Most men can do some things well, but nature is seldom so lavish of her gifts as to produce a genius who does all things equally well. It is rare to find a man like Dr. Coues, who was capable of incessant drudgery in the most prosaic technicalities, yet blessed with the poetic temperament and ardent imagination, able to array the deepest problems in a sparkling style which fascinated while it convinced. His literary labors would have killed most men, but to his grasp of mind nature had kindly joined a strong, healthy body that proved capable of any demand upon his physical endurance that his intellectual activity might make. He was tall, well-formed, classic in features, straight as an arrow, with the air of the scholar without the student's stoop, betraying no trace of mental weariness--a man with the tastes of a sybarite and the soul of a poet; to quote from a leading journal, "the imagination of a Goethe and the research of a Humboldt." In conversation he was fascinating, possessing much of the personal magnetism ascribed to James G. Blaine. It was the pleasure of the writer to have many interviews and to enjoy a somewhat intimate correspondence with him almost up to the time of his death. BOBBY'S "COTTON-TAIL." GRANVILLE OSBORNE. I. Name's Bobby Wilkins; I'm a-goin' on six years old; Aunt Polly says 'at I'm a-gettin' purty pert 'n bold; She 'aint er might uv use fer boys 'at's jest er-bout my size; If Tabby'n me hev eny fun her "angry pashuns rise," 'n When I try ter make some sparks fly out uv Tabby's tail Aunt Polly says, "Bad boys like you are sometimes put in jail;" But I don't mind her not a bit, an' make jest lots uv noise, An' nen she looks so cross an' sez, "Deliver me frum _boys_." II. My Aunt Polly likes her cat er-nough sight better'n me, 'n' Keeps a-coddlin' it 'ith cream 'n' sometimes catnip tea. Seen some tracks behin' ther shed, an' nen I sez, sez I, "I'll catch yer, Mister Cotton-Tail, to make a rabbit pie;" So me'n' Tommy Baker found er empty cracker box; Thought we'd hev it big er-nough fer fear he wuz er fox, An' nen we propped ther cover up 'n' fixed it 'ith a spring 'At shut it suddin' 'ith a bang ez tight ez anything. III. We cut er fresh green carrot top 'n' put it in fer bait, Wuz both so sure we'd ketch him 'at we couldn't hardly wait; Pounded in some stakes each side 'n' made it good 'n' stout; If Mister Cotton-Tail got in he never could get out. Tom staid 'ith me till mornin', an' almos' 'fore it wuz light We run behin' ther shed 'n' foun' our trap all shet up tight; An' nen I shouted, "Got him!" 'n' Tom threw up his hat-- Blame 'f that ol' rabbit wasn't my Aunt Polly's cat! "THE COUNTRY, THE COUNTRY!" FROM A CLUB OF ONE, BY A. P. RUSSELL, L. H. D.[A]