My friend, Dr. Fairweather, was engaged when I called, but it so happened that I was in no hurry and could conveniently wait. I have since been glad that things happened as they did; had I not been compelled to wait and amuse myself as best I could, I probably should not have heard what to me was a most interesting story. The colored attendant who took my card and announced me to the doctor, returned and said: “De doctah is right busy just now, suh. He says fo’ you alls to be sho to wait, cayse he wants to see you mos’ pow’ful. I reckon you alls better wait in dis yeh room, suh. De doctah says dat you must mek yo’sef to home.” The servant ushered me into a small apartment, evidently the doctor’s “den,” and handed me the morning paper, which I proceeded to hungrily devour. The paper was the first I had seen in a month--I was just returning from my summer outing trip, and had stopped off _en route_ at P. to see my old friend Fairweather. The doctor was detained for some time, and having finished reading my paper, I proceeded to inspect the curios with which the room was garnished. I had examined with great interest the fine collection of odd Indian relics and the queer weapons from the four quarters of the earth, and was returning to my seat by the window when a grinning human skull upon the mantel caught my eye. It so happens that the human skull is of especial interest to me because of a certain hobby that I enjoy riding at odd moments. I am something of an enthusiast in the subjects of criminology and the relation of the contour and development of the skull to mental and moral qualities. It was with some curiosity therefore, that I picked up the skull and proceeded to critically examine it. I found it well worthy of study and regretted that I could give it only cursory attention. The dwarfed frontal development; the great length of the face; the enormously large, protruding jaw; the huge orbits, with the great projecting bony prominences--the frontal bosses--above them; the general lightness of the bones; the unsymmetrical conformation of the face and the twisted and undeveloped dome of the skull presented a picture that is very familiar to the student of criminal anthropology. So absorbed was I in the contemplation of the gruesome relic I held in my hands, that I was not conscious of the entrance of Dr. Fairweather until he spoke. “Hello, old man!--riding your hobby as usual, I see. No time for your friends, I suppose.” I grasped the doctor’s welcoming hand and replied, “Well, as you were busy, I had to kill time as best I might with this gentleman. He is a poor conversationist, hence I was compelled to utilize him in any way that I could. I must admit that I have found him very interesting--inversely to his loquacity, in fact.” “Ah, indeed; and what do you make of him?”