becoming and proper, was
trouserless
In place of the before mentioned gar
ments, Schmidt was draped in a trailing
bed-quilt, ornamented with bright flow
ersi
could not doubt the veracity of this
statement, for it happened that, returning
from nights duty at the hospital, I had
been the one to see him. You can mag
Inc my surprise at recognizing in the
grotesquely attired being who pushed by
me, my respectable neighbor, Schmidt
Pale, his brow bathed in perspiration he
hastened by with such real anguish paint
ed on his features that did not have the
courage to address him.
The word spread with lightning like ra.
pidity. We talked of nothing else an6
lost ourselves in conjectures.
why this masquerade?'
'Or why such a trick?'
What had become of Schmidt's we'll
known trousers, those brown and gray
trousers, defiantly correct? Were W.
never to see again these objects of al
elegance unique in their way? Schmd
might have other trousers. but they would
not be the same, nor would it be the sam,
Schmidt.
AS soon as the unfortunate fellow
crossed the threshold of the medical col
lege, some one would whisper: Schmidt
what have you done with your trou
sers?' And in the middle of even tn
most serious lecture, from somewhere OF
our benches would rise the absurd ques
ton: HAS any one seen anything of TIL
lcentiates trousers?" Schmidt pretende
not to understand. but the truth was tina
he was suffering horribly from such pub
lcity. He was growing even thinner thai
before.
Sometime after that I went into tn
country to spend Sunday with Madam X
an old friend of my family's and the wido1
of a colonel. She was a very agreeable oil
lady, trif1e biting perhaps, in her speech
and true lover of the ridiculous and fun
ny. After dinner, as we We're drinkin