Dr. P. H. Cronin is in Canada. He was seen, recognized and spoken to here to-day by a former Chicagoan, and in return told of his troubles, bitterly denouncing a number of Garden City people, Alexander Sullivan particularly. The missing and supposed-to-be-murdered physician seemed to be slightly deranged. C. T. Long, who for three years was intimately acquainted with Dr. Cronin in Chicago, was walking down Yonge street shortly after 11 o'clock this morning, and when opposite the Arcade came face to face with the missing Irish nationalist. He was accompanied by a man of shorter stature. "Hello, Doc; what are you doing here?" was Long's greeting. To this the doctor answered "Hello," and then pausing and drawing himself up in an injured manner, continued: "You have me at a disadvantage, sir. What do you want?"
"Why, Cronin, is it possible that you don't remember me?"
"I do not know you, sir, and shall have you handed over to the police in case you bother me further."
Having delivered himself of this the doctor turned the corner of the Arcade and quickly followed the retreating footsteps of his friend, who turned down Victoria street, and together they were soon lost in the crowd. Long informed the _Herald_ correspondent that for three years he had been intimately acquainted with Cronin while living in Chicago--in fact, employed him as his family physician and belonged to several organizations with him. He was completely dumbfounded, first at sight of him and then at his mode of treatment. Cronin was dressed in a black coat and vest, light colored pants, black silk hat, and carried a small black hand-bag in one hand and a light spring overcoat thrown over his arm. The person with him appeared to be twenty-seven or thirty years of age, and while Long cannot place him, his face seemed quite familiar. At first sight he was taken for Jack Lynch, bailiff in Judge Clifford's court, and very strongly resembled him, but as far as Long knew Lynch was unknown to Cronin. Cronin's companion was dressed in a dark suit of clothes and slouch hat. He carried nothing but a newspaper, which was afterward picked up on Victoria street and proved to be a Chicago evening newspaper of the 7th inst.