M'causland And "doc" Rose

The Adrian Press has the following:

An Ann Arbor young pill dispenser named McCausland, was engaged to marry a Miss Simmons and since getting into practice, seems to have concluded that his love ripened too early, and though that promise has been in force for nearly four years, he has written Miss Simmons, asking that the agreement be canceled and their relations be simply those of acquaintances, "nunc pro tunc" as the lawyers would say. The report is that a nurse employed at the hospital has turned the key on the love switchboard, and established a new circuit, with Miss Simmons "cut out." The young lady does not now care to marry him, but for the cruelty and injustice of holding her out of the "rising" market for the past four years she feels that she ought to have $10,000 damages and sues for that sum. Well, to keep a girl waiting and losing chances all that time was a mighty mean trick and we hope she gets the entire amount sued for. But it is worth $15,000 to get rid of such a fellow as that, and he might put in that amount as a set off.

A doughty defender of the right indeed is "Doc" Rose, the educated budge peddler of Ann Arbor. He runs one of those "genteel" saloons, where the whisky is the same smell, same vintage, same color as that which can be purchase at the Damm grog-shop or any other bar where spirits are retailed, and profits of the drinker curtailed but at an expansion on price that tends to give tone to the drink-one of those grades of liquor where a man buys a cent's worth of spirit, six cents of profit and eight cents of Rose respectability. Carrie Nation swept into his place with the impetuosity of a Kansas cyclone, but "Doc" was not in it. He even had the blinds down, the decanters out of sight, the room under process of house cleaning, and the bartender polishing mirrors and glasses. Carrie demanded to know if he, the bartender and spirit mixer was not ashamed of his business. He allowed that he was ashamed of Rose and if such she dragons as the divorced wife of a discouraged husband were to haunt saloons, he would be ashamed of the business. He, however, took the lambasting she gave him, in silence and didn't even offer her a drink. Mrs. Nation yelled to Doc's wife who was upstairs, expressed her sympathy for a woman who was bound to a man who runs a "hell-hole," and gave her advice how to manage him. Mrs. Rose smiled sweetly, and allowed that some homes were so managed that  the husband found it a hell hole to which a saloon is heaven in comparison, and that she needed no advice how to manage a husband, from a devil whose sweet Christian conduct drove a good husband into a divorce court. "Oh you don't eh? Well good day to you, sweet Rose."  "Ta ta, Mrs. Nation. So long," and the two closed the session.