There is a Houston man who is a great lover of science and an ardent
student of her mysteries. He has a small laboratory fitted up at home
and spends a great deal of his time in experimenting with chemicals
and analyzing different substances.
Of late he has been much interested in various germ theories, and has
somewhat neglected his business to read Pasteur's and Koch's writings,
and everything he could procure relating to sundry kinds of bacilli.
He has bought a new 900-power magnifying instrument, and hopes before
long to add his quota to the number of valuable discoveries concerning
germ life.
Last Tuesday night there was a sociable and supper given at one of the
churches.
The man's wife wanted him to go, but he begged off, saying that he
would much rather stay at home and have a good quiet time with his
microscope, while she went and took the children.
He had been reading ex-State Geologist Dumble's report of his analysis
of Houston bayou water, and he was anxious to verify that gentleman's
statements by an examination of his own.
So, immediately after supper he went through the kitchen and found a
tin bucket full of water sitting on a bench by the hydrant and carried
it at once to his laboratory and, fastening himself in, went to work.
After a time he heard his wife and children leave the house on their
way to the supper at the church, which was only a block or two away,
and he congratulated himself on the nice quiet time he was going to
have.
He worked away for nearly three hours, repeatedly examining through
the powerful microscope samples of the bayou water from the bucket.
* * * * *
At last he slapped his hand on his knee in triumph.
"Dumble's wrong!" he exclaimed. "He says it's the _hybadid cystallis_,
and I'm certain he's mistaken. The inhabitants of this water are
schizomycetic bacteria, but they are neither macrocci of
roseopersicina, nor have they iso-diametric cells.
"Can it be that I have discovered a new germ? Is scientific fame
within my grasp?"
He seized his pen and began to write. In a little while his family
came home and his wife came up to the laboratory. He generally refused
to let her in, but on that occasion he opened the door and welcomed
her enthusiastically.
"Ellen," he cried, "since you have been gone I have won fame and
perhaps fortune. I have discovered a new bacterium in the bayou water.
Science describes nothing like it. I shall call it after you and your
name will pass into eternal fame. Just take a look through the
microscope."
His wife shut one eye and looked into the cylinder.
"Funny little round things, ain't they?" she said. "Are they injurious
to the system?"
"Sure death. Get one of 'em in your alimentary canal and you're a
goner. I'm going to write to the London _Lancet_ and the New York
Academy of Sciences tonight. What shall we call 'em, Ellen? Let's
see--Ellenobes, or Ellenites, or what?"
"Oh, John, you wretch!" shrieked his wife, as she caught sight of the
tin bucket on the table. "You've got my bucket of Galveston oysters
that I bought to take to the church supper! Microbes, indeed!"
(_Houston Daily Post_, Sunday morning, November 15, 1895.)