you think anybody noticed it?"

He was so genuinely hospitable that when a friend suddenly accepted
his "come up any time" invitation, he found no one at home but the
doctor, who proposed their killing a chicken. Soon one was let out,
but she evaded her pursuers. "You shoo, and I'll catch," cried the
kind host, but shrank back as the fowl came near, exclaiming: "Say,
West, has a hen got teeth?" At last they conquered, plucked, and
cooked her for a somewhat tardy meal, with some potatoes clawed up in
the potato field. Once, when very absent-minded, at a hotel table in a
country tavern, the waitress was astonished to watch him as he took
the oil cruet from the castor and proceeded to grease his boots.

Doctor John Ordronaux, Professor of Medical Jurisprudence at Dartmouth
and various other colleges and medical schools, was another erudite
scholar, who made a permanent impression on all he met. While yet at
college, his words were so unusual and his vocabulary so full that a
wag once advertised on the bulletin board on the door of Dartmouth
Hall, "Five hundred new adjectives by John Ordronaux."

He was haunted by synonyms, and told me they interfered with his
writing, so many clamouring for attention. He was a confirmed bachelor
with very regular habits; wanted his bed to be left to air the entire
day, he to make it himself at precisely 5.30 P.M., or as near as
possible. His walk was peculiar, with knees stiffly bent out and
elbows crooked as if to repel all feminine aggression, "a progressive
porcupine" as someone described his gait. His hour for retiring was
always the same; when calling leaving about 9.30. Rallied about his
methodical habits, he was apt to mention many of his old friends who
had indulged themselves in earthly pleasures, all of whom he had the