BY A PHYSICIAN'S WIFE
Years ago my husband and I got into a little wagon, and hitched it to a star, and began our journey through the world for either failure or success. Somehow we never thought of failure, because I believed in him, and he, without any vanity or egotism, believed in himself.After we had set up our Lares and Penates and begun our season of hoping and waiting, so trying to the young physician, I one day undertook to arrange his medical library. It was not large, of course, but well selected, and I remember some of the books. There were the immortal Gray's "Anatomy," well thumbed and well read; Gross and Agnew's "Surgery," J. M. DaCosta's "Physical Diagnosis," some of William Pepper's and other works of that period. They were the giants of those days. Over those tomes has grown the dust of years; the bell has