esulted in
gluing the fly-paper to her person in such a way that the edge turned up
behind her in the most abrupt manner and caused her great inconvenience.

Some one at that time laughed in a coarse and heartless way, and I wish
you could have seen the look of pain that Dr. Mary Walker gave him.

When she went away, she did not go around the prescription case as the
rest of us did, but strolled through the middle of it, and so on out
through the glass door at the rear of the store. We did not see her go
through the glass door, but we found pieces of fly-paper and fur on the
ragged edges of a large aperture in the glass, and we kind of jumped at
the conclusion that Dr. Mary Walker had taken that direction in retiring
from the room.

Dr. Mary Walker never returned to St. Paul, and her exact whereabouts
are not known, though every effort was made to find her. Fragments of
fly-paper and brindle hair were found as far west as the Yellowstone
National Park, and as far north as the British line, but the Doctor
herself was not found. My own theory is that if she turned her bow to
the west so as to catch the strong easterly gale on her quarter, with
the sail she had set and her tail pointing directly toward the zenith,
the chances for Dr. Mary Walker's immediate return are extremely slim.

BILL NYE'S LETTER.

THE HUMORIST WRITES FROM HIS WINTER RESORT IN HIS USUALLY HAPPY VEIN ON
VARIOUS TOPICS.

ASHEVILLE, N. C.--As soon as I saw in the papers that my health was
failing, I decided to wing my way South for the winter. So I closed up
my establishment at Slipperyelmhurst, told the game-keeper not to
monkey with the preserves and came here, where I am now writing. At
first it seems odd to me that I should be writing from where I now am,
but the more I think it over the better I am reconciled to it, for what
better place can a man select from which to write a letter than the
point where he is located at the time.

Asheville is an enterprising cosmopolitan city of six or seven thousand
people and a visiting population during the season of sixty thousand
more. It is situated in the picturesque valley of the French Brood and
between the Blue Ridge and the Alleghanies. Asheville is the metropolis
of Western North Carolina, and has no competition nearer than Knoxville,
Tenn., one hundred and sixty miles away, and, in fact, not in any way
competing with Asheville, for it is in another county altogether.

This region of c