11 tut j lit if t i FJ^.2fe*H^«S«*3! THE DOCTOR'S RECREATION SERIES CHARLES WELLS MOULTON General Editor VOLUME NINE .^fl ' mm *■ ^m\ mM ' ■ Bj ■ - ■ 1 : ^H ™^ ** 4Bl Br ^jj L. -. s3f ^__£P/ i| '^w^^9*% Ik ^j^^VnBjM^ V/H P Inn a I w y^ ' \Jm - 1 gA T BB^_ / CONTENTS The Charnel House Henry Vaughan Problem of Success for Young Men and How to Solve It George F. Shrady, M. D. Practical Ethics of the Physician Oliver Wendell Holmes, M. D. Notes of an Address to Medical Students Sydney Dobell Miss Black's Affinity George Horton Mr. Dooley on the Practise of Medicine Finley Peter Dunne The Etiology, Diagnosis, and Treatment of the Prevalent Epidemic of Quackery George H. Gould, A. M., M. D. According to Punch: University of London — Examination Papers The Physiology of the London Medical Student Appropriate Examination Papers; with Answers Rhoderick at Surgeon's Hall Tobias Smollett Diploma Nos Universitatas Santae Glorvina Dr. Heidegger's Experiment Nathaniel Hawthorne First Aid to the Injured W. G. Van Tassel Sutphen Nathan Bone's Skeletons Anthony Kirby Gill Miscellaneous : When Doctors Agreed The Ghost of the Dissecting Room A Ride with Death Modern Learning Exemplified A Curiosity in Medical Advertising Literature The Medical Student : The Ambulance Inverted Fables No Doubt of It A Matter of Expense Hitchcock's Tactful Friend Saves Something 111 Enough for the Present Concerning Corpuscles Many Operations How Hopkins was Soothed Why One Still Lived The Everlasting Controversy Returned the Fees Dying by Inches 431351 4 CONTENTS New Books not Needed Surgical Wit Didn't Know the Place The Female Physician At the Hospital The Brain and Spinal Cord The Mark of a Lady Lines to a Skull "Know'd What he Giv' Him" Early Practise: A Foregone Conclusion Experience Required A Case for Consultation Vital Spots A Medical Examination Indispensable Medical Ignorance It Was not Appendicitis Mortality Reduction A Practical Question A Clever Diagnosis A Sure Remedy Worries of a Doctor A Beginning Encouraging a Young One Even That Would Help The King's Disease Reversed An Improvement Noted The New Disease Timid Against Odds A Thorough Examination Saw It Clearly Ups and Downs Blind Inference Her Affliction A Matter of Taste Evidence of the Service For a Young M. D. Modern Miracles After the Medical Commencement Self-Incriminating The Wrong Kind of a Doctor X-Rays. Why he Prospered CONTENTS General Practise: Trakeyotomy Dan Imagination His Interpretation The Reason Doctors' Big Fees Prescription and Pun A Sure Cure Wise Invalid An Appeal for Speed Resigned In Other Words Fitzsimmons' Doctor Short Tether Remarkable Symptoms His Circulation all Right Frequent Doses No Damage Done A Disease that is^ Rare Had Tried Electricity Pulling Eye Teeth Doctors Knew their Business Seeing Double Dead, but in Peril Satisfactorily Arranged Two Kinds of Doctors Not to Last Long Tapped Better than Medicine Writing too Much Not Mincing Matters His Retaliation A Story of Horace Mann A Question of Average A Shrewd Reply Nothing was Right There A Complimentary Notice A Reasonable Bill The Dental Student: Satisfactory Lucky Tooth A Misunderstanding Naturally Adapted Missing the Doctor The Six Hundred •Woman Dentist Has No Mercy 6 CONTENTS The Student of Pharmacy: Curing a Cold Malarial Pronunciation A Kentucky Drug Store Easy to Prescribe for Wrong Diagnosis A Mistake A Rare Drug The Doctor Wanted Two Bottles of Refrain The Drug Clerk Unfortunate Suggestion Just as Good Beechman's Pills Drug Store Coffee The Critical Spirit Her Debt of Gratitude Disappointment Hair Restorer An Important Discovery For A Hors Trade Names A Confusion of Terms Collodion Ruling Habit Evidence of Sagacity For Himself Not to Blame A Drug Clerk's Troubles A Few Sure Cures Druggist's Queer Orders The Druggist's Revenge Repartee ILLUSTRATIONS Page The Anatomical Lecture Frontispiece The First Patient 90 Dr. Charcot's Clinic 170 The Physical Examination 241 PREFACE We claim for The Shrine of ./Esculapius that it is original in conception, and unique in execution. It is the first serious publication in book form intended as "A Recital of Various Exploits, Projects, and Experiences of the Medical Student." It will not only interest the medical student who is at present "experiencing" the "exploits," but the old practitioner as well, who will be glad to recall many "projects" of his early career here set forth. In making the selections, the editor, as usual, makes grateful acknowledgment for courtesies and advice ex- tended by doctors and laymen. He returns thanks for copy- right privileges to Harper and Brothers, Houghton, Mifflin and Company, The Century Company, George Horton, Finley Peter Dunne, Dr. George H. Gould, etc. OSWOLD SOTHENE. January 26, 1905. THE CHARNEL-HOUSE LESS me ! what damps are here ! how stiff an air ! Kelder of mists, a second fiat's care, Front'spiece o' th' grave and darkness, a display Of ruin'd man, and the disease of day, Lean, bloodless shamble, where I can descry Fragments of men, rags of anatomy, Corruption's wardrobe, the transplantive bed Of mankind, and th' exchequer of the dead ! How thou arrests my sense ! how with the sight My winter'd blood grows stiff to all delight! Torpedo to the eye ! whose least glance can Freeze our wild lusts, and rescue headlong man. Eloquent silence! able to immure An atheist's thoughts, and blast an epicure. Were I a Lucian, Nature in this dress Would make me wish a Saviour, and confess. Where are you, shoreless thoughts, vast tenter'd hope, Ambitious dreams, aims of an endless scope, Whose stretch'd excess runs on a string too high, And on the rack of self-extension die? Chameleons of state, air-monging band, Whose breath — like gunpowder — blows up a land, Come see your dissolution, and weigh What a loath'd nothing you shall be one day. As th' elements by circulation pass From one to th' other, and that which first was I so again, so 'tis with you ; the grave And Nature but complot ; what the one gave The other takes ; think, then, that in this bed There sleep the relics of as proud a head, II ia THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPlUS As stern and subtle as your own, that hath Perform'd, or forc'd as much, whose tempest-wrath Hath level'd kings with slaves, and wisely then Calm these high furies, and descend to men. Thus Cyrus tam'd the Macedon ; a tomb Check'd him, who thought the world too straight a room. Have I obey'd the powers of face, A beauty able to undo the race Of easy man ? I look but here, and straight I am inform'd, the lovely counterfeit Was but a smoother clay. That famish'd slave Beggar'd by wealth, who starves that he may save, Brings hither but his sheet ; nay, th' ostrich-man That feeds on steel and bullet, he that can Outswear his lordship, and reply as tough To a kind word, as if his tongue were buff, Is chap-fall'n here: worms without wit or fear Defy him now ; Death hath disarm'd the bear. Thus could I run o'er all the piteous score Of erring men, and having done, meet more, Their shuffled wills, abortive, vain intents, Fantastic humors, perilous ascents, False, empty honors, traitorous delights, And whatsoe'er a blind conceit invites ; But these and more which the weak vermins swell, Are couch'd in this accumulative cell, Which I could scatter ; but the grudging sun Calls home his beams, and warns me to be gone ; Day leaves me in a double night, and I Must bid farewell to my sad library. Yet with these notes — Henceforth with thought of thee I'll season all succeeding jollity, Yet damn not mirth, nor think too much is fit ; Excess hath no religion, nor wit; But should wild blood swell to a lawless strain, One check from thee shall channel it again. Henry Vaughan. PROBLEM OF SUCCESS FOR YOUNG MEN AND HOW TO SOLVE IT BY GEORGE F. SHRADY, M. D. 13 PROBLEM OF SUCCESS FOR YOUNG MEN AND HOW TO SOLVE IT The Practise of Medicine I N this age of strenuous endeavor, with its armies of well-equipped workers, even ordinary success calls for relatively high attainments. In medicine, as in every other profession, conspicuous success is necessarily limited to very few aspirants. Great oppor- tunities are comparatively few. To reach the high standard of general excellence in the medical profession is in itself a most laudable ambition. Such talent as makes the aggregate sum of lasting and sub- stantial human progress is very widely distributed. The real work that is of substantial and lasting benefit to the community at large has to be done on a mediocre level. It is just as much to be a common soldier in the ranks as to be a general that leads. We cannot all be generals. If you are a good soldier in a select crowd, and have a good reputation, that is success in itself. Many a man would rather be a private in the 7th Regiment than to be a cap- tain in most others. It was said of a soldier who had been in the battle of Waterloo that when complimented on his bravery he re- plied : "You see, there were so many of us." The honors were widely distributed, but each man was a host in himself. We may "hitch our wagon to a star," but every star is not a shooting one. A good, ordinary road horse would answer the purpose much better. There are many ministers here in good standing, doing good work, but there are only a few celebrated ones ; and so with many lawyers, artists, authors, and the like. They 16 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS all ought to be distinguished, but all do not get their dues, simply because the general level is so high. The demands cf what may be considered a general tal- ent are very great, and the majority of strugglers, by force of circumstances, must necessarily be content merely to add to the common stock. If we gain nothing more than ex- perience, it is generally paid up stock for an emergency. All opportunity is the reward of watchfulness. Experience, no matter of what kind, if it is only weighty enough, is always good ballast in a storm. If it can take a bite on the wave, the rudder has a good purchase. Hence, if a rival succeeds, study his methods. It will generally be found that work, earnest work, and absorbed interest are at the bottom of his success. If a man has an education and is careful to keep his powder dry, even if he is no better than a ragpicker, he will be a better judge of the worth of his material of trade than the one who picks up everything he sees. When greatness is thrust upon a man it is generally a misfit outer garment that sooner or later becomes conspic- uously wrinkled and shabby and has to be cast aside. Grant wore an ordinary soldier's blouse when he was a party to the surrender at Appomattox. The accidents of distinction are the tail feathers of the peacock, useful for neither flying, walking, nor singing. When his gaudy fan is folded, it trails in the dust, and when expanded, the gentlest wind throws the vain bird off his balance. Gray took twelve years to write his "Elegy," and who would not take such time for such a monument. Pay your debts to time as you go along, and if nothing more comes of it than the performance of a duty, that in itself may be the one, the main, and the only opportunity for doing your share. If each can say he did the best he could he has discharged his obligation to himself and his work. Then, to be always ready in an emergency is what fre- quently wins the battle. Emergencies come to every one, and the great question is asked, "Do you dare?" or "Will you dare?" It is for want of the right kind of pluck some- PROBLEM OF SUCCESS 17 times that men miss the one chance in their lives. The man, the gun, the game, and the aim, when in proper line, settle many a difficult problem. The principle applies in medicine, law, statesmanship, art, everything. The man is, of course, the essential element ; the gun is his fitness for the work; the aim is his concentration of power ; and the game is the opportunity. You get all these in combination, and something must result. But if one or the other misses its connection, there is an interrupted short circuit in a man's life. A little soubrette dancer ventured to say that it took her a whole year of practise, three hours daily, before she could learn to balance herself on her toes. Emerson, when he walked out, had a pad and pencil in his pocket, and when a thought occurred to him, wherever he happened to be, he jotted it down. Burns, the bard of Scotland, did it, and the path of his plow was the one to fame. Milton, the blind poet, did it. When he woke up in the night and a thought occurred to him he aroused his daughter to continue dictation for "Para- dise Lost." It is taking advantage of every little opportunity that often strikes the balance the right way. These are the real elements of success. It is catching the thought when it is on the wing. It seldom flies the same way twice. This idea of working for the love of the thing was exemplified in John Hunter, the founder of the Royal Col- lege of Surgeons. He had not a large income, and was com- pelled to work steadily at his practise. When absorbed in his grand investigations and interrupted by a patient, he would testily exclaim : "There is that confounded guinea that must be earned." He simply proved what many others have — that medicine is a grand profession, but a very poor trade. It is the glory in the work, not the mere pay that comes with it. Pecuniary success, in a comparative business sense, is certainly not one of the conspicuous rewards for the doctor. 18 THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS Wollaston, the great chemist, when he was asked to show his laboratory, took the man into a closet, pointed to a couple of tumblers, a retort, and a lamp, and said : "This is my laboratory." And yet he was the greatest discoverer of his time. It was the man with the little opportunities. The piano players and all other great performers are practising all the time. There was once a great surgeon in Philadelphia who was noted for wonderful expertness in manipulation, and he always was seen working his fingers. People thought he was peculiar, but he had a purpose in view. It was to add little by little to his skill instead of resting his hands in his lap. The question of business first and pleasure afterward is like paying the cash and knowing the exact account in the bank. This thrift in time is as valuable as thrift in money matters. Content in work is to mental energy what perfect digestion is to nutrition. It is the question with the doctor, as with every other man, "Am I doing my best ? Is my mind constantly on the subject — the aim, after all?" If so, by and by the game, such as it is, will appear, and the practise at the imaginary target will serve its purpose when the true conditions are in line. It is the hit-back also that hardens the fighter. The man who is to leap the fence with his horse must think only of the top bar, and not doubt the stability of his seat. It is a question of being prepared and having nerve enough to pull the trigger. The man, the gun, the aim, and the game. All in line with simultaneous action. He must know how to load his gun, be sure of his powder, have steadiness enough to draw the bead, and know the difference between a chipmunk and a bear. His learning must be be- hind him. That gives him confidence of victory. To succeed in the medical profession — to make a con- spicuous success in it — requires more real hard work than would be necessary in any ordinary business occupation, be- cause there are special preparations which are necessary: the education in the first place, and a good groundwork. PROBLEM OF SUCCESS 19 Very often the groundwork is covered up in the very foun- dation of the man ; you do not see his work at all until it is manifested afterward by the superstructure that is so pa- tiently and laboriously placed upon it. When it comes down to the actual qualifications neces- sary to success in medicine, a young man has a pretty hard time of it, because the standard of requirements is so high, the time for waiting is so long, and the competition is so strong that he seldom gets a good foothold in his profession before he is thirty-five or forty years of age. Then, too, there are certain legal requirements that have to be met. He not only must have his preliminary education that has to be passed on by the regents of the university before he is permitted to take his medical course, but after that the law prescribes that he shall take a four years' course of special medical preparation, and very often if he wishes to equip himself well, he has to supplement it with a hospital course of two years more. Even then he is not qualified for practise until he has passed his State examination for a legal license. Altogether that takes him until he is twenty years old at least before he gets his preliminary training. Even if he starts thus early he is twenty-six or twenty-eight before he can graduate from a medical college ; thus a young man is oftentimes past thirty or thirty-five years of age before he commences to practise. Besides this he has to work usually for five years before he can support himself even as a single man, especially if he begins his work in a city. The present standard of requirements in the medical profession is probably higher than that in any of the other learned professions, such as theology or law. Compared with the lawyer or minister, a young doctor has relatively a harder time, because he has to support himself from the start. A lawyer can go into an office and act as clerk while he is reading law, and as soon as he is admitted to the bar he can begin to practise in a small way until he is competent to take cases on his own account. 20 THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS A young minister, or ordained priest, has an oppor- tunity to get a charge at once, as soon as he graduates from the theological seminary, and that gives him his house fur- nished and rent free, and although the salary is usually small, he is sure of a living much better than a young doc- tor can hope for. A man to succeed in the medical profession must make up his mind that he is not working for the mere sake of money, but for the real pleasure of the work, that which centers in the amelioration of suffering and the saving of human life. Mere money can never pay for such service. A doctor's bill is generally the last one that is paid. It is a well-recognized fact that a great deal of valuable service is given away by the doctor without getting its equivalent. Then the doctor has a great deal of competition, not only in his own profession, where everybody is equipped for the race and each one striving to forge ahead with all the stimulus of a great reputation and fame to gain, but besides that he has the countless medical charities to con- tend against ; that is to say, he is not in a position to take up the many accident and emergency cases which the prac- titioner had in former days. Human charity is a God-like attribute, but it is grossly abused in its practise. Look at the large dispensaries and hospitals in this city to-day, and the habit that well-to-do people have of indulging in a doctor's free and willing serv- ice for charity, thereby cheating him of his legitimate fees. The purpose of these charitable institutions for the really poor is not served, because in most cases the people are not worthy objects from a charitable standpoint. In that respect the doctor in the country has a much better chance than the one in the city, who has to contend with all these handicaps. The rural practitioner, although he may attend a great many poor people for nothing, out of pure charity, makes in the aggregate a great deal more and gets more returns than the metropolitan doctor in the city who is eating up his income in large rentals and other nee- PROBLEM OF SUCCESS 21 essary expenses for the sake of being in a respectable neigh- borhood. The question is often raised, should a young physician who believes that he has a special liking of surgery, for in- stance, start in a general practise, or should he from the very beginning devote all his time and energy to this special line of work? The young physician who intends to become a specialist should most certainly start in general practise, because the proper foundation for special work is a broad and general knowledge of all the commoner diseases. The best special- ists are those who have made it the necessity or outgrowth of ordinary practise, and demonstrated their fitness for those special lines by the sure foundation which they have built. All specialism in the abstract tends to narrow effort in one particular line. The legitimate growth of specialism is out of general practise. Of course, a man must understand all about the human system before he begins to treat even a part of it. He is bound to be a better surgeon or other specialist if he has a greater practical knowledge of the general ailments of the body, and he will not get that as a rule unless he goes first into general practise. The founda- tion laid by a student in hospital service is not sufficient prep- aration for the practise of surgery or other specialty, be- cause the time allotted is too short for the purpose. If he claims the skill before he is sufficiently prepared he is apt to be more of an advocate than he is a judge of the efficacy of remedial measures. The judicial mind must be broad and weigh both sides, and a man should certainly have that judicial stamp in adopting a profession in which human happiness and human life are at stake. The man who thinks of nothing else but an operation from its abstract standpoint is not always biased on the safe side. The whole sum and substance of it is that the young medical man has a very hard time of it. There is no doubt that there is a great deal of good 23 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS. talent around, but it is so distributed that it is very hard to make a conspicuous success in any line of medical work — to make it distinctive by itself. Under present conditions the country is very well supplied with medical talent every- where — in the rural districts as well as in the city. There is so much average talent that seems to fill the bill that the necessity of having extra talent is not so apparent. It is because of such a high grade of men who have such high grade talent that there is not much chance of achieving exceptional success save by some extraordinary circum- stance. It is like a horse race where the horses are all going so fast that it does not seem that their average speed could be increased unless they aimed to fly. Now and then a great discovery is made, and it is so quickly applied that it becomes common property almost at once. Take the great discoveries of recent years : in almost every case there are five or six men engaged in the same line of thought, and they are all claiming the same discovery at the same time. All this proves that no man should go into medicine inconsiderately. He should certainly count the cost and weigh it very carefully, and be able to say: "This is the profession of my choice," to do or die, "I enter it for the love of the thing." Such a man is going to make a good practitioner, and he will succeed in the good and ordinary way. He will keep his eye on the gun all the time, and will not let any ordinary game escape him. He has his heart in the work, and everything depends on that, no matter what hindrances there may be on the outside. The poet may win his laurels, the lawyer his reputa- tion, the painter his fame, but this man must say : "I have nothing to do with these. This is my life work." Let him be contented as he goes along ; be contented in the work. There are just as many men who are born physicians, and with all the good qualities that make up a good man in that profession, as there are artists or poets or anything else. They have a natural instinct for it. PROBLEM OF SUCCESS 23 The main thing is that the man must love his profes- sion. It is this that gives him his true courage and his greatest rewards. His great success is in the quiet, humble performance of his duty, such as it b. His deeds are none the less valorous if not trumpeted by fame, but on other fields they would win many a decoration. It is the rank and file that after all settles the battle. No matter how hard one may work he cannot get too much preparation. No house that is built on stilts can last for any length of time, and it is very risky business to tuck in a foundation afterward. If a man can put in all the years he has until he is thirty in post-graduate and hospital study he will not lose much time in the end. What appears to be lost in study will be gained by the ability to work and catch up afterward. He cannot be too well prepared, because it is nothing but a life of study all the way through. Of course, every man has opportunities of some sort, but the conspicuous opportunities are very few, else we would all be generals, emperors, or kings. It is the great mediocre necessities that bring out the useful talent in a man — the man who takes his position in the rank and file and works. The successful man owes more to real work, hard work, every time and all the time, than to anything else. Every man when he goes into a profession necessarily aims high, but he should be contented for the time at least in being one of the great crowd. What is really of the most benefit to the race, as a whole, must always be within the reach of the majority of its benefactors. PRACTICAL ETHICS OF THE PHYSICIAN BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, M. D. 25 PRACTICAL ETHICS OF THE PHYSICIAN Delivered* to the Medical Graduates of the Harvard Univer- sity, at the Annual Commencement, Wednesday, March 10, 1858. G ENTLEMEN OF THE GRADUATING CLASS I It is my grateful duty to address to you a few- words in the name of the Medical Faculty, under the auspices of which you have just entered the Medical Profession. In their name I welcome you to the labors, the obligations, the honors, and the rewards which, if you are faithful, you may look for in your chosen calling. In their name I offer you the hand of fellowship, and call you henceforth brothers. These elder brethren of the same great family repeat to you the words of welcome. The wide com- munity of practitioners receives you in full communion from this moment. You are enrolled hereafter on that long list of the Healers of Men, which stretches back unbroken to the days of Heroes and Demigods, until its earliest traditions blend with the story of the brightest of the ancient Divini- ties. Once Medicine? Doctor, always Doctor Medicine?. You can unfrock a clergyman and unwed a husband, but you can never put off the title you have just won. Trusting that you will always cling to it, as it will cling to you, I shall venture to offer a few hints which you may find of use in your professional career. The first counsel I would offer is this: Form a dis- tinct plan for life, including duties to fulfil, virtues to prac- tise, powers to develop, knowledge to attain, graces to ac- quire. Circumstances may change your plan, experience may show that it requires modification, but start with it as com- plete as if the performance were sure to be the exact copy of the programme. If you reject this first piece of advice, I am ^Valedictory Address. 27 28 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS. afraid nothing else I can say will be of service. Some weak- ness of mind or of moral purpose can alone account for your trusting to impulse and circumstances. Nothing else goes on well without a plan ; neither a game of chess, nor a cam- paign, nor a manufacturing or commercial enterprize; and do you think that you can play this game of life, that you can fight this desperate battle, that you can organize this mighty enterprize, without sitting down to count the cost and fix the principles of action by which you are to be governed ? It is not likely that any of you will deliberately lay down a course of action pointing to a low end, to be reached by ignoble means. But keep a few noble models before you. For faithful life-long study of science you will find no better example than John Hunter, never satisfied until he had the pericardium of Nature open and her heart throbbing naked in his hand. For calm, large, illuminated, philosophical intellect, hallowed by every exalted trait of character, you will look in vain for a more perfect pattern than Haller. But ask your seniors who is their living model, and if they all give you the same name, then ask them why he is thus honored, and their answers will go far toward furnishing the outline of that course I would hope you may lay down and follow. Let us look, in the very brief space at our disposal, at some of those larger and lesser rules which might be sup- posed to enter as elements into the plan of a physician's life. Duty draws the great circle which includes all else within it. Of your responsibility to the Head Physician of this vast planetary ambulance or traveling hospital which we call Earth, I need say little. We reach the Creator chiefly through his creatures. Whoso gave the cup of cold water to the disciple gave it to the Master ; whoso received that Master received the Infinite Father who sent him. If performed in the right spirit, there is no higher worship than the unpurchased service of the medical priesthood. The sick man's faltered blessing reaches heaven through the PRACTICAL ETHICS OF THE PHYSICIAN 29 battered roof of his hovel before the Te Deum that rever- berates in vast cathedrals. Your duty as physicians involves the practise of every virtue and the shunning of every vice. But there are certain virtues and graces of preeminent necessity to the physician and certain vices and minor faults against which he must be particularly guarded. And first, of truth. Lying is the great temptation to which physicians are exposed. Clergymen are expected to tell such portions of truth as they think will be useful. Their danger is the supprcssio veri, rather than direct false- hood. Lawyers stand in professional and technical relations to veracity. Thus, the clerk swears a witness to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The lawyer is expected to get out of the witness not exactly the truth, but a portion of the truth, and nothing but the truth — which suits him. The fact that there are two lawyers pulling at the witness in different directions, makes it little better; the horses pulled different ways in that frightful old pun- ishment of tearing men to pieces ; so much the worse for the man. But this is an understood thing, and we do not hesi- tate to believe a lawyer — outside of the court-room. The physician, however, is not provided with a special license to say the thing which is not. He is expected to know the truth, and to be ready to tell it. Yet nothing is harder than for him always to do it. Whenever he makes an unnecessary visit, he tells a lie. Whenever he writes an unnecessary prescription, he tells a lie. It is audibly whis- pered that some of the "general practitioners," as they are called in England, who make their profit on the medicines they dispense, are too fond of giving those complicated mix- tures which can be charged at a pleasing figure in their accounts. It would be better if the patient were allowed a certain discount from his bill for every dose he took, just as children are compensated by their parents for swallowing hideous medical draughts. All false pretences whatsoever, acted or spoken; all superficial diagnoses, where the practitioner does not know 3 o THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS what he knows, or, still worse, knows that he does not know; all unwarranted prognoses and promises of cure; all claiming for treatment that which may have been owing to Nature only; all shallow excuses for the results of bad practise, are lies and nothing else. There is one safe rule which I will venture to lay down for your guide in every professional act, involving the im- mediate relation with the object of your care ; so plain that it may be sneered at as a truism, but so difficult to follow that he who has never broken it deserves canonizing better than many saints in the calendar : A physician's first duty is to his patient; his second only, to himself. All quackery reverses this principle as its fundamental axiom. Every practitioner who reverses it is a quack. A man who follows it may be ignorant, but his ignorance will often be safer than a selfish man's knowledge. You will find that this principle will not only keep you in the great highway of truth, but that if it is ever a question whether you must leave that broad path, it will serve you as a guide. A lie is a deadly poison. You have no right to give it in large or small doses for any selfish purpose con- nected with your profession, any more than for other selfish objects. But as you administer arsenic or strychnia in certain cases, without blame ; nay, as it may be your duty to give them to a patient ; are there not also cases in which the moral poison of deceit is rightly employed for a patient's welfare? So many noble-hearted and conscientious per- sons have scruples about any infraction of the absolute rule of truth, that I am willing briefly to discuss and illustrate a question which will often be presented to you hereafter. Truth in the abstract is perhaps made too much of as compared to certain other laws established by as high au- thority. If the Creator made the tree-toad so like the moss- covered bark to which it clings, and the larva of a sphinx so closely resembling the elm-leaf on which it lies, and that other larva so exquisitely like a broken twig, not only in color, but in the angle at which it stands from the branch to which it holds, with the obvious end of deceiving their PRACTICAL ETHICS OF THE PHYSICIAN 31 natural enemies, are not these examples which man may follow? The Tibboo, when he sees his enemy in the dis- tance, shrinks into a motionless heap, trusting that he may be taken for a lump of black basalt, such as is frequently met with in his native desert. The Australian, following the same instinct, crouches in such form that he may be taken for one of the burnt stumps common in his forest region. Are they not right in deceiving, or lying, to save their lives ? or would a Christian missionary forbid their saving them- selves by such a trick? If an English lady were chased by a gang of murdering and worse than murdering Sepoys, would she not have a right to cheat their pursuit by covering her- self with leaves, so as to be taken for a heap of them ? If you were starving on a wreck, would you die of hunger rather than cheat a fish out of the water by an artificial bait? If a schoolhouse were on fire, would you get the children quietly down stairs under any convenient pretense, or tell them the precise truth, and so have a rush and a score or two of them crushed to death in five minutes? These extreme cases test the question of the absolute inviolability of truth. It seems to me that no one virtue can be allowed to exclude all others, with which in this mortal state it may sometimes stand in opposition. Abso- lute justice must be tempered by mercy ; absolute truth, by the law of self-preservation, by the harmless deceits of courtesy, by the excursions of the imaginative faculty, by the exigencies of human frailty, which cannot always bear the truth in health, still less in disease. Truth is the breath of life to human society. It is the food of the immortal spirit. Yet a single word of it may kill a man as suddenly as a drop of prussic acid. An old gentleman was sitting at table when the news that Napo- leon had returned from Elba was told him. He started up, repeated a line from a French play, which may thus be Englished, — The fatal secret is at length revealed, and fell senseless in apoplexy. You remember the story 32 THE SHRINE OF /ESCULAPIUS of the old man who expired on hearing that his sons were crowned at the Olympic games. A worthy inhabitant of a village of New Hampshire fell dead on hearing that he was chosen town clerk. I think the physician may, in extreme cases, deal with truth as he does with food, for the sake of his patient's welfare or existence. He may partly or wholly with- hold it, or, under certain circumstances, medicate it with the deadly poison of honest fraud. He must often look the cheerfulness he cannot feel, and encourage the hope he can- not confidently share. He must sometimes conceal and sometimes disguise a truth which it would be perilous or fatal to speak out. I will tell you two stories to fix these remarks in your memory. When I was a boy, a grim old doctor in a neigh- boring town was struck down and crushed by a loaded sledge. He got up, staggered a few paces, fell, and died. He had been in attendance upon an ancient lady, a connec- tion of my own, who at that moment was lying in a most critical condition. The news of the accident reached her, but not its fatal character. Presently the minister of the parish came in, and a brief conversation like this followed: "Is the Doctor badly hurt?" "Yes ; badly." "Does he suf- fer much?" "He does not; he is easy." And so the old gentlewoman blessed God and went off to sleep ; to learn the whole story at a fitter and safer moment. I know the min- ister was a man of truth, and I think he showed himself in this instance a man of wisdom. Of the great caution with which truth must often be handled, I cannot give you a better illustration than the following from my own experience. A young man, accom- panied by his young wife, came from a distant place, and sent for me to see him at his hotel. He wanted his chest examined, he told me. Did he wish to be informed of what I might discover? He did. I made the ante-mortem au- topsy desired. Tubercles ; cavities ; disease in full blast ; death waiting at the door. I did not say this, of course, but waited for his question. "Are there any tubercles?" he PRACTICAL ETHICS OF THE PHYSICIAN 33 asked presently. "Yes ; there are." There was silence for a brief space, and then, like Esau, he lifted up his voice and wept; he cried with a great and exceeding bitter cry, and then the twain, husband and wife, with loud ululation and passionate wringing of hands, shrieked in wild chorus like the keeners of an Irish funeral, and would not be soothed or comforted. The fool! He had brought a letter from his physician, warning me not to give an opinion to the patient himself, but write it to him, the medical adviser, and this letter the patient had kept back, determined to have my opinion from my own lips, not doubting that it would be favorable. In six weeks he was dead, and I never questioned that his own folly and my telling him the naked truth killed him before his time. If the physician, then, is ever authorized to tamper with truth for the good of those whose lives are intrusted to him, you see how his moral sense may become endangered. Plain speaking, with plenty of discreet silence, is the rule ; but read the story of the wife of Caecinna Paetus, with her sick husband and dead child, in the letters of Pliny the Younger (Lib. ill. xvi.) and that of good King David's faithful wife Michal, how she cheated Saul's cut-throats (1 Samuel xix. 13), before you proclaim that homicide is always better than vericide. If you can avoid this most easily besetting sin of false- hood to which your profession offers such peculiar tempta- tions and for which it affords such facilities, I can hardly fear that the closely related virtues which cling to truth, honesty, and fidelity to those who trust you, will be wanting to your character. That you must be temperate, so that you can be masters of your faculties at all times ; that you must be pure, so that you shall pass the sacred barriers of the family circle, open to you as to none other of all the outside world, without polluting its sanctuary by your presence, it is, I think, need- less for me to urge. Charity is the eminent virtue of the medical profession. Show me the garret or the cellar which its messengers do not 34 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS penetrate; tell me of the pestilence which its heroes have not braved in their errands of mercy ; name to me the young practitioner who is not ready to be the servant of servants in the cause of humanity, or the old one whose counsel is not ready for him in his perplexities, and I will expatiate upon the claims of a virtue which I am content to leave you to learn from those who have gone before you, and whose foot- prints you will find in the path to every haunt of stricken humanity. But there are lesser virtues, with their corresponding failings, which will bear a few words of counsel. First, then, of that honorable reserve with reference to the history of his patient, which should belong to every practitioner. No high-minded or even well-bred man can ever forget it; yet men who might be supposed both high- minded and well-bred have been known habitually to violate its sacred law. As a breach of trust, it demands the sternest sentence which can be pronounced on the offense of a faith- less agent. As a mark of vanity and egotism, there is nothing more characteristic than to be always babbling about one's patients, and nothing brings a man an ampler return of contempt among his fellows. But as this kind of talk is often intended to prove a man's responsibility by showing that he attends rich or great people, and as this implies that a medical man needs some contact of the kind to give him position, it breaks the next rule I shall give you, and must be stigmatized as leze-majesty toward the Divine Art of Healing. This next rule I proclaim in no hesitating accents: Respect your own profession! If Sir Astley Cooper was ever called to let off the impure ichor from the bloated limbs of George the Fourth, it was the King who was honored by the visit, and not the Surgeon. If you do not feel as you cross the millionaire's threshold that your Art is nobler than his palace, the footman who lets you in is your fitting com- panion, and not his master. Respect your profession, and you will not chatter about your "patrons," thinking to gild yourselves by rubbing against wealth and splendor. Be a PRACTICAL ETHICS OF THE PHYSICIAN 35 little proud, — it will not hurt you ; and remember that it de- pends on how the profession bears itself whether its mem- bers are the peers of the highest, or the barely tolerated operatives of society, like those Egyptian dissectors, hired to use their ignoble implements, and then chased from the house where they had exercised their craft, followed by curses and volleys of stones. The Father of your Art treated with a Monarch as his equal. But the Barber-Sur- geons' Hall is still standing in London. You may hold yourselves fit for the palaces of princes, or you may creep back to the Hall of the Barber-Surgeons, just as you like. Richard Wiseman, who believed that a rotten old king with the corona veneris encircling his forehead with its copper diadem, could cure scrofula by laying his finger on its sub- jects—Richard Wiseman, one of the lights of the profession in his time, spoke about giving his patients over to his "servants" to be dressed after an operation. We do not count the young physician or the medical student as of menial condition, though in the noble humility of science to which all things are clean, or of that "entire affection" which, as Spencer tells us, "hath nicer hands," they stoop to offices which the white-gloved waiter would shrink from performing. It is not here, certainly, where John Brooks— not without urgent solicitation from lips which still retain their impassioned energy— was taken from his quiet country rides, to hold the helm of our Imperial State; not here, where Joseph Warren left the bedside of his patients to fall on the smoking breastwork of yonder summit, dragging with him, as he fell, the curtain that hung before the grandest drama ever acted on the stage of time,— not here that the Healer of Men is to be looked down upon from any pedestal of power or opulence! If you respect your profession as you ought, you will respect all honorable practitioners in this honored calling. And respecting them and yourselves, you will beware of all degrading jealousies, and despise every unfair art which may promise to raise you at the expense of a rival. How hard it is not to undervalue those who are hotly competing 36 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS with us for the prizes of life ! In every great crisis our in- stincts are apt suddenly to rise upon us, and in these ex- citing struggles we are liable to be seized by that passion which led the fiery race-horse, in the height of a desperate contest, to catch his rival with his teeth as he passed, and hold him back from the goal by which a few strides would have borne him. But for the condemnation of this sin I must turn you over to the tenth commandment, which, in its last general clause, unquestionably contains this special rule for physicians : Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's patients. You can hardly cultivate any sturdy root of virtue but it will bear the leaves and flowers of some natural grace or other. If you are always fair to your professional brethren, you will almost of necessity encourage those habits of courtesy in your intercourse with them which are the breath- ing organs and the blossoms of the virtue from which they spring. And now let me add various suggestions relating to matters of conduct which I cannot but think may influence your course, and contribute to your success and happiness. I will state them more or less concisely as they seem to re- quire, but I shall utter them magisterially, for the place in which I stand allows me to speak with a certain authority. Avoid all habits that tend to make you unwilling to go wherever you are wanted at any time. No over-feeding or drinking or narcotic must fasten a ball and chain to your ankle. Semper paratus is the only motto for a physician ! The necessity of punctuality is generally well under- stood by the profession in cities. In the country it is not unusual to observe a kind of testudineous torpor of motion, common to both man and beast, and which can hardly fail to reach the medical practitioner. Punctuality is so im- portant, in consultations especially, to the patient as well as the practitioner, that nothing can excuse the want of it, — not even having nothing to do, — for the busiest people, as every- body knows, are the most punctual. There is another pre- cept which I borrow from my wise friend and venerated PRACTICAL ETHICS OF THE PHYSICIAN 37 instructor, the Emeritus Professor of Theory and Practise ; and you may be very sure that he never laid down a rule he did not keep himself. Endeavor always to make your visit to a patient at the same regular time, when he expects you. You will save him a great deal of fretting, and occa- sionally prevent his sending for your rival when he has got tired of waiting for you. Your conduct in the sick-room, in conversation with the patient or his friends, is a matter of very great im- portance to their welfare and to your own reputation. You remember the ancient surgical precept, — Tuto, cito, jucunde. I will venture to write a parallel precept under it, for the manner in which a medical practitioner shall operate with his tongue; a much more dangerous instrument than the scalpel or the bistoury. Breviter, suaviter, cante. Say not too much, speak it gently, and guard it cautiously. Always remember that words used before patients or their friends are like coppers given to children ; you think little of them, but the children count them over and over and over, make all conceivable imaginary uses of them, and very likely change them into something or other which makes them sick, and causes you to be sent for to clean out the stomach you have so unwittingly filled with trash ; a task not so easy as it was to give them the means of filling it. The forming of a diagnosis, the utterance of a prog- nosis, and the laying down of a plan of treatment, all de- mand certain particular cautions. You must learn them by your mistakes, it may be feared, but there are a few hints which you may not be the worse for hearing. Sooner or later, everybody is tripped up in forming a diagnosis. I saw Velpeau tie one of the carotid arteries for a supposed aneurism, which was only a little harmless tumor, and kill his patient. Mr. Dease of Dublin was more fortunate in a case which he boldly declared an abscess, while others thought it an aneurism. He thrust a lancet into it, and proved himself in the right. Soon after he made another similar diagnosis. He thrust in his lancet as be- fore, and out gushed the patient's blood and his life with ■d^dfif;-! 38 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS it. The next morning Mr. Dease was found dead and float- ing in his own blood. He had divided the femoral artery. The same caution that the surgeon must exercise in his ex- amination of external diseases, the physician must carry into all his physical explorations. If the one can be cheated by an external swelling, the other may be deceived by an internal disease. Be very careful; be very slow; be very modest in the presence of Nature. One special caution let me add. If you are ever so accurate in your physical ex- plorations, do not rely too much upon your results. Given fifty men with a certain fixed amount of organic disease, twenty may die, twenty may linger indefinitely, and ten may never know they have anything the matter with them. I think you will pardon my saying that I have known some- thing of the arts of direct exploration, though I wrote a youthful essay on them, which, of course, is liable to be con- sidered a presumption to the contrary. I would not, there- fore, undervalue them, but I will say that a diagnosis which maps out the physical condition ever so accurately, is, in a large proportion of cases, of less consequence than the opinion of a sensible man of experience, founded on the history of the disease, though he has never seen the patient. And this leads me to speak of prognosis and its fallacies. I have doomed people, and seen others doom them, over and over again, on the strength of physical signs, and they have lived in the most contumacious and scientifically unjustifi- able manner as long as they lived, and some of them are living still. I see two men in the street very often who were both as good as dead in the opinion of all who saw them in their extremity. People will insist on living, some- times, though manifestly moribund. In Dr. Elder's "Life of Kane" you will find a case of this sort, told by Dr. Kane himself. The captain of a ship was dying of scurvy, but the crew mutinied, and he gave up dying for the present to take care of them. An old lady in this city, near her end, got a little vexed about a proposed change in her will ; made up her mind not to die just then ; ordered a coach ; was driven twenty miles to the house of a relative, and lived four PRACTICAL ETHICS OF THE PHYSICIAN 39 years longer. Cotton Mather tells some good stories which he picked up in his experience, or out of his books, showing the unstable equilibrium of prognosis. Simon Stone was shot in nine places and, as he lay for dead, the Indians made two hacks with a hatchet to cut his head off. He got well, how- ever, and was a lusty fellow in Cotton Mather's time. Jabez Musgrove was shot with a bullet which went in at his ear and came out at his eye on the other side. A couple of bullets went through his body also. Jabez got well, however, and lived many years. Percontra, Colonel Rossiter, cracking a plum-stone with his teeth, broke a tooth and lost his life. We have seen physicians dying, like Spigelius, from a scratch; and a man who had had a crowbar shot through his head alive and well. These extreme cases are warnings. But you can never be too cautious in your prognosis, in the view of the great uncertainty of the course of any dis- ease not long watched, and the many unexpected turns it may take. I think I am not the first to utter the following caution : Beware how you take away hope from any human being. Nothing is clearer than that the merciful Creator intends to blind most people as they pass down into the dark valley. Without very good reasons, temporal or spiritual, we should not interfere with his kind arrangements. It is the height of cruelty and the extreme of impertinence to tell your patient he must die, except you are sure that he wishes to know it, or that there is some particular cause for his know- ing it. I should be especially unwilling to tell a child that it could not recover ; if the theologians think it necessary, let them take the responsibility. God leads it by the hand to the edge of the precipice in happy unconsciousness, and I would not open its eyes to what He wisely conceals. Having settled the caution methods to be pursued in deciding what a disease is, and what its course is to be ; hav- ing considered how much of your knowledge or belief is to be told, and to whom it is to be imparted, the whole question of treatment remains to be reduced to system. It is not a pleasant thing to find that one has killed a 40 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS patient by a slip of the pen. I am afraid our barbarous method of writing prescriptions in what is sometimes fancifully called Latin, and with the old astrological sign of Jupiter at the head of them to bring good luck, may have helped to swell the list of casualties. We understand why plants and minerals should have technical names, but I am much disposed to think that good plain English, written out at full length, is good enough for the practical physician's use. Why should I employ the language of Celsus? He commonly used none but his own. However, if we must use a dead language, and symbols which are not only dead but damned by all sound theology, let us be very careful in form- ing those medical quavers and semiquavers that stand for ounces and drachms, and all our other enlightened hiero- glyphics. One other rule I may venture to give, forced upon me by my own experience : After writing a receipt, make it an invariable rule to read it over, not mechanically, but with all your faculties wide awake. One sometimes writes a prescription as if his hand were guided by a medium, — automatically, as the hind-legs of a water-beetle strike out in the water after they are separated from the rest of him. If all of you will follow the rule I have given, sooner or later some one among you will very probably find himself the author of a homicidal document, which but for this precaution might have carried out its intentions. With regard to the exhibition of drugs as a part of your medical treatment, the golden rule is, be sparing. Many remedies you give would make a well person so ill that he would send for you at once if he had taken one of your doses accidentally. It is not quite fair to give such things to a sick man, unless it is clear that they will do more good than the very considerable harm you know they will cause. Be very gracious with children especially. I have seen old men shiver at the recollection of the rhubarb and jalap of infancy. You may depend upon it that half the success of Homeopathy is due to the sweet peace it has brought into the nursery. Between the gurgling down of loathsome mixtures and the saccharine deliquescence of a PRACTICAL ETHICS OF THE PHYSICIAN 41 minute globule, what tender mother could for a moment hesitate. Let me add one other hint which I believe will approve itself on trial. After proper experience of the most ap- proved forms of remedies, or of such as you shall yourselves select and combine, make out your own brief list of real every-day prescriptions, and do not fall into the habit of those extemporaneous fancy-combinations, which amuse the physician more than they profit the patient. Once more: if you give medicine, do it in a manly way, and not in half doses, hacking but not chopping at the stem of the deadly- fruited tree you would bring down. Remember this, too: that although remedy may often be combined advantage- ously, the difficulty of estimating the effects of a prescrip- tion is as the square of the number of its ingredients. The deeper you wade in polypharmacy, the less you see of the ground on which you stand. It is time to bring these hurried and crowded remarks to a close. Reject what in them is false, examine what is doubtful, remember what is true ; and so, God bless you, gen- tlemen, and — Farewell! NOTES OF AN ADDRESS TO MEDICAL STUDENTS BY SYDNEY DOBELL 43 NOTES OF AN ADDRESS TO MEDICAL STUDENTS OU have graduated — literally, you have taken steps. But what steps? Steps on that Jacob's ladder of human improvement whose base rests on earth, indeed, but whose top should be in heaven. Let the success that has attended you in these first stairs of the ascent be the stimulus to such a noble ambition as shall not rest till the highest rundle be gained. The active and individual life of each of you may be said to commence from to-day. I wish, therefore, to speak briefly of the three principal facts which make up the prac- tical life of every individual in the civilized community: his social position, his pecuniary resources, and his private character. On each of these I shall say a word. First, social position. At a time when the Continental world is divided into two great contending parties, repre- senting the opposite extremes of opinion — the one crying frantically for Liberte, Egalite, and the other sworn to up- hold a system of conventional and unreal distinctions — you are about to occupy a peculiar and very interesting place. You — Medicines Doctores — are going out, a titled few, into the midst of the untitled many ; and you have received your honorable titles in a University whose motto is, Pal- man qui meruit ferat. Let your future life ana conversation be in keeping with this commencement. Let it be yours to show, on the one hand, that rank is natural and inherent in mankind, that human society can only healthily exist by a due and happy ordination of degrees ; but to vindicate, on the other hand, the great irresistible truth, that title should be the outward sign of inward superiority, that dignity in name should be the mere index of dignity in fact, and that social distinctions are then only just and venerable when those who bear them 45 46 THE SHRINE OF yESCULAPIUS are of Nature's aristocracy — "nobles," in the words of a great Scotchman, spoken of your Covenanting forefathers — nobles by right of an earlier creation ; priests, by the imposi- tion of a mightier Hand. With regard to pecuniary resources, the situation of the physician is so special and so important that it becomes me to speak and you to think upon it with no ordinary atten- tion. The whole monetary business of the physician is, by necessity, of an exceptional kind. On the ordinary trans- action of the market-place the commodity transferred to the buyer bears some calculable proportion to the price received by the seller. But it is the quality of purely intellectual labor that it admits of no such bargain and sale. You can- not pay the author "whose thoughts" — in the phrase of our Laureate — "enrich the blood of the world" ; you cannot pay the advocate who wins you your inheritance or vindicates your fame ; you cannot pay the physician who steps between you and the grave, or snatches a beloved from the open jaws of death, or restores to a faint and fading life the health that gives vigor to duty and zest to enjoyment. In all these cases the greatest monetary return that can be made by the re- cipient of an incalculable benefit is no more than an acknowl- edgment of its receipt, a recognition of a debt that can never be paid. Let this fact have its due effect on the mind of every one of you. Remember that, in its sphere, commerce is noble, honorable, and beneficent ; but that the spirit which is to animate you is a spirit higher than the commercial. The calculations which adjust the commodity given to the price received are not those on which you are now going forth to distribute your science, your talents, and your sympathies. You will show your consciousness that what you impart is inestimable by forbidding yourselves to enter- tain the very notion of an estimate. Whatever your hand finds to do will be done with your might. While in other departments of industry the quality of the workmanship is in proportion to the remuneration of the workman, it is the pride of the physician to emulate the operations of the great optimist — Nature — and never to do less than his best. It AN ADDRESS TO MEDICAL STUDENTS 47 is his divine privilege to imitate that "Good Physician" who gave "without money and without price," and to bestow on the poor man for his thanks and the rich man for his fee the same deepest learning, the same highest skill, and the same most excellent patience. If it be "more blessed to give than to receive," how favored his function who gives what can never be paid ! how God-like his vocation whose life is one impartial benefi- cence — who causes the sun of his cheering influence to shine upon the evil and the good, and sends his healing rain upon the just and the unjust! I am now speaking to you — Medicine? Doctores — and pointing out your duties. If I were addressing the world at large, I should perhaps have occasion to descant as em- phatically upon the duties of the patient to the doctor as I have now done on those of the doctor to the patient. Or, perhaps, I should rather say in each case, on the duties that every man owes to himself and to right. Which leads me to the third element in your public lives, your private characters. And leaving the more solemn aspects of the subject, and dealing with it professionally, I recognize as the first of scientific maxims the great moral precept: Physician, heal thyself. Omitting those higher considerations, which are, nevertheless, peculiarly imperative on those whose daily duties are in the house of affliction and by the bed of death, and who, by the specialties of their position will have to enter more than other men into the secrets, sorrows, and temptations of suffering humanity, and taking my standpoint on the lower levels of science, I find that the moral excellence which religion demands is the highest guarantee of philosophical success. "To do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly," is the ethics at once of science and religion. The just man, whose soul is itself in constant equilibrium), will best perceive the ex- quisite justice of nature, and understand those fine compen- sations by which material stability is balanced and main- tained. He who is himself merciful is best prepared to ap- preciate that atmosphere of mercy which surrounds the solid 48 THE SHRINE OF JESCULAPIUS necessities and harder provisions to creation, to detect the defensive contrivance that sheathes an operative function, to observe the restorative powers which accompany the sus- ceptibility to disease, and to recognize — in all that ample variety which science reveals to the eye attempered to re- ceive it — "the silent magnanimity of Nature." And the humility of the Christian is not less valuable in the hospital, the class-room, or the study, than in the common paths of life. The first condition of real success in any natural science is, that it is approached devoutly, in the attitude not of the dogmatist but of the disciple. The great secret of the modern attainments and the ancient failures in these scien- tific fields, is the fact that we are humble and they were proud. Nature — like Falstaff — will not "give reason on com- pulsion." Ancient philosophy came to facts, and squared them on that bed of Procrustes — an apriori theory. Modern philosophy is thankful for the facts, and waits till they make a bed for themselves. The one "called spirits from the vasty deep," the other was content to analyze water and in- quire the causes of the tides. The one sought, as a master, to "bind the sweet influences of Pleiades and loose the bands of Orion," the other was satisfied, as a pupil, to wait upon courses of the stars. The one launched the thunder-bolt from the hand of an arbitrary Jove, and strove to avert its terrors by the hecatomb and the human sacrifice ; the other sent a child's kite into the clouds and held the lightning in a woman's silken thread. Yet the one left science an empty boast, a brilliant sophism, an ambitious superstition ; and the other traverses the earth with the strength of Titans and the pace of the once-worshiped winds, measures and weighs the planets that were held divine, adds new universes to the empire of intelligence, passes on its electric wings the magic messenger of Prospero, and unites in bodily inter- course or mental communion the most distant families of man. In a word, the dispensations that govern us are con- sistent with themselves ; and he who would excel in the in- vestigation of Nature will find his best apprenticeship in the AN ADDRESS TO MEDICAL STUDENTS 4g School of Revelation. The subject of his study is a produc- tion of the Divine Essence, and no man will understand it less for approaching the character of the Divine. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God" ; and the great Canon is of universal application whether we would behold Him in the cosmos without or the microcosm within. ****** We have, as it were, studied geography together; you are now going on your travels upon the face of the real world. The marks on the map stand for very stern realities. Hills, high and difficult — but then what a prospect! Rivers, dangerous and deep — but then how fertilizing! Roads, long and weary — but leading to what gorgeous cities ! — And trod with what sweet companions ! We have gone — as it were — through the grammar and vocabulary — and you are now to speak and hear the living language. Those of you who have been in foreign lands can testify to the seriousness of the task, and that the well- learned syntax of the desk or the class-room is but too often at fault in the ten thousand quick necessities of daily cir- cumstances. But then how delightful the sound of the spoken tongue! How full of new meanings and interests! How warm with human passions! How sacred — (it may be) — with Divine Intelligence! May those travels, guided by the science you take hence, be fruitful to yourselves and beneficial to mankind ! May that language learned at the knees of Alma Mater be the mother-tongue of truth and goodness ! We have spent three years together in military discipline and you have practised yourselves thoroughly in the use of weapons. You are now about to enter upon the seas and fields of practical duty, and to reduce the Cronstadts and Sebastopols of actual human ill. Remember that the battle of life is as much above your quiet exercises within these peaceful walls, as Trafalgar above the sham fight at Southampton! and that all the learning, talent, virtue, and courage of the greatest and the best among you will not be too much to bear the flag of science triumphant, and prove yourselves worthy of those 50 THE SHRINE OF yESCULAFIUS gallant predecessors, who placed it in the van of the world. I am confident that while our soldiers and sailors in the North and in the East are shedding their blood in the cause of enlightenment, and winning for their country that proudest title of a free nation, "the stay of the weak and the friend of the oppressed," you, in other but not less glorious contests, will as faithfully uphold the honor of the British name. Recollecting that, as "Peace hath her victories as well as War," in either conflict "England expects every man to do his duty," and all worldly prudence and all true re- ligion are summed up in that saying of the great Christian warrior : . "Trust in God, and keep your powder dry !" MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY BY GEORGE HORTON 5i MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY A STUDY IN IDEAL SURGERY HE saw him first at Everybody's Church, whither he had been invited to read a paper on "Walt Whitman," in the temporary absence of the pastor, the Reverend Gryffith Llewellyn Smythe. His name was Frank Lounsberry and he bore a general resemblance to William Jennings Bryan. His forehead was high, and the semicircular bald space at the left, where he parted his hair, gave him an added effect of intellectuality. The few tenuous, silvery hairs which grew there reminded one of the device by which landscape gardeners set out slen- der poplars in a city yard, artistically transforming a small inclosure into a nobleman's park. He was clean-shaven and, as in the case of most eloquent men, his mouth was large. His upper lip was thin and extremely flexible, com- ing to a point, suggestive of prehensile powers in some re- mote quadruped ancestor. Frequent shaving of a stiff and aggressive mustache had left the lip minutely tented with black hirsute roots, that, pushing up from beneath the skin, gave it a bluish cast. His nose was large, the nostrils thin. He appeared in the pulpit in a long Prince Albert coat and a low turn-down collar. The Reverend Louisa Bradford introduced him. Her collar was very high — "the limit," as a slangy street urchin would have described it — and its sharp points held her plump chin well in the air. She wore a narrow four-in-hand tie, and her curly brown locks were cut short and parted well on the side. She opened the exercises by praying for the fol- lowers of Mohammed, Confucius, Buddha, Christ, "and all other inspired teachers." Her prayer was eloquent, but on the whole she resembled the mixed beings of ancient fable, 53 54 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS such as mermaids and centaurs ; for she was masquerading as a man from the pulpit up, but she had a kissable mouth that suggested skirts, and French-heeled shoes. After the prayer, she explained: "During the absence of our beloved pastor, this pulpit will be filled by distinguished members of the bar, and of the medical and other learned professions. The committee will endeavor to compensate for our temporary deprivation by securing the services of genuine leaders of thought, who will discuss pregnant questions of literature, art, politics, sociology. May the blessing of God be diffused abundantly upon these gatherings ! May He lead us, through them, a little deeper into that white light of reason in which He eternally abides! To-day Mr. Frank Lounsberry, of the Chicago bar, will address us upon the subject, 'Walt Whit- man.' " Mr. Lounsberry arose, cleared his throat and laid his manuscript upon the lectern. Then he took a sip of water and looked impressively over the audience for the full space of a minute. The house was nearly full, but the one face, of all those turned curiously toward him, that he really saw was that of a most unattractive little woman who wore a cheap hat of blue felt, trimmed with a huge, blue bow and one stiff chicken feather. The face was round and unnaturally red. In that garden of faces it seemed a flower redder than all the rest — a peony, for in- stance. This, and the insistent eagerness of the eyes, were the two things about it that most impressed Mr. Louns- berry. In fact, that one countenance drew his gaze when- ever he looked up, much as points of light or little whirling devices rivet the attention of hypnotic subjects. The thing became annoying at last. Before he had got half through with his paper, he grew conscious of the eyes while his own were fixed upon the typewritten lines and he began to feel irresistibly impelled to glance up and satisfy himself if the woman were still regarding him with the same intensity. Once he fancied that she smiled faintly, and he MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY 55 found himself racking his brain as to whether he had ever met her or had seen her anywhere before. Mr. Lounsberry, though happily married and a proud and exemplary husband and father, was what is known as a "freethinker." He believed, or thought he did, the Koran and the teachings of Buddha as fully inspired as the Bible, and he regarded the marriage contract simply as a make- shift of our civilization, without the least element of sacred- ness "If my wife should prefer another man to me," he said often, "I should tell her: 'You are as free as air.' This making people live together when they no longer desire to is the crowning mistake of the twenty-first century— a mis- take that will be righted before the morning of a new cen- tury dawns. It is a refined barbarism that makes the tor- tures of the Inquisition seem merciful. Talk about the necessity of stricter marriage laws! Freer divorce laws are what we need. My wife and I live together in happiness because we love each other— because we are congenial." The promulgation of these doctrines before various minor women's clubs had given Mr. Lounsberry consider- able standing as a prophet. At the close of the services in Everybody's Church, a bevy of ladies and of those colorless men who hang upon the skirts of strong-minded women, gathered about the essayist and fairly overwhelmed him with adulation and hero-worship. Many questions were asked, to all of which he replied with assurance and spontaneity, for he was used to this sort of thing and enjoyed it. "Shakespeare, Omar Khayyam, Whitman— these were the three greatest poets of all time," he declared, "the three Himalayas of poetic thought," and the ladies sighed in rapt admiration at the truth of the statement and the sublimity of the metaphor. The little woman with the red countenance pressed up to him. She wore a cloth coat buttoned tightly about her plump bust, and carried an umbrella by the middle in her 56 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS right hand, the crook forward. She stood up so straight that her face seemed set upon the top of her head. "Your paper was so refreshing!" she gushed. "But would you not add Browning to your list of great poets?" Mr. Lounsberry pursed up his lips, as he looked down upon the human peony, with a deprecating, benignant smile. "Browning is but an infant compared to Whitman," he declared. "Whitman is a giant of courage. He dared to say what he thought. Courage is the thing that is going to redeem poor, cringing humanity. How shall we be gods unless we dare to say and do ? The sublimest conception in pagan literature is that of Ajax defying the lightning," and he shook his crumpled manuscript above the field of nodding bonnets as if it were a sheaf of captured thunderbolts. Miss Cecile Black — for that was the little lady's name — felt rebuked, she did not know exactly why, and she went home carrying the impression that Mr. Lounsberry was a sort of modern Ajax, a hero of godlike intellect and courage. He repeated his paper three times within the month — at the Quillwomen's Club, at the Garden City Club, and the Female Disciples of Schopenhauer. On each occasion Miss Black was present, and the reader began to regard as in- evitable that round, red face, and the cheap bonnet with its blue ribbons and single hen's feather, as uncompromisingly straight as her back. She seemed unable to get enough of Walt Whitman, and she was sure to appear among the circle of admirers after each reading with some question. On one occasion she asked Mr. Lounsberry: "Which do you think the greatest of all Whitman's poems ?" and on another : "Why did Whitman not write his poems like other poets — like Tennyson, for instance, in rhyme and meter?" "Ah, there you see his sublime disregard of convention- ality !" was the answer. "Tie such an intellect as that down with the cords of rhyme and meter? You might as well try to bind Samson with a silken thread. Does God regard fixed rules of architecture in building the mountains ?" MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY 57 The lawyer little dreamed how Miss Black studied over her questions, to make them original and sensible. In less than two months after first seeing him, Miss Black became convinced that Mr. Lounsberry was her affin- ity, and she so informed her most intimate friend, Miss Julia Ammon, with whom she took her lunch each day at the Pure Food Restaurant on Washington Street. Both of these ladies were confirmed faddists. They be- lieved in everything that was at all out of the ordinary: faith healing, vegetarianism, osteopathy, spiritualism, palm- istry. Their little minds ran into any open fold with the eagerness of bewildered sheep; and the mere fact that a doctrine was new or unusual convinced them that it was "advanced." Miss Ammon was a tall, painfully thin lady, with a pronounced mustache and so many freckles that her face seemed to have been sprinkled with red pepper. She con- ducted a "beauty" department on a morning paper, while Miss Black officiated as stenographer and accountant for an Old Book shop on Madison Street. "I have tried mental telepathy on him, Julia," whispered the little woman, over a dish of grape nuts and a Roosevelt sausage. "I have looked into his eyes and have said to myself, over and over: 'You are my affinity; you are my affinity,' and his great, splendid, yearning eyes have answered mine, 'Yes, yes.' It is a marriage of souls, Julia, more sacred and lasting than any earthly marriage can be." "Have you talked with him about it?" asked Julia. "No. It is not necessary. I probably never shall. He knows and I know. Such a subject is too sacred for mere human speech. When we meet in the spirit world, we shall know all about it, Julia." By one of those strange coincidences which are largely responsible for the belief in mental telepathy, Mr. Louns- berry was talking to his wife at that very moment about Miss Black. "I'm haunted," he declared, as he helped his son John to a second liberal portion of roast beef. 58 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS "Haunted?" exclaimed Mrs. Lounsberry. "Why, what on earth do you mean?" "Why, everywhere I go, I am confronted by the most extraordinary little creature — a woman with a face as round as an orange and about the same color, too. She seems to be following me about the city to the different clubs and places where I read my paper on Whitman." "Father's made a mash ! Father's made a mash !" cried William, the second boy, irreverently. The great man grinned sheepishly. "William !" said the mother sternly, and the boy looked frightened. He did not want to be sent away from the table before the pudding, and his mother was the sole arbiter of destinies in that house. Mrs. Lounsberry was a domestic woman, with "no non- sense about her." She was a member of the Presbyterian church and had brought her husband ten thousand dollars. "Sometimes I have thought as William does," sighed Mr. Lounsberry. "But, on the whole, I am inclined to think that she is a Whitman crank. I guess I'll have to change my subject — get up that paper on 'The Anna Kare- nina Type in Modern Fiction,' that I have been thinking about." Mrs. Lounsberry was greatly impressed by her hus- band's literary labors. She had expected him to do great things when she gave herself and her ten thousand dollars to him. "That ought to be very interesting," she assented, "but I fear that your orange-faced woman will follow you just the same. All brilliant men have a lot of silly women fol- lowing them around." That evening Mr. Lounsberry attended a political meet- ing, where he led with great spirit and success a defection against the machine. On his way home he was naming to a friend three men who seemed most suitable to him as members of a committee. "Sykes," he repeated for the fourth time, "Sykes, Cor- bin, and Van Ben — " At that moment he was hit on the MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY 59 head by a club in the hands of an unknown man, who darted down an alley and disappeared. He was brought home unconscious, his hair matted with blood. Two versions of the assault were given in the next morning's papers. Some said that the attack had been in- stigated by political opponents ; others, that it was the work of footpads, with whom the city is at all times infested. Mrs. Lounsberry put her husband to bed and carefully washed his face and head with warm water. Then she kissed him and sat down beside him. After a few moments he opened his eyes and she asked, anxiously : "Do you know me, Frank?" "Of course," he replied, smiling faintly and putting his arm around her neck. "Thank God!" she laughed, and a tear dropped upon the pillow. "You'll be all right in a day or two." Then she went briskly about her duties, showing no other sign of weakness. The very next morning Mr. Lounsberry arose, ate a hearty breakfast and went to his office. His wife kissed him more tenderly than usual at the moment of departure, and was greatly impressed by his manliness in making so little of a serious shock. She also took pride in the fact that he opened that afternoon a suit in which he had been retained, and that he conducted it for several days with unusual brilliancy. It was fully three months before she began to suspect that anything was wrong with her husband. In the mean- time he had bought and brought home an itinerant musician's hand-organ and a most obstreperous cockatoo from a bird fancier's on State Street. Though he seemed to conduct his business with unabated lucidity, he spent whole hours in the evenings playing the hand-organ, or reading his Whitman lecture in an exceedingly loud tone of voice. A great fear grew up in the poor wife's heart, and she attempted, by the most assiduous tenderness, to win her husband back to his old self. Her attentions seemed, however, to irritate him. There was often a gleam in his eyes that frightened her, and she lay awake nights, wondering whether he were asleep or 60 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS not. When the children asked her, from time to time, "What's the matter with father?" she replied, "I think he has been working too hard," but it seemed as if her heart would break. Matters at home had reached this tragic pass when he happened one day to meet Miss Black on the street. Carry- ing her umbrella horizontally in her right hand, she held her face well up and looked him smilingly in the eye with her telepathic gaze. "Oh, how do you do, Miss — Miss — " said he, extending his hand. "Black," she gasped, drinking in his gaze eagerly. "Have you quite recovered from your wound? I have so longed to express my sympathy for you." "Oh, that was a mere nothing — nothing, I assure you. But how well you are looking ! Why is it that I have seen so little of you recently? I have missed your rosy cheeks and bright eyes. I wonder, Miss — Miss — " "Black." "Miss Black, have you ever suspected how great an inspiration you have been to me in my real work ? Your in- telligent and eager questions, your rapt attention have en- couraged me. I have felt that you have been one of the women that understand." "Oh, Mr. Lounsberry!" gasped the delighted woman. "Yes. Were I united to such a woman as you, it would not be necessary for me to spend my evenings in solitude or playing a hand-organ in sheer despair — in sheer despair, madam," and he passed down the street, gesticulating and murmuring to himself. Mr. Lounsberry now became a frequenter of the Old Book Shop, where he held long conversations with Miss Black. He placed a standing order with the proprietor for the original edition of Whitman, printed by the poet, and he seized eagerly on any volume bearing upon his favorite subject which Miss Black was able to find for him. Thus he kissed and shed tears over a lithograph facsimile of Whit- man's handwriting (the "Biographical Note") and he went MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY 61 into raptures over the essay, "Anne Gilchrist and Walt Whitman." "Ah," he murmured frequently, "if I had such a woman as you for my companion, then my great work might be- come a possibility — my 'Life of the Good Gray Poet' " And she would whisper in reply: "It shall become a possibility. You must not let anything interfere with your life-work." In addition to the Whitmaniana, Mr. Lounsberry bought various other books, often surprising the little woman by his extraordinary predilections. Thus, one day he carried off with him a volume on "The Use and Abuse of Steam Rollers," and at another time he ordered sent to his house the "Proceedings of the Council of the City of Raleigh, North Carolina," in ten volumes. If questioned as to his reason for any act that seemed at all queer, he returned answers that were surprisingly lucid and plausible. Miss Black took Miss Ammon into full confidence one day over an oyster plant steak, at the Pure Food Restaurant. "We have come to a perfect understanding, dear Julia," she said. "He knows now that he is my affinity, and that I am his. He is to cease living a lie at his so-called home. He is to take a room somewhere in my neighborhood and I am to help him with his great work, The Life of the Good Gray Poet.' He will come every evening to my house and we will talk over his work for the next day. Isn't it fortu- nate that I am living with mamma, so that I can receive him with perfect propriety ?" "Aren't you afraid of him?" asked Julia. "Afraid of him, why?" "Why, you know. Everybody says that since he was hit on the head he has been as crazy as a loon." "It's a slander! A vile slander!" replied Miss Black, her eyes blazing. "He's the gentlest, noblest, sanest creature in the world. I'd like to have anybody say that to me! Oh, well," she sighed, resignedly, "greatness must always pay its penalty, I suppose." 62 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS Mr. Lounsberry did, in fact, inform his wife that he no longer loved her and that he had found his affinity. "You know my belief in such matters," he continued gently but firmly. "It would be doing a wrong to you as well as to myself, were I to continue to live here when I love another woman." Mrs. Lounsberry threw her arms about her husband's neck. "Frank, dear," she pleaded tenderly. "Listen to me, listen to reason, for God's sake. Can't you see that you are not yourself? Don't leave me and the boys. Won't you, darling, just to satisfy me, let me call in a doctor?" He was not the least affected by her plea. He put her away from him, saying, "It's useless. I never was in better health in my life. Now, don't make a scene; it will only make you feel bad. There is only one way to do these things — and that is, to have them over as quickly and with as little fuss as possible." The unfortunate wife had already consulted a doctor, a famous specialist, who advised her to excite her husband as little as possible and, at all hazards, to avoid a violent out- break. She therefore stood by silently while he loaded his favorite books and a few of his personal belongings into an express wagon. She thought her heart would break when she saw him pass the hand-organ into a cab and climb in after it. Mr. Lounsberry and the red-faced little woman now became inseparable. He awaited on the street each morn- ing to accompany her to the book shop and escorted her home evenings. They even attended the services at Every- body's Church together, as well as the lectures by M. Magasarin, and a series of theosophical gatherings. During this happy period of her life, indeed, Miss Black fairly reveled in the intellectual existence. Whenever her duties would allow, she ran about with her affinity to the lectures of the University Extension, listening with crude, wonder- ing, half perception to learned discourses on such subjects as "The Paleozoic Era," "The Evolution of the Leafy Plant," MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY 63 and "The Laws of King Minos." She took copious notes, which she never read, of all these lectures. Chicago is a big, busy city ; wickeder than Babylon ; more bizarre than Paris ; freer than Sybaris. It soon took as a matter of course the comradeship of the little woman with the red face and the horizontal umbrella and the clean- shaven lawyer who resembled William Jennings Bryan. When they passed on the street, talking eagerly and volubly, Chicago smiled, but did not look back over its shoulder. It was generally whispered that Lounsberry was a trifle cracked, and his friends thought it a good thing that he had some one to take so good care of him, who could manage him so easily. His legal business ceased, of course, but he surprised the whole town by appearing in court to defend a suit brought against himself. He conducted the case with all his old-time, well-known brilliancy — and won. The "Life of the Good Gray Poet" did not progress, nevertheless, on account of Mr. Lounsberry's severe head- aches which, he frequently declared to Miss Black, threatened to drive him crazy. Miss Ammon, who often met the law- yer at her friend's house, and who had come to the conclu- sion that he was the sanest man on earth, suggested Faith Cure. Miss Black therefore paid a fee of fifty dollars to a healer and the treatment was begun. Mr. Lounsberry was informed by a plump, pretty brunette whom he went to see in the old Inter-Ocean building, that his headaches were the result of a claim which must be demonstrated ; that they would grow less and less violent and finally disappear en- tirely. A tall, sallow man, who emerged from an inner office, listened solemnly and nodded approval. "Oh, I'm so happy !" cried Miss Black, with utter con- fidence, as they went down in the elevator. "Aren't you glad you came? Don't you feel better already?" Mr. Lounsberry declared that he did, and he planned an extra amount of work for the morrow. Strangely enough, he was quite free from pain all that night, and for 64 THE SHRINE OF yESCULAPIUS three days. But on the fourth day his headache returned with renewed violence. Miss Black called again on the healer, who informed her that the malady had been cured, but that the present affliction was the result of "chemicalization," which required a second demonstration. After consulting with Miss Am- nion, the little woman concluded to try osteopathy. "I'll do whatever you say, Cecile," replied the lawyer, submissively. "Thy pathies shall be my pathies, thy isms my isms, and thy schism my schism." "Oh!" she gurgled, as she looked fondly and proudly upon him, "what scintillating wit, what — what exuberance ! We must not allow that great brain to be dulled or wearied by pain." The lawyer was most submissive to Miss Black's least wish. He treated her with an exaggerated reverence that would have been amusing had it not been pathetic, and he was fond of talking with bated breath, to whomsoever would listen, of her beauty, her intellect, and her divine graces. "She has the carriage of a queen," he whispered one day to the proprietor of the Old Book Shop, "the dignity of an empress, sir, and the intellect of a goddess. Why, sir, if this were a civilized community, your dingy little shop would be crowded all day to the doors by people anxious to hear the pearls of wisdom that drop from her peerless lips !" The osteopathist concluded that Mr. Lounsberry's head- aches proceeded from an injury to the medulla oblongata, and he guaranteed a cure by a course of scientific manipu- lation, especially applied to the base of the brain. The treat- ment extended over two months and cost Miss Black two hundred dollars from her small savings. The patient made no inquiry as to who was paying for these various experi- ments ; it is doubtful, indeed, if it even occurred to him that money was a necessary element in the case. Miss Black drew the required amount from her bank with a mingled feeling of privilege and fear ; privilege that she, blessed among women, had been selected to restore a genius to health, and that fear of the proverbial rainy day which always looms up, like a MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY 65 cloud, when one is compelled to attack a savings account. She had now four hundred dollars left out of the paltry sum which she had been ten years getting together. And all this time Mrs. Lounsberry was bearing her burden with outward courage and dignity, but with un- utterable inward sorrow. The members of her church flocked about her with genuine sympathy, and her pastor, a Christian of the old-fashioned sort, gave her great conso- lation. "Courage, dear sister, courage," the saintly old man would say. "I have taken your matter to the Throne of Grace, and I have felt a definite sense of answer to prayer. I am sure that all will come right in the end. And when your husband's reason is restored, you must make greater efforts to bring him into the fold." Mr. Lounsberry tired at last of the osteopathist, and gave vent to his gathered irritability in an outburst of such effective denunciation that the doctor, insulted, threw up the case. "He's a fraud," he told Miss Black. "A malignant hypochondriac. There's nothing the matter with him. His headaches are merely a pose to excite sympathy. As for his being insane, as some say, he's no more crazy than I am. He's ugly, that's all. Don't ever bring him to my office again." Now, it happened that, owing to the rapid depletion of their bank account, Miss Black and her mother began to look about for some method to reduce their living expenses. They solved the question by putting up a folding bed in their tiny parlor and taking in a roomer to occupy the front hall bedroom. This gentleman, a medical student of more than ordinary intelligence, became deeply interested in Miss Black's caller, from a professional standpoint. "My headache, sir," the latter explained to Mr. Kin- naird, "I attribute to hard study and the long wear and tear of unpleasant domestic friction. Under the ministrations of this angel of light and in the same influence of her society, I expect that all pain will pass away from my 66 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS brain as mists are swept away by the beams of the morn- ing sun. Would you believe it, sir, that my wife came to see me again to-day and besought me to return to those — ah — conditions to which I owe my present nervous state? And she was accompanied by a hypocritical priest! My God, sir ! Are we living in the middle ages, that we should turn our minds into asses and put priests in the saddle?" "But how about that blow on your head?" asked Mr. Kinnaird. "Did you feel sick at the stomach for several days after it?" "Oh, that was a mere nothing — the brush of a feather. The effects of that passed off immediately." "Mr. Lounsberry has appeared in court since then," ex- plained Miss Black, "and confounded some of the most bril- liant lawyers in this great city." Nevertheless, Mr. Kinnaird studied the case deeply, read considerably on it, and consulted with the distinguished surgeon, Henger. "It's more than likely," he explained to Miss Black, a few days later, "that there's a small piece of bone pressing down on the brain. Now, by an operation known as tre- panning, we could lift out a piece of the skull, remove the offending fragment, and effect a radical cure by taking away the cause." "I don't believe in doctors," replied Miss Black, her red face turning pale. "I — I have thought of taking him to the Reverend Alexander Dowie. He says that all doc- tors are imps of darkness — spawn of — of — the Bad Place. Would the operation be dangerous?" "Of course, there is an element of danger in all opera- tions. There's an element of danger in eating, or going to sleep. But this is not a dangerous operation, comparatively speaking." "How much would it cost?" faltered the little woman. "Oh, four or five hundred dollars. According to how much he had to pay. Great surgeons," laughed the student, with anticipatory relish borrowed from his own hopes, "are MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY fy merciful. They do not usually mortgage your future. They only aim to take what you have." Miss Black thought of the bank-book and her cheek again turned pale. The more the student thought about the matter, the more enthusiastic he became. He bought a papier-mache skull and trepanned it in his own room, working up a little sliver on the under side of the piece taken out. This he showed to Miss Black, explaining graphically the effects of such an object pressing upon the brain. She shuddered as she listened and became convinced. The sliver began to haunt her. She woke up in the night and seemed to feel it in her own brain, as plainly as if it had been a cinder in her eye. She talked so much about it to Mr. Lounsberry that he, too, at last accepted the theory and finally became able to place his finger over the exact spot where the sliver was. By pressing down at this point, he declared that he could feel something sharp push down into his gray matter, as though it were a thorn, causing the most acute pain. ^ At such times Miss Black would spring toward him crying. "Don't! don't! You may reach a vital spot and kill yourself." Arrangements were made for the operation, through Mr. Kinnaird, who obtained the coveted privilege of admin- istering the ether. The sum of four hundred dollars was settled upon, to cover the surgeon's fee and all the expenses of the hospital. Miss Black took her last dollar from the bank and carried away the useless book, without telling her mother. Mr. Lounsberry walked over to the West Side Hospital one bright morning with the little woman, and parted from her in the parlor. She was agitated almost to the point of hysteria, as she stood looking up at him, the tears chasing each other down her upturned face. Mr. Lounsberry was as utterly nonchalant as though he were going to a business confer- ence. "Come around this afternoon," he said, "and I'll tell (58 THE SHRINE OF /ESCULAPIUS you all about it. I'll be up in a couple of days and then we'll take up the 'Life of the Good Gray Poet' in earnest. When I get this sliver out of my brain, I'll be a new man." She went away to her work with a heavy heart, but at noon she was back again. "How is he?" she asked of a pretty nurse, in a white cap. "Is he cured?" "Cured?" asked the nurse. "Oh, you are the wife of the man who was operated on this morning for appendi- citis. Wait, I'll telephone upstairs." "No, no, Mr. Lounsberry, the man who had a sliver of bone in his brain." "Oh, the trepanning operation. Sit down a moment, and I'll find out for you." After a pause of ten minutes, which seemed ten hours to Miss Black, the nurse returned smiling. "Was I gone long?" she asked. "Miss Reeves called me in to help her turn her patient over. Mr. Lounsberry has not come out of the ether yet. Can't you come back about four o'clock?" At three Miss Black complained to her employer of feel- ing ill, and took the elevated over to the hospital. As she ran up the steps, she saw Dr. Henger's carriage standing by the curb, and her heart sank within her. To her mind, there was but one patient in all the great building, and the presence of the surgeon betokened ill. She met Dr. Henger coming out of the door and grasped him by the arm. "How is he?" she asked hoarsely. The great man did not recognize her. "Eh, your husband?" he asked. "The man who was hurt by a street car?" "No, no, I'm — that is to say, I mean Mr. Lounsberry." "Oh, the trepanning case!" The surgeon rubbed his hands with satisfaction. "Splendid! splendid! A perfect success, radical cure. He asked for his wife an hour ago. MISS BLACK'S AFFINITY 69 She's with him now. He was in the middle of Alderman Van Benthuysen's name when he was hit. He finished it when — God bless my soul, what ails the woman?" MR. DOOLEY ON THE PRACTISE OF MEDICINE BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE 7i MR. DOOLEY ON THE PRACTISE OF MEDICINE w HAT'S Christyan Science?" asked Mr. Hennessy. " 'Tis wan way iv gettin' th' money," said Mr. Dooley. "But what's it like ?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "Well," said Mr. Dooley, "ye have something th' mat- ther with ye. Ye have a leg cut off." "Th' Lord save us," exclaimed Mr. Hennessy. "That is, ye think ye have," Mr. Dooley went on. "Ye think ye have a leg cut off. Ye see it goin' an' says ye to ye'ersilf: 'More expinse. A wooden leg.' Ye think ye've lost it. But ye're wrong. Ye're well as iver ye was. Both legs is attached to ye, on'y ye don't know it. Ye call up a Christyan Scientist, or ye're wife does. Not manny men is Christyan Scientists, but near all women is, in wan way or another. Ye'er wife calls up a Christyan Scientist, an' says she: 'Me husband thinks he's lost a leg,' she says. 'Nonsense,' says th' Christyan Scientist, she says, f'r she's a woman, too. 'Nonsense,' says she. 'No man iver lost a leg,' she says. 'Well, 'tis sthrange,' says the v/ife. 'He's mislaid it thin,' she says, 'f'r he hasn't got it,' says she. 'He on'y thinks he's lost it,' says th' Christyan Scientist. 'Lave him think it on again,' she says. 'Lave him ray- mimber,' she says, 'they'se no such thing in th' wurruld,' she says, 'as pain an' injury,' she says. 'Lave him to put his mind hard to it,' she says, 'an', I'll put mine,' she says, 'an' we'll all put our minds to it, an' 'twill be all r-right,' she says. So she thinks an' th' wife thinks an' ye think th' best ye know how an' afther awhile a leg comes peepin' out with a complete set iv tootsies an' be th' time th' las' thought is expinded, ye have a set iv as well matched gambs as ye iver wore to a picnic. But ye mustn't stop thinkin' or ye'er wife or th' Christyan Scientist. If wun iv ye laves go th' 73 74 THE SHRINE OF JESCULAPIUS rope th' leg'll get discouraged an' quit growin'. Many a man's sprouted a limb on'y to have it stop between th' ankle an' th' shin because th' Christyan Scientist was called away to see what ailed th' baby." "Sure, 'tis all foolishness," said Mr. Hennessy. "Well, sir, who can tell?" said Mr. Dooley. "If it wasn't f'r medical progress, I'd be sure th' Christyan Scien- tists were wrong. But th' doctor who attinded me when I was young'd be thought as loonatical if he was alive to-day as th' mos' Christyan Scientist that iver rayjooced a swellin' over a long distance tillyphone. He inthrajooced near th' whole parish into this life iv sin an' sorrow, he gave us calomel with a shovel, bled us like a polis captain, an' niver thought anny medicine was good if it didn't choke ye goin' down. I can see him now as he come up dhriven' an ol' gray an' yellow horse in a buggy. He had whiskers that he cud tie in a knot round his waist, an' him an' th' priest was th' on'y two men in th' neighborhood that carried a goold watch. He used to say 'twas th' healthiest parish in th' wurrul, barrin' hangings an' thransportations an' thim come in Father Hickey's province. Ivrybody thought he was a gr-eat man but they wudden't lave him threat a spavin in these days. He was catch-as-catch-can an' he'd tackle annything fr'm pneumony iv th' lungs to premachure bald- ness. He'd niver heerd iv mickrobes an' nather did I till a few years ago whin I was tol' they was a kind iv animals or bugs that crawled around in ye like spiders. I see pitchers iv thim in th' pa-apers with eyes like poached eggs till I dhreamed wan night I was a hayloft full of bats. Thin th' dock down th' sthreet set me r-right. He says th' mickrobes is a vigitable an' ivry man is like a conservatory full iv millyons iv these potted plants. Some ar're good f'r ye an' some ar're bad. Whin th' chube roses an' geranyums is flourishin' an' liftin' their dainty petals to th' sun, ye're healthy; but whin th' other flowers gets th' best iv these nosegays, 'tis time to call in a doctor. Th' doctor is a kind iv gardiner f'r ye. 'Tis his business f'r to encourage th' good mickrobes, makin' two pansies grow where wan grew MR. DOOLEY ON THE PRACTISE OF MEDICINE 75 befure an' to hoe out th' Canajeen thistle an' th' milk wood. "Well, that sounds all r-right, an' I sind f'r a doctor. 'Dock,' says I, 'me vilets ar're thinnin' out an' I feel as though I was full iv sage brush,' I says. Th' dock puts a glass chube in me mouth an' says, 'Don't bite it.' 'D'ye think I'm a glass eater?' says I, talkin' through me teeth like a Kerry lawyer. '.What's it f'r ?' I says. 'To take ye'er timprachoor,' says he. While I have th' chube in me mouth he jabs me thumb with a needle an' laves the room. He comes back about th' time I'm r-ready to strangle an' re- moves th' chube. 'How high does she spout?' says I. 'Ninety-nine,' says he. 'Good hivens,' says I. 'Don't come near me, dock, or ye'll be sun sthruck,' I says. 'I've just examined ye'er blood,' he says. 'Ye're full iv weeds,' he says. Be that time I'm scared to death, an' I say a few prayers, whin he fixes a hose to me chest an' begins listen- in'. 'Annything goin' on inside ?' says I. ' 'Tis ye'er heart,' says he. 'Glory be,' says I. 'What's th' matther with th' ol' ingine?' says I. 'I cud tell ye,' he says, 'but I'll have to call in Dock Vinthricle, th' specialist,' he says.. 'I oughtn't be lookin' at ye'er heart at all,' he says. 'I niver larned be- low th' chin an' I'd be fired be th' union if they knew I was wurrukin' on th' heart,' he says. So I sinds f'r Dock Vinthricle an' th' dock climbs me chest an' listens an' thin he says : 'They'se something th' matther with his lungs, too,' he says. 'At times they're full iv air, an' again,' he says, 'they ain't,' he says. 'Sind f'r Bellows,' he says. Bellows comes and pounds me as though I was a roof he was shinglin', an' havin' accidentally hit me below th' belt, he sinds f'r Dock Laporrattemy. Th' Dock sticks his finger into me as far as th' knuckle. 'What's that f'r?' says I. 'That's O'Hannigan's point,' he says. 'I don't see it,' says I. 'O'Hannigan must have had a fine sinse iv humor.' 'Did it hurt?' says he. 'Not,' says I, 'as much as though ye'd used an awl,' says I, 'or a chisel,' I says, 'but,' I says, 'it didn't tickle,' I says. "He shakes his head an' goes out iv th' room with th' others an' they talk it over at tin dollars a minyet while 76 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS I'm layin' there at two dollars a day— docked. Whin they come back, wan iv thim says : 'This here is a mos' inthrestin' case an' we must have th' whole class take a look into it,' says he. 'It' means me, Hinnissy. 'Dock/ he says, 'ye will remove its brain. Vinthricle, ye will have its heart, an' Bellows, ye will take its lungs. As f'r me/ he says, 'I will add wan more vermiform appendix to me belt/ says he. ' Tis sthrange how our foolish pre-decessors/ says he, 'niver got onto the dangers iv th' vermiform appendix/ he says. 'I have no doubt that that's what kilt Methausalem,' he says. So they mark out their wurruk on me with a piece of red chalk an' if I get well, I look like a rag carpet. Sometimes they lave things in ye, Hinnissy. I knowed a man wanst, Mooriarty was his name — Tim Mooriarty, an' he had to be hem-stitched hurridly, because they was goin' to be a ball game that day an' they locked up in him two sponges, a saw, an ice pick, a goold watch an' a pair iv curlin' irons belongin' to wan iv th' nurses. He tol' me he didn't feel well, but he didn't think anything iv it till he noticed that he jingled whin he walked. "That's what they do with ye nowadays, Hinnissy. Ivry time I go into Dock Cassidy's office, he gives me a look that makes me wisht I'd wore a suit of chain armor. His eyes seem to say, 'Can I come in ?' Between th' Christyan Scientists an' him, 'tis a question iv whether ye want to be threated like a loonytic or like a can iv presarved vigita- bles. Father Kelly says th' styles iv medicin changes like th' styles iv hats. Whin he was a boy, they give ye quinine f'r whatever ailed ye, an' now they give ye sthrychnine an' next year they'll be givin' ye proosic acid maybe. He says they're findin' new things th' matther with ye ivry day, an' ol' things that have to be taken out, ontil th' time is comin' whin not more thin half iv us'll be rale an' th' rest'll be rubber. He says they ought to enforce th' law iv assault with a deadly weepin' again th' doctors. He says that if they knew less about pizen an' more about gruel an' opened fewer patients an' more windows, they'd not be so manny Christyan Scientists. He says th' difl'rence between Christ- MR. DOOLEY ON THE PRACTISE OF MEDICINE 77 yan Scientists an' doctors is that Christyan Scientists thinks they'se no such things as disease an' doctors thinks there ain't annything else. An there ye ar-re." "What d'ye think about it?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "I think," said Mr. Dooley, "that if th' Christyan Scien- tists had some science an' th' doctors more Christyanity, it wouldn't make anny diff'rence which ye called in — if ye had a good nurse." THE ETIOLOGY, DIAGNOSIS, AND TREATMENT OF THE PREVA- LENT EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY BY GEORGE H. GOULD, A. M., M. D. 79 THE ETIOLOGY, DIAGNOSIS, AND TREATMENT OF THE PREVALENT EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY* _ . IOU have all heard of the doctor who would never eat roast duck because the impolite animal had m^J always been so personally insulting to him in its ^*^' remarks. Doubtless you may wonder if I am not also a bit impertinent in choosing the subject of quackery as a theme of talk before physicians regularly educated and presumably despising irregularity and sectarian medi- cine with just indignation. I assure you it is not be- cause I suspect you of infidelity — at least of a very pro- nounced type. I simply wish to give you a hint of the difficulties and temptations you will encounter when, as physicians loyal to science and modest self-respect — no science, you know, without unselfishness and modesty — you come in sharp contact with the evils of modern sham medicine. The temptation to compromise will then come with subtle but decided force. I said I would not suspect you of positive infidelity, but as science always consists in finer discriminations and the recognitions of small differ- ences that escape ordinary observation, so, with civilization, is coming the influx of a thousand grades of deception and fraud. The question is always suggested: How much of a quack is he ? You may have no doubt about Sharp & Co.'s Safe Cure, the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter, or the pictured old man leering at you from the theatrical bulletin boards with Mephisto grin as he lovingly clasps to his arms a bottle of sarsaparilla. But how is it with the ♦An address delivered by invitation of the Faculty of the Medical Department of the Buffalo University, before the Graduat- ing Class, May 3, 1892. 8l 82 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS very great and the very regular Dr. Supersuspect, who writes puffs of secret proprietary preparations, or who praises one especial brand of wine — after receiving a fine case of "samples" — as a sure cure for influenza. How about Dr. Slydog, who fills his reception-rooms with hos- pital dummies, or who makes his patients come many times for the relief of a simple ailment, that if cured at once would result in too small a bill, or who tells them all their symptoms are very serious, but that he has caught the disease just in time? Are these gentlemen quacks? Dear old John Phoenix complained that our use of ad- jectives was entirely too vague. If a man were called good, he wanted to know just exactly how good you thought him. If "Sally who lives in our alley" should be thought beautiful, is that the only adjective that could be applied to Helen of Troy? John, therefore, proposed to prefix a number to each adjective that should indicate just the degree of perfection desired. If, in your calm and dispassionate opinion, Sally is as beautiful as Helen, then you would call her ioo beautiful, though perhaps your friends might think her only 25 beautiful. If we apply the principle to quacks, we have excellent results that will enable us to ticket them with a fair degree of accuracy. For instance, take the street-corner man who sells Wizard Oil with negro-minstrel accompaniment and four white stallions ; he gathers a lot of money from the crowd and then drives off at a gallop ; he is evidently a 100 quack, pure and simple. Take Keeley next. In order not to exaggerate, let us put him at 98 or 99. Then the Hahnemannian Knights, according to the degree of their medical education and the weakness of their potentizations, may be ranged from 95 to 97. The metaphysical Healers, being sincere but ignorant, should find their level at 80 or 70 perhaps. Where must we put the "vivopaths," the "physio-medicals," the "bio-chemicals," the "manupaths," and all the motley crowd, unnamable, indescribable? Where should we grade the cunning fel- lows that are clinging desperately to the coat-tails of re- spectability and medicine, but who are neither respectable THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 83 nor medical, except in externals? Surely not under 50. Where shall be placed the fellows who receive "presents" from drug-stores and instrument-makers, who write thera- peutic articles on drugs that they know nothing about, or run dispensaries as feeders for the private office? Can they come nearer than 25? Then the "brilliant-operation men" whom the newspaper reporters so easily fool, the college professors and hangers-on, who in blowing the collegiate horn pianissimo, opportunely emphasize the note of their own private and personal trombone fortissimo ! In all such cases the individual conscience must decide. Quackery may be likened to a poor artificial eye — everybody else can see through it except the patient. Strange beyond all strangeness is the gullibility of the patient, his devotion to his duper. Populus vult decipi — which being modernized means, the mob loves humbug. But however disgusting, the fact is explainable. The deep-seated grudge and suspicion of the populace for scien- tific medicine and the secret love with which it turns toward its magic-mongering humbuggers is evolutionary but a survival of the time when medicine was nothing but magic — an atavistic return to primitive modes of thought and therapeutic superstition. And it is also profoundly pathetic, an appallingly serious fact. The scientific student of socio- logy watches the inrooting of institutional weeds and fruit- less brush that the future civilization must grub out and burn with costly labor and sacrifice. The student of hered- ity and psychology sees the hardening of modes of thought and habit that must bring only pain, or misapplied or use- less function. The sincere physician sees disease permeat- ing unborn babes, and scientific progress crippled and un- utilized by reason of popular perversity. But a further explanation of the peculiar and re- juvenated power of modern medical charlatanism consists in the fact that it is not only a survival of half-extinguished medieval fires, flaming up with temporary and dying bril- liancy, it is also a "combine" with modern civilized money- making and unscrupulous politics. It is not only an atavism, 84 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS it is also an avatarism, — present-day cupidity is engrafting itself upon ancient superstition, — a marriage of medieval magic mummery and money-making, so that the sly cun- ning of the politician uses the stupid monkey's paw to pull the chestnuts of profit out of the fire of human suffering. Nowhere else is this fact so certainly seen as in the history and actual outworkings of that consummate example of civilized quackery called Homeopathy. An hour's study of Hahnemann's works would convince any convincible per- son that this sorry specimen of nineteenth-century medieval- ism is a disgrace to civilization ; and yet it is fashionable. Laughed out of Europe, it has sought and found a home among Americans, infinitely receptive of every form of opera bouffe whimsicality and rampant rascality. If its lay adherents had the faintest conception of the hideous absurdi- ties on which it is built, and the trickery by which it lives, they would be sickened with disgust. The distinctive prin- ciples that make it differ from scientific medicine are the following delectable Hahnemannian hocuspocuses : i. The cause of human disease is either the "miasm" of sycosis, of syphilis, or, in overwhelming proportion, the itch. 1 With marvelous inconsistency, however, the origin of all diseases is held to be beyond the discovery of the human mind, supernatural, hyperphysical, a disturbance of our "dynamis" or soul life. Diagnosis of disease is, therefore, impossible, and thus the very first requisite of cure, the knowledge of the cause of morbid conditions, is declared incomprehensible and scorned. 2. The more you weaken or dilute a drug, the stronger it becomes. Hahnemann's own words are : "A homeopathic dose is augmented by increasing the quantity of fluid in which the medicine is dissolved." Oliver Wendell Holmes, who has tried to drown this pestiferous sect with logic and laughter for a quarter of a century, calculates the oceans of water in which a grain of medicine must be dissolved in order to "potentize" it to suit Hahnemann. Mathematically, the thirtieth "potentization" would require a body of water equal in amount to 480,769 worlds the size of our own in THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 85 which to dilute a physiologic dose of medicine. Hahnemann himself could not get it "thin enough," and so finally gave all medicine by the nose, by "olfaction," or smelling. And yet medicine so thin as this has effects that only a madman would dream of ascribing to it. A purely inert powder like lycopodium, administered in unimaginably minute doses, will, according to Hahnemann, produce 1,608 distinct symp- toms, covering a period of fifty days. One-millionth of a millionth of a millionth of a grain of common table salt produced 1,349 symptoms, including headache, vomiting, cardiac and lung troubles, disturbance of sight, hearing, and so on. The method of potentization is by shaking. Hahne- mann would not advise above two shakings for fear of mak- ing the dose too strong. The great apostle of homeopathy, Lutze, in an address that has reached at least forty-two editions, says that an old man was cured of persistent vomiting by means of a glass of water that Lutze had mag- netized by simply holding it in his right hand. 2 3. To cure a disease, give a medicine that in a well person would cause the disease, or something as near to it as possible,— that is the holy nonsense of similia similibus curantur. By a grain of a drug diluted in millions of oceans of water, you are supposed to substitute a drug-disease for the natural disease ; and the "instinctive vital force" will turn and "go for" the natural disease, because the vital force has, as it were, been made mad and spurred on by the drug disease. 3 It is worthy of this lunatic medicine that, reeking with medievalism, it should claim to be the "new school," and call "old school" that system which, by instruments of pre- cision, bacteriology, experimental research, and a hundred scientific methods of which no homeopathist ever originally dreamed, is endeavoring to cure and prevent disease. It is worthy of this "new school" that it should pretend to prac- tise Hahnemannism, while secretly using any medicinal agents and in physiologic doses. Made according to Hahne- mann's theories, made as it is to-day pretended they are 86 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS made, one could harmlessly eat a stomachful of their sugar pellets, supposed to be deadliest poison. Not an instrument of precision, not a bacillus, not a ptomain or leucomain, not a single measure of genuine therapeutics or experimental research, not a single discovery of the thousands that make up the body of modern scientific medical truth and power, not one, not one was ever discov- ered by a homeopath. Their greatest discovery I know of is that the human iris, by its tints and fleckings and colors, denotes the parts and the particular ailments or wounds of the patient's body diseased or injured. 4 I have the recent catalogue of a homeopathic drug store in New York, in which, to-day, among thousands of filthy things, or rather names of things, offered for sale are the following "morbific products, nosodes," etc., offered in high potencies : "Lice insects," any of the three varieties, "serpents," "tarantulas," and "crickets." You can buy bottled sunlight, nay, the sun himself ; or you have the choice of the blue rays, the yellow rays, bottled galvanism, or faradic electricity, etc. "Snow" and "ice" or "moonlight" or the "east wind," are at your command for ten cents a "graft" ; it is not the germs or material particles, but the disease itself — Bright's, catarrh — any that you will ; but you can also have the "pus from a carbuncle," from "Pott's -disease," etc. You can buy "Brahma" himself, it seems ; or, if you are sad, you can, for ten cents, have "tears of a young girl in great grief and suffering" ; the "salt of the brain secreted from a gentle- man's scalp with the perspiration" ; "a silk handkerchief eaten by a cow and taken from the stomach in a hard ball, during the three years she never had a calf." One of the most interesting and suggestive items of the catalogue is simply entitled "Omnia." If one quotes Hahnemann or the elder homeopathists, the Hahnemannians say "this is misrepresentation," and that "in modern progress we have advanced beyond all that." And if one quotes the modern homeopathists more versed in the art of mystification, but at heart equally absurd, it is said "these do not represent true homeopathy." I have quoted THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 87 both ancient and modern somewhat extensively, not because I have any special grudge against this School — far from it — but because its adherents are the most numerous and co- herent body of sectarians, and because they have succeeded, in this quack-ridden land in befuddling so many people sensible in other matters. In a simple commercial sense, I ask, would it pay to publish catalogues and offer for sale combined middle-aged filth and modern rascality, if there were not buyers? To-day there are in fifty-three "institutes" some eight thousand pitiable victims of sin, forming four times a day in fifty-three lines ("jab-time") to receive from renegade medical graduates (hired servants of an ignorant charlatan trading upon the name of medicine) the hypodermatic in- jection of a secret substance. They are guaranteed a per- manent cure of their disease, and yet a large proportion have gone through the cure more than once, and a large proportion of those never returning a second time, relapse. Despite the medical, physiologic, and literary barbarism of the Keeley pamphlets, despite the indirect fiendish cruelties of the system (to friends of patients who ruin themselves to raise the money — those who can't pay the $100 "may," as at least one of the superintendents said, "go to hell!") — despite this and the secrecy, there are men, otherwise sharp- witted and intelligent, who are crazy in advocacy of this pernicious filth. The whole affair illustrates well the pop- ular distrust in scientific medicine, and the popular belief in a magical short-cut to health by therapeutic miracle. Young Men's Christian Associations, which would not think of listening to a scientific lecture on the results and cure of chronic alcoholism, open their doors to this mon- strous guller ; and the Jay Gould of the preaching business, from a supposedly Christian pulpit, calls for God's benedic- tion on the most unchristian of deviltries. With a hound's chorus of a thousand newpapers, the Chicago Tribune leads in this infamous exploitation of the poor drunkard. So Perkin's tractors sprang into popularity, and so, after the speedy burial of this delusion, others will periodically spring 88 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS up in obedience to popular superstition, prodded and nursed by cunning Mephistophelianism. The danger of medical lunacy overtaking the people is again illustrated by the vogue of the creed of the sorry folk termed metaphysical or divine healers, Christian Scientists, Faith or Mind Curers. Would you think it possible that people right here in the United States, among us to-day, could believe that "it is impossible that a boil is inflamed or painful," and that inflammation, hemorrhage, and decom- position are but thoughts, beliefs ; 6 and that carcinoma, diph- theria, typhoid fever, what you will, can be cured by prayer or thinking hard at it? According to Dr. Nichols, 8 there are within the limits of only one of these curious sects about thirty organized churches, and also one hundred and twenty societies that maintain regular services. Twenty-three in- stitutes, "scientific" and "metaphysical," are advertised in one periodical. The number of practitioners "regularly graduated" reaches thousands. Or, take another national disgrace, the patent-medicine shame. Even semi-barbarous countries have forbidden the entrance within their limits of these vile concoctions, de- vised to empty the pockets of the poor of money while filling their bodies with poison. Any chemical analyst would tell you these "non-alcoholic bitters" are made up of from 25 to 50 per cent, of the vilest alcohol. Thousands of poor babes have been killed by soothing syrups — of course, containing no opium or other hypnotic — and so on, so on, to the end of the list ! What an egregious farce, that people should buy a cure-all containing they do not and cannot know what ; com- pounded they do not know by whom — certainly not, of course, by a physician ; vouched for by no one — an evident bit of hoodooism to get money — a shotgun prescription fired at a disease in the abstract — an unknown remedy for an un- known disease from an unknown hand! And yet the mil- lions upon millions of dollars invested in these nostrums, and thereby annually filched from the ignorance and want of the poorest and neediest, should arouse even the most THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 89 corrupt of legislators to put a stop to it all. The superla- tive impudence of the villainous syndicates is degrading and wrecking the once noble profession of pharmacy, and turning the disgust of the reader and traveler into nausea by the pollution of every newspaper and of every landscape with sickening advertisements. And now, why do Keeleyism, the patent-medicine and nostrum sham, the homeopathic disgrace, and a thousand such things exist among us? They are, of course, a vital loss and a vital injury to the community, working a pollu- tion of body upon an idiocy of intellect, by a Boss-Tweedism of ethics. Why is our country the refuge and asylum of the survival superstitions, the delirious nonsense, and diabolical financial schemes that Europe has kicked out in wrathful disgust ? Simply this : the newspapers, journals, and maga- zines dare not tell the truth or be the means of telling the truth. Every magazine or serial depends for existence upon two sources of revenue: its subscribers and its advertisers. Let a journal or paper publish an article exposing the in- famy, and "stop my subscription" would come from a few dozen people whose pet fad is that they are being perse- cuted, and that they, who have never studied such things a minute, know the truth about physiology and disease that thousands of scientific men have been deceived in finding. Hence no editor dare admit an article showing up the shame and wrong of these things. Physicians and other scientific men have nothing to sell, nothing to advertise; but all quacks, nostrum venders, and patent-medicine men have something to sell, and their advertisements form a tremendous source of revenue to every paper in the land. Let any journal reveal to its readers their humbuggery, and at once it is ruined. But advertisements maligning and misrepresenting their opponents are put into the reading columns as reading notices, neither editor nor publisher daring to disobey the orders of the syndicates. A well-known illustration is the thousand-journal denunciation and contumely, for the past year or two, of the druggists who dare "substitute" for the 90 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS quack medicine called for similar and equally good prepara- tions at one-half the price of the more advertised cure-all. Other examples of journalistic perversity might be cited ; e. g., Harper's Magazine a year or two ago published an article by a professional humorist, claiming that homeo- pathy had saved modern medicine from the medieval bar- barism of filthy medication and beastly therapeutics. Would it insert an article showing that the reverse is the truth, and that by the malicious and egregious blunder it had grossly insulted every physician and scientist, civilization, and truth itself? Would the newspapers of the country, headed by the North American Review, give one-hundredth of the free advertising to a reputable or scientific institution for the treatment of chronic alcoholism that they have given Keeley's humbuggery, and out of which that shrewd ad- vertiser is making millions of dollars? The etiology and pathology of carcinoma is certainly a deep scientific question, and yet a dashing magazine edi- tor, who had never studied it for a minute, indorses the cure of a quack, Mattei, who had likewise not a scrap of medical knowledge ; and the people are thus gulled into spending hundreds of thousands of dollars. Any medical student could have exposed the fallacy, knowing how easily tumors are diagnosticated, and thus often "cured." Neither Mr. Stead nor his Italian Count care for science. They have a short cut to scientific knowledge no physician could have even found out by study or pathologic investigation ! A month or two ago, a bill, "a very moderate one," and one that "the three leading and influential schools of medicine" had recommended to the legislature of Ohio, to control the practise of medicine, was shouted down in guffaws of derision by the barbaric civilized legislators of that State at the command of the lobby controlled by the so-called physio-medicals, the druggist, patent-medicine men, and the newspapers. After this delectable piece of diabolism, this same Fejee Island legislature — of Ohio — voted $5,000 to experiment with the Keeley humbug, each legislator to furnish one Keeley patient. Doubtless with ore adverti ■■ ng that Would A chroi: , and <: nd patho; V'jfjs First Patient ap of the pet iled into isily THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 91 such men charity is to begin at home, and the patient will not be hard to find! Charley Lamb said that the only way he could relieve his feelings when he heard a Gregorian chant, was to lie down on the floor, flat on his belly, and howl like a Der- vish. It is useless and tiresome to multiply examples. To the honest physician the diagnosis is easy, but to the physi- cian himself infected with the disease and in the incubation period, the disorder is unrecognizable. He will contend most vehemently that the patient is in blooming health. All who wish to know the facts can easily learn them. Evi- dence of the fallacy of the popular distrust may be seen by the words of one who is certainly a competent and unpreju- diced observer — the present highly honored president of Harvard University. "It is not more than a hundred years ago that medicine claimed to have been a liberal calling, an intellectual pur- suit, and even to-day its position as such is very inadequately recognized by the mass of educated men. Now, I venture to say that as medical education is now given in the best schools, no profession has a better right to claim the title of an educated, intellectual calling, and no men have a better right to demand recognition as intellectual men, of trained reasoning faculties, than the physicians them- selves. I see, in my position at the head of the University, which includes the department of liberal arts and several professional departments, that the educated community does not recognize this. And I exhort you, gentlemen, in all your various fields of influence to do your utmost to establish this just claim of the medical profession to the position of an intellectual calling, and to establish the claim of this great body as a body of highly trained men who use to the best advantage for the community the reasoning faculty, the scientific power of the human mind." A quack is a man more interested in himself than in the healing art; caring more for his patent than for his patient ; more desirous of making dollars than of curing 92 THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS disease. A physician is one whose first thought is to cure his patient. This is the sharp dividing line that makes the whole matter clear. There are those that say that medicine is a business, that the cure of diseased people and the obviation of disease is a calling like any other ; that the one who cures best will do the best business, i. e., get the most patients. There is but one single comment to make to that ; it is a lie, and the man who says it knows he is a liar. I beg of you, if you are entering the medical profession with such ideas in your heads and such intentions in your hearts — I beg of you, leave the profession to-day. You will be poor physicians, you will die ashamed of yourselves, you will disgrace a noble calling, and you will hinder civilized progress. I assure you this universe is not put up that way ! You may make some money, perhaps, but the same deviltry applied in poli- tics or bucket shops will get you much more of the stuff you seek. We have a wretched superabundance of such fellows now to watch. A large share of the energy of good men is already used up in neutralizing their malice and thwarting their cunning. You will do far better by run- ning for alderman, dealing in green goods, or in anything except in the health and confidence of afflicted human be- ings. That is a work fitting only to those who recognize other ideals and purposes than selfishness and money get- ting. The acceptance by you of your diplomas this day pledges and consecrates you to a mission among your fel- low men that is truly holy. How far you are to be above trade is clearly shown by the fact that the chemist — as near a physician as he is — can without dishonor patent drugs and reap exclusive pecuniary gain from the learning and ingenuity of his brain — but you may not do this. In a close analysis the work of the chemist and scientist is due human- ity as much as is yours ; every device and improvement of civ- ilization withheld from public use or sold dearly is trading in people's lives, is a sin against the race — but only you, yours alone of all the callings, must realize the fact in every- day life. It is a glorious honor to belong to the profession THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 93 of which that can be said. But the honor only conies to them that are willing to be unknown as honored, who find the reward in doing the work, and in the secret satisfaction of a silent, happy, and peaceful conscience. But with the professional honor and beatitude co- exists the professional duty. There is the greatest danger that the men who believe that medicine is a business will have their way, and sink professional standing to the level of politics and trade. Will you join them or will you op- pose them? The whole of your life will be the answer, and this answer will largely consist in your attitude to quack- ery. Dr. H. C. Wood says that as few or no homeopaths to- day believe or practise the Hahnemannian clap-trap, they have, ipso facto, suicided, become in a sectarian sense non- existent, and that on our part we may ignore the fictitious distinction and fraternize with them. The president of the Philadelphia County Medical Society advises letting them into our medical societies. A prominent weekly medical journal of New York smiles very graciously at the sectar- ian ; and a good friend of mine, an editor of a high-standard medical journal, tells me that in his city consultations with a sectarian are very common, and go unrebuked by physi- cians otherwise in good standing. In other words, after centuries of struggle and with victory in our hands — throw it away in a fit of avaricious- ness, cowardice, and weariness. The gentlemen quoted doubtless mean well, but the advice is unconsciously traitor- ous to humanity and to the medical profession. If the ad- vice be followed, we shall fall back again into what the printers call pi, and out of this general debasement moral physicians, as individuals, will again have to raise them- selves above the re-commercialized mass, and with century- long struggle, reform again a new guild, with precisely the same ideals and aims as that we poltroons had destroyed. It cannot escape the observation of any one who wishes to see facts as they are, that the great mass of homeopath- ists, by pure necessity, have in practise entirely abandoned the whole crazy nonsense of Hahnemannian mumbo-jumbo, 94 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS and cling only to the name for purely commercial reasons. The great homeopathist, Guernsey, he probably who sup- plied "Dr." Swan with his sample or graft of "catarrhus nasi," says that there is in New York City, to-day, no ex- clusive homeopathic practitioner. Any fool knows that no disease can be influenced or cured by the medieval drivel of potentizations, shaking, smellings, similias, etc. But a lot of silly women have got it into their heads that this is a "nice" and a "new" school, and these mountebanks, while giving common drugs in physiologic doses, are willing to sail under false colors for the sake of the practise it brings. It is a sickening fact, but fact it is. What is the treatment of this veritable and terrible contagious disease — quackery? How shall you meet it? What are you going to do about it? Compromise? The suggestion recalls Hugo's famous monosyllabic fighter at Waterloo. Instead of the ninety thousand surrendering to ten thousand, suppose the ninety thousand learn a lesson. Combination is the order of the day in the world of trade. What is thus done for selfish reasons may be done for unselfish ones. The patent-medicine men have got every druggist and every newspaper in America in their determined grip. The homeopathists meet in national and international conventions, and devote their entire energies and time to schemes for getting State and Governmental money and aid, and for grasping every point of pecuniary and social advantage. In our lofty scorn of such low cun- ning, and in our intense preoccupation with disease and its cure, we never raise a finger toward meeting such attack, never pass a resolution to set legislatures right, never try to instruct the public in its medical duties and self-interest. If as a profession we did but devote a tenth of our col- lective energy and intellect to these things, quackery would disappear. The medical profession is shut within itself. It has no means or machinery for reaching the public ear. The few thousand quacks occupy the field ; the public hears from them always and emphatically. THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 95 Realize the condition of the farmer and workman, un- educated, undiscriminating. These are the bulk of our people. With almanacs and circulars and million-fold de- vices, the advertisements, fictitious certificates, and false promises of the nostrum-traders and the quacks reach his mind and feed it with subtle poison and plausible falsehood. The family physician is squeezed aside, and his testimony against these frauds, if he have the frankness to denounce them, is credited to his jealousy. The medical profession has scorned to devise machinery to reach these people and to open their eyes to the humbuggery. By the great mass of the people the medical profession is looked upon with con- tempt or ill-will, its members to be called in dire necessity, its bills paid grudgingly. The bottles of the cure-all meet the physician's eye in every household. Every State and national medical congress or organization should have a literary bureau, the local physician as the local agent, to instruct the people in physiologic, sanitary, and medical du- ties, and to neutralize the pernicious influences at work. It should not be held beneath our dignity to make a popular but honest and instructive medical almanac for popular dis- tribution. The American Medical Association and the Congress of American Physicians and Surgeons, every State and every medical society, should pronounce as bodies upon the great questions affecting the health of the public. Legis- lators think we do not care, that we have no power. The quacks have their ears and fill them. There are a hundred great public duties we are leaving undone when, if we but spoke as a profession, medical and sanitary progress would sweep on to certain victory It is, let us hope, only a ques- tion of time. In the riot and intoxication of the rich con- quest of American advantage, Democracy thinks that every outrageous form of delusional crankery must have its swing and chance to rule or ruin. But that day is fast passing away We must now settle down to the hard work of gov- erning and civilizing. When the Prince Hal of Democracy becomes the King of Civilization he must henceforth scorn 96 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS the Falstaffs of quackery and scatter-brained tomfoolery. So in your case when the Student Hal becomes the Practi- tioner King beware that you be not tempted to think that the aim of your life, professional success, will come more quickly by compromise with quackery and trickery methods. There is no doubt of the fact if you are after quick success you will find it that way. But this plan has three disad- vantages: you will not find enduring success, you will not be self-satisfied and morally strong, and you will not gain the love and honor of your fellow men. To be explicit and detailed, let me counsel a few "don'ts": i. Don't be in a hurry for success. 2. Don't consult or fraternize with quacks of any kind or degree. 3. Don't be afraid of speaking out your denunciation of quackery, regardless of the loss of a few possible patients and the charge of jealousy. 4. Don't support medical journals run in the interest of the advertisers, journals that are muzzled, that are con- ciliatory to or nondenunciatory of quackery. 5. Don't sign a single certificate so long as you live, as regards special, proprietary, or secret preparations. 6. Don't write a medical article in which such prepara- tions are praised or even mentioned. 7. Don't accept commissions or presents from drug- gists, manufacturers, opticians, or surgical-instrument dealers. 8. Don't let any professional allusion to yourself, your opinions, or your work get into the lay newspapers. Don't be a sneak advertiser, a "newspaper doctor." 9. In your own righteous wrath against quacks outside of the profession, don't forget that there are many within the profession, and that they are the most despicable — true wolves in sheep's clothing. I would rather be the "Wizard King of Pain," and buy affidavits of impossible cures at twenty dollars each, than a respectable hypocrite indirectly THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 97 or secretly hobnobbing with newspaper reporters and sup- plying them with "data." As physicians charged with the health of the present and future, our duty must become clear: the entire witch's Sabbath of "pathies" and "isms" ; the morbid cranks, drunk with ignorance and conceit ; the sly cunning of advertising schemers ; the tricks and frauds of medical parasites to suck the blood of their dupes ; the patent medicine disgrace — all these things must be choked out of existence. It is a war- fare, not a compromise, we are entering upon. It is not a theory, it is a condition that confronts us. Another need is for individual instruction of people. People are wofully ignorant, medically, and we have been shuffling and cowardly. When a nice little foolish woman or a pig-headed man with arched eyebrows and self-satis- faction tells me, "Oh, I belong to the new school," I at once say, Ach, so! — the very school I belong to — but, we differ as to what the new school really is. Excuse me, do you have the itch? Do you believe that your eau-de-cologne gets stronger by shaking it, and that if you shake it in a peculiar manner too many times it will get stronger than aqua f ortis ? Do you believe your ink will get blacker, or your whiskey stronger the more water you put in it? Do "ink-grafts" and cologne "grafts" work ? Do you believe in watching the way the toe-nails grow for a year after taking a bit of vegetable carbon — toasted bread — as symptoms of disease and evidences of drug-power? Do you believe the only safe way of taking medicine is by smelling it? Did you, as a boy, find that stomach-ache from eating green apples was cured by eating green currants? If you don't believe any of these things, you are a sensible person, not a Hahne- mannian. These and such things are the only things that can be called Hahnemannian. If you don't believe them, do you think it honest or manly to pretend to believe them for the sake of a few dollars, and sneakingly, hypocritically practise medicine much the same as physicians do, giving common drugs in physiologic doses? I have been surprised to see how a few minutes' talk q8 the shrine of ^sculapius with such people makes it plain to them what silly fools they have been, and how egregiously they have been duped. I have looked about for some scrap of literature I could hand to these folks, to show them what roaring nonsense they unwittingly gave their assent to. Oliver Wendell Holmes's little skit is almost the only such thing. Con- vinced, however, that people need and will profit by simple instructions honestly, plainly, justly put before them, I wish to have a little pamphlet prepared that, historically and actually, will show up the ridiculous pretensions of modern homeopathic practise. I shall, therefore, postpone a bit of private pleasure I had planned, and offer a little prize of $100.00 for the best essay on the subject. An essay should not contain over 15,000 words, and in simplicity and directness should be adapted to the com- monest lay understanding. Papers should be sent me on or before January 1, 1893, typewritten, without the name of the author, but accompanied by a seal letter, giving the author's name with motto or nom-de- plume. The essays will be given a competent committee, and when their de- cision is reached the sealed letters of the authors will be opened, and the prize sent the winner. The essay will then be cheaply but well printed in large quantities and supplied physicians at the cost of printing. Such a monograph supplied as a missionary tract for gratuitous distribution by physicians, at the cost of print- ing, would set thousands of people straight, and would soon stop the legislative and financial Governmental support of this trumpery. I wish some millionaire would give me a few hundred dollars to offer as prizes for other missionary tracts ; e. g., on the "Patent-Medicine Evil," "The Reasons Physicians Do Not Advertise," "Why Physicians Do Not Patent Instruments, Drugs, etc.," "The Duty of the Gov- ernment and State to Medicine," "Everybody's Medical Duty," "The Desirability of a Higher Standard of Medical Education," etc. What a disgrace that we cannot get Gov- ernmental aid for payment of meat and milk inspectors, boards of health, bacteriologic and hygienic institutes, THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 99 etc., etc., whilst the people's money can be filched from them to support arrant quackery. What a disgrace that patent-medicine syndicates can draw many millions every year from the diseased, deluded, and poverty-stricken of our people, with a Governmental tax of only 25 per cent, upon their mixtures, whilst the same people must pay a tax of 60 per cent, upon microscopes, and one of 493/2 cents a pound and 60 per cent, besides upon woolen clothing. The physicians of the civilized world are to-day work- ing for the public welfare with a zeal and intelligence, com- bined with an unselfishness, that no other profession, trade, or calling can faintly rival. Think, first, that these men are almost furiously seeking by hygiene and prophylaxis to render their own calling useless and superfluous, themselves occupationless. That is a fact so strange as almost to seem unnatural in these days of self-seeking, class-legislation, trusts, and combines. Notice, again, that every instrument, discovery, drug, or invention brought out that will do any good to humanity is at once and unreservedly given to the world. No physi- cian ever patents or keeps secret any discovery or inven- tion. Compare that with the world's way. Reflect, thirdly, that all the world over every physician, whenever asked, gives his services to the poor without de- mand or without hope of compensation. Would not a lawyer or a locksmith think one crazy if it were proposed that he should give a large share of his time and service for nothing? Carry the thought on. The entire tremendous labor, for the benefit of the community, of keeping up the enor- mous hospital work of all the world's cities is borne by physicians without a cent of pay. Are there, for example, thousands of similar institutions where the poor, free of charge, can get legal counsel and help ? Is there one such ? It has been the universal medical tradition, accepted without a murmur, that whosoever devotes himself to the healing art must gladly construe his duty in this unselfish manner, renouncing the usual ideals and commercial meth- ioo THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS ods of the surrounding world. Beyond all question it is a fact that a like grade of intellectual capacity, the same educational preparation, and an equal amount of tireless labor in any other calling would yield a far greater financial result than is secured by the average physician. A great physician said, "If my son goes into the medical profession, I shall cut him off with a shilling." "Why so ?" "Because the profession is not appreciated by the public." It is a public misfortune, a social evil, if there is slowly, subtly, but most certainly, creeping through the profession the lethal poison of a lowered ethical standard. Every per- son of the land has a selfish interest in preventing our adop- tion of the more selfish aims and ideals of the world of trade. Business men are very short-sighted if they allow or encourage medicine to become a business. Whenever this change shall have come about (if, alas! it should), and medical success is sought by the prevalent rules of trade, then the degradation will be irreparable, one of the noblest of offices will have become as corrupted and salable as those of politics, and an engine of incalculable good to humanity will have been hopelessly wrecked. Could one but reach their ears, how one would like to appeal to the general public, to legislators of a serious- minded type, if such there be, to the better class of inde- pendent journals, to the more thoughtful of literary men, to the rulers and teachers in colleges and universities, to careful and prudent business men even, to patriots and lovers of humanity, all. This malicious and stupid mis- conception; this non-recognition of, and opposition to, the true work and worth of modern scientific medicine; this hectoring and bullying of physicians in all their aims for the public good ; this cordial support of all legislative and sordid schemes of cranks and quacks — is a social menace and a common danger. It is long past the time that this suicidal debauchery should have been stopped. To all good citizens it should be protested : This is your affair, not ours. It is as much a national sin as slavery, monopoly or class legislation, vote-buying, the liquor-corruption, or city- THE EPIDEMIC OF QUACKERY 101 luxury — more than a sin, it is a moral disease of the body politic, and such disease is an expensive luxury. It costs untold money, suffering, and human lives. Every physician knows of many deaths directly, due to quackery, btit the in- direct deaths and consequences are incalculable. Quackery kills thousands to hydrophobia's one. The silent scourges are the great ones — those that cut off single lives slowly but ceaselessly. It becomes for you every day more and more a question of self-protection and self-interest. It is not, as you seem to think, a huge joke, but it is your health, your life, your future, that you are trifling with. Every epidemic of any contagious disease, to put it in the crudest way, means the waste of millions of dollars of lost time, of expensive sickness, and of grievous death. In these United States hundreds of thousands of needless deaths are an- nually taking place— needless because you will reach no helping hand to physicians to carry out the preventive meas- ures, discovered and well known to us. In these same States, still other millions of cases of sickness and millions of deaths are going to occur during the next few years, again because you will not aid the medical profession to search out other at present unknown sources of disease. There are plenty of possible Kochs and Pasteurs among American young men, if you cared, as they do abroad, to help find them instead of laughing at them, killing them with dignity and distrust, whilst feasting and honoring your beloved charlatans. Are your charlatans founding in- stitutes of bacteriology and preventive medicine? Are they trying to probe the mystery and prevent the mockery of disease ? Has it been the quacks that have builded the noble new home of which city and profession are proud, for the trinity of great schools of Medicine, Pharmacy, and Den- tistry, of your beloved Buffalo University ? Are you wise as a nation, if, like old persecutors, you martyrize those who are your truest, most serviceable friends? For the sake of the simplest selfishness, for the love of your children, for 102 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS the sake of civilization and humanity, for God's sake, let us turn away from the folly and sin of this trifling, and enter at last upon the ways that lead to HEALTH ! • NOTES (i) It is sometimes said that no man could have been so asi- nine as to ascribe to the itch such profound powers, but using Hahnemann's own words, as quoted by that most excellent writer, Prof. Nathan Jacobson of Syracuse (Journal of the American Medi- cal Association, March 5, 1890), psora is the only real fundamental cause and source of all the other countless forms of disease figuring as peculiar and definite diseases in books on pathology under the names of nervous debility, hysteria, hypochondriasis, mania, melan- choly, idiocy, madness, epilepsy, and convulsions of all kinds, soft- ening of the bones (rhachitis), scoliosis and kyphosis, caries of bone, cancer, varices, pseudoplasms, gout, hemorrhoids, icterus and cyanosis, dropsy, amenorrhea, hemorrhages from the stomach, nose, lungs, bladder, or uterus, asthma, and suppuration of the lungs, impotency and sterility, sick headache (hemicrania), deafness, cataract and glaucoma, renal calculus, paralysis, deficiency of the special senses, and pains of every variety. (2) He concludes "that if pure water can be so enriched in medicinal virtue by simple contact with the hand as to cure a disease of years' duration, how much more must this power grow if a properly diluted drug, whose peculiar powers experience and prov- ings have taught, be subjected to constant shakings in the hand until it becomes enormously efficient." Further, he says : "The poison- ous properties are removed from a drug through its dilution, while its special peculiarities, so to speak, its soul, remains, and by rub- bing and shaking becomes vivified and strengthened by human magnetism." (3) Hahnemann's own words again: "By administrating a medicinal potency exactly in accordance with the similitude ^ of symptoms, a somewhat stronger, similar artificial morbid affection is implanted upon the vital power, deranged by a natural disease. This artificial affection is substituted, as it were, for the weaker similar natural disease (morbid excitation), against which the in- stinctive vital force, now only excited to stronger effort by the drug affection, needs only to direct its increased energy ; but, owing to its brief duration, it will soon be overcome by the vital force, which, liberated first from the substituted artificial (drug) affection, now again finds itself enabled to continue the life of the organism in health." The wonderous clearness, logic, and correspondence with the facts of pathology herein displayed make the statement a 103 104 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS fitting cornerstone for a lot of lunatics and sharpers to build a system of philosophy and medicine upon! (4) Die Iris, nach den neuen Entdeckungen des Dr. Ignas von Pecsely; also, Die Augendiagnose des Dr. Ignaz von Peczely, etc.; von Emil Schlegel, Tubingen, 1887. Spots in parts of the iris, ac- cording to location, mean wounds of the ear, the shin, a syphilitic tumor, lung-disease, prolapse of the uterus, etc., etc. (5) "Science and Health," pp. 188, 231. (6) Science, January 22, 1892. '.V ACCORDING TO PUNCH 105 ACCORDING TO PUNCH UNIVERSITY OF LONDON BACHELOR OF MEDICINE — FIRST EXAMINATION, 184I f . jflHE first examination for the degree of Bachelor of Medicine has taken place at the London Uni- L=^»' versity, and has raised itself to the level of Oxford *&&*££ti an d Cambridge. Without doubt it will soon acquire all the other at- tributes of the colleges. Town and gown rows will cause perpetual confusion to the steady-going inhabitants of Euston Square. Steeple-chases will be run, for the express delight of the members, on the waste grounds in the vicinity of the tall chimneys on the Birmingham railroad ; and in all probability, the whole of Gower Street, from Bedford Square to the New-road, will, at a period not far distant, be turfed and formed into a T. Y. C. ; the property securing its title- deeds under the arms of the university for the benefit of its legs — the bar opposite the hospital presenting a fine leap to finish the contest over, with the uncommon advantage of immediate medical assistance at hand. The public press of the last week has duly blazoned forth the names of the successful candidates, and great must have been the rejoicings of their friends in the country at the event. But we have to quarrel with these journals for not more explicitly defining the questions proposed for the examinations — the answers to which were to be considered the tests of proficiency. By means of the ubiquity which Punch is allowed to possess, we were stationed in the ex- amination room, at the same time that our double was de- lighting a crowded and highly respectable audience upon Tower-hill; and we have the unbounded gratification of 107 108 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS offering an exact copy of the questions to our readers, that they may see with delight how high a position medical knowledge has attained in our country : selections from the examination papers Anatomy and Physiology i. State the principal variations found in the kidneys procured at Evan's and the Coal Hole; and likewise name the proportion of animal fibre in the rumpsteaks of the above resorts. Mention, likewise, the change produced in the albumen, or white of an egg, by poaching it upon toast. 2. Describe the comparative circulation of blood in the body, and of the Lancet, Medical Gazette, and Bell's Life in London, in the hospitals ; and mention if Sir Charles Bell, the author of the "Bridgewater Treatise on the Hand," is the editor of the last-named paper. Medicine 1. You are called to a fellow-student taken suddenly ill. You find him lying on his back in the fender ; his eyes open, his pulse full, and his breathing stertorous. His mind appears hysterically wandering, prompting various wind- mill-like motions of his arms, and an accompanying lyrical intimation that he, and certain imaginary friends, have no intention of going home until the appearance of day-break. State the probable disease ; and also what pathological change would be likely to be affected by putting his head under the cock of the cistern. 2. Was the Mount Hecla at the Surrey Zoological Gardens classed by Bateman in his work upon skin diseases — if so, what kind of eruption did it come under? Where was the greatest irritation produced — in the scaffold-work of the erection, or in the bosom of the gentleman who lived next to the gardens, and has a private exhibition of rockets every night, as they fell through his skylight and burst upon the stairs? 3 Which is the most powerful narotic— opium, hen- ACCORDING TO PUNCH 109 bane, or a lecture upon practise of physic ; and will a mod- erate dose of antimonial wine sweat a man as much as an examination in Apothecaries' Hall ? Chemistry and Natural Philosophy 1. Does any chemical combination take place between the porter and ale in a pot of half-and-half upon mixture? Is there a galvanic current set up between the pewter and the beer capable of destroying the equilibrium of living bodies ? 2. Explain the philosophical meaning of the sentence — "He cut away from the crushers as quick as a flash of lightning through a gooseberry-bush." 3. There are two kinds of electricity, positive and negative ; and these have a pugnacious tendency. A, a stu- dent, goes up to the College positive he shall pass ; B, an examiner, thinks his abilities negative, and flummuxes him accordingly. A afterward meets B alone, in a retired spot, where there is no policeman, and, to use his own expression, "takes out the change" upon B. In this case, which re- ceives the greatest shock — A's "grinder," at hearing his pupil was plucked, or B for doing it ? 4. The more crowded an assembly is, the greater quantity of carbonic acid is evolved by its component mem- bers. State, upon actual experience, the percentage of this gas in the atmosphere of the following places: — The Con- certs d'Ete, the Swan in Hungerford Market, the pit of the Adelphi, Hunt's Billiard Rooms, and the Colosseum dur- ing the period of its balls. Animal Economy 1. Mention the most liberal pawnbrokers in the neighborhood of Guy's and Bartholomew's ; and state under what head of diseases you class the spring outbreak of dis- secting cases and tooth-drawing instruments in their win- dows. 2. Mention the cheapest tailors in the metropolis, and especially name those who charge you three pounds for no THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS dress coats ("best Saxony, any other color than blue or black"), and write down five in the bills to send to your governor. Describe the anatomical difference between a peacoat, a spencer, and a Taglioni, and also state who gave the best "prish" for old ones. THE PHYSIOLOGY OF THE LONDON MEDICAL STUDENT Of The Examination at Apothecaries' Hall The last task that devolves upon our student before he goes up to the Hall is to hunt up his testimonials of at- tendance to lectures and good moral conduct in his ap- prenticeship, together with his parochial certificate of age and baptism. The first of these is the chief point to ob- tain ; the last two he generally writes himself, in the style best consonant with his own feelings and the date of his indenture. His "morality ticket" is as follows : Copy. "I hereby certify, that during the period Mr. Joseph Muff served his time with me he especially recommended himself to my notice by his studious and attentive habits, highly moral and gentlemanly conduct, and excellent dis- position. He always availed himself of every opportunity to improve his professional knowledge." (Signed) According to the name on the indenture. The certificate of attendance upon lectures is only ob- tained in its most approved state by much clever maneuver- ing. It is important to bear in mind that a lecturer should never be asked whilst he is loitering about the school for his signature of the student's diligence. He may then have time to recollect his ignorance of his pupil's face at his discourses. He should always be caught flying— either im- mediately before or after his lecture— in order that the whole business may be too hurried to admit of investiga- tion. In the space left for the degree of attention which the in 112 THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS student has shown, it is better that he subscribes nothing at all than an indifferent report ; because in the former case, the student can fill it up to his own satisfaction. He usually prefers the phrase — "with unremitting diligence." And having arrived at this important section of our Physiology, it behooves us to publish, for the benefit of med- ical students in general, and those about to go up in particu- lar, the following: Code of Instructions To be observed by those preparing for examination at the Hall i. Previously to going up, take some pills and get your hair cut. This not only clears your faculties, but im- proves your appearance. The court of examiners dislike long hair. 2. Do not drink too much stout before you go in, with the idea that it will give you pluck. It renders you very valiant for half an hour and then muddles your notions with indescribable confusion. 3. Having arrived at the Hall, put your rings and chains in your pocket, and, if practicable, publish a pair of spectacles. This will endow you with a grave look. 4. On taking your place at the table, if you wish to gain time, feign to be intensely frightened. One of the ex- aminers will then rise to give you a tumbler of water, which you may, with good effect, rattle tremulously against your teeth when drinking. This may possibly lead them to excuse bad answers on the score of extreme nervous trepida- tion. 5. Should things appear to be going against you, get up a hectic cough, which is easily imitated, and look acutely miserable, which you will probably do without trying. 6. Endeavor to assume an off-hand manner of answer- ing ; and when you have stated any pathological fact — right or wrong — stick to it; if they want a case for example, in- vent one, "that happened when you were an apprentice in the country." This assumed confidence will sometimes ACCORDING TO PUNCH 113 bother them. We knew a student who once swore at the Hall, that he gave opium in a case of concussion of the brain, and that the patient never required anything else. It was true — he never did. 7. Should you be fortunate enough to pass, go to your hospital next day and report your examination, describing it as the most extraordinary ordeal of deep-searching ques- tions ever undergone. This will make the professors think well of you, and the new men deem you little less than a mental Colossus. Say, also, "you were complimented by the court." This advice is, however, scarcely necessary, as we never knew a student to pass who was not thus hon- ored — according to his own account. All things being arranged to his satisfaction, he de- posits his papers under the care of Mr. Sayer, and passes the interval before the fatal day much in the same state of mind as a condemned criminal. At last Thursday arrives, and at a quarter to four, any person who takes the trouble to station himself at the corner of Union Street will see various groups of three and four young men wending their way toward the portals of Apothecaries' Hall, consisting of students about to be examined, accompanied by friends who come down with them to keep up their spirits. They approach the door, and shake hands as they give and re- ceive wishes of success. The wicket closes on the candi- dates, and their friends adjourn to the "Retail Establish- ment" opposite, to go the odd man and pledge their anxious companions in dissector's diet-drink — vulgo, half-and-half. Leaving them to their libations, we follow our old friend Mr. Joseph Muff. He crosses the paved courtyard with the air of a man who had lost half-a-crown and found a halfpenny ; and through the windows sees the assistants dispensing plums, pepper, and prescriptions, with provok- ing indifference. Turning to the left, he ascends a solemn- looking staircase, adorned with severe black figures in niches, who support lamps. On the top of the staircase he enters a room, wherein the partners of his misery are col- lected. It is a long, narrow apartment, commonly known ii4 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS as "the funking room," ornamented with a savage-looking fireplace at one end, and a huge surly chest at the other; with gloomy presses against the walls, containing dry, mouldy books in harsh, repulsive bindings. The windows look into the court ; and the glass is scored by diamond rings, and the shutters penciled with names and sentences, which Mr. Muff regards with feelings similar to those he would experience in contemplating the inscriptions on the walls of a condemned cell. The very chairs in the room look over- bearing and unpleasant; and the whole locality is invested with an overallishness of unanswerable questions and intri- cate botheration. Some of the students are marching up and down the room in feverish restlessness ; others, arm in arm, are worrying each other to death with questions ; and the rest are grinding away to the last minute at a manual, or trying to write minute atomic numbers on their thumb- nail. The clock strikes five, and Mr. Sayer enters the room, exclaiming: "Mr. Manhug, Mr. Jones, Mr. Saxby, and Mr. Collins." The four depart to the chamber of examination, where the medical inquisition awaits them, with every spe- cies of mental torture to screw their brains instead of their thumbs, and rack their intellect instead of their limbs, the chair on which the unfortunate student is placed being far more uneasy than the tightest fitting "Scavenger's daughter" in the Tower of London. After an anxious hour, Mr. Jones returns with a light bounding step to a joyous extempore air of his own composing. He has passed. In another twenty minutes Mr. Saxby walks fiercely in, calls for his hat, condemns the examiners ad inferos, swears he shall cut the profession, and marches away. He has been plucked ; and Mr. Muff, who stands sixth on the list, is called on to make his appearance before the awful tribunal. Of the College Our hero once more undergoes the process of grinding before he presents himself in Lincoln's-inn-Fields for ex- amination at the College of Surgeons. Almost the last af- ACCORDING TO PUNCH 115 fair which our hero troubles himself about is the examina- tion at the College of Surgeons ; and as his anatomical knowledge requires a little polishing before he presents him- self in Lincoln's-inn-Fields, he once more undergoes the process of grinding. The grinder for the College conducts his tuition in the same style as the grinder for the Hall — often they are united in the same individual, who perpetually has a vacancy for a resident pupil, although his house is already quite full; somewhat resembling a carpet bag, which was never yet known to be so crammed with articles, but you might put something in besides. The class is carried on similar to the one we have already quoted ; but the knowledge re- quired does not embrace the same multiformity of subjects ; anatomy and surgery being the principal points. Our old friends are assembled to prepare for their last examination, in a room fragrant with amalgamated odors of stale tobacco-smoke, varnished bones, leaky prep- arations, and gin-and-water. Large anatomical prints de- pend from the walls, and a few vertebrae, a lower jaw, and a sphenoid bone, are scattered upon the table. "To return to the eye, gentlemen," says the grinder; "recollect the Petitian Canal surrounds the Cornea. Mr. Rapp, what am I talking about ?" Mr. Rapp, who is drawing a little man out of dots and lines upon the margin of his "Quain's Anatomy," starts up and observes, "Something about the Paddington Canal run- ning round a corner, sir." "Now, Mr. Rapp, you must pay me a little more atten- tion," expostulates the teacher. "What does the operation for a cataract resemble in a familiar point of view ?" "Pushing a boat-hook through the wall of a house to pull back the drawing-room blinds," answers Mr. Rapp. "You are incorrigible," says the teacher, smiling at the simile, which altogether is an apt one. "Did you ever see a case of bad cataract?" "Yes, sir, ever so long ago — the Cataract of the Ganges at Astley's. I went to the gallery, and had a mill with — " Ii6 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPlUS "There, we don't want particulars," interrupted the grinder; "but I would recommend you to mind your eyes, especially if you get under Guthrie. Mr. Muff, how do you define an ulcer?" "The establishment of a raw," replies Mr. Muff. "Tit ! tit ! tit !" continues the teacher, with an expression of pity. "Mr. Simpson, perhaps you can tell Mr. Muff what an ulcer is?" "An ebrasion of the cuticle produced by its own ab- sorption," answers Mr. Simpson all in a breath. "Well, I maintain it's easier to say raw than all that," observes Mr. Muff. "Pray, silence. Mr. Manhug, have you ever been sent for to a bad incised wound ?" "Yes, sir, when I was an apprentice: a man using a chopper cut off his hand." "And what did you do?" "Cut off myself for the governor, like a two-year-old." "But now you have no governor, what plan would you pursue in a similar case?" "Send for the nearest doctor — call him in." "Yes, yes, but suppose he wouldn't come?" "Call him out, sir." "Pshaw ! you are all quite children," exclaims the teacher. "Mr. Simpson, of what is bone chemically com- posed ?" "Of earthy matter, or phosphate of lime, and animal matter, or gelatine.** "Very good, Mr. Simpson. I suppose you don't know a great deal about bones, Mr. Rapp ?" "Not much, sir. I haven't been a great deal in that line. They give a penny for three pounds in Clare Market. That's what I call popular osteology." "Gelatine enters largely into the animal fibres," says the leader gravely. "Parchment, or skin, contains an im- portant quantity, and is use by cheap pastry-cooks to make jellies." ACCORDING TO PUNCH 117 "Well I have heard of eating your words" says Mr. Rapp, "but never your deeds." "Oh ! oh ! oh !" groan the pupils at this gross appropria- tion, and the class getting very unruly is broken up. The examination at the College is altogether a more respectable ordeal than the jalap and rhubarb botheration at Apothecaries' Hall, and par consequence, Mr. Muff goes up one evening with little misgivings as to his success. After undergoing four different sets of examiners, he is told he may retire, and is conducted by Mr. Belfour into "Paradise," the room appropriated to the fortunate ones, which the curious stranger may see lighted up every Friday evening as he passes through Lincoln's-inn-Fields. The in- quisitors are altogether a gentlemanly set of men, who are willing to help a student out of a scrape, rather than "catch question" him into one. Nay, more than once the candidate has attributed his success to a whisper prompted by the kind heart of the venerable and highly-gifted individual — now, alas! no more — who until last year assisted at the examinations. Of course, the same kind of scene takes place that was enacted after going up to the Hall, and with the same re- sults, except the police-office, which they manage to avoid. The next day, as usual, they are again at the school, stand- ing innumerable pots, telling incalculable lies, and singing uncounted choruses, until the Scotch pupil who is still grind- ing in the museum, is forced to give over study, after having been squirted at through the keyhole five distinct times with a reversed stomach-pump full of beer, and finally unken- nelled. The lecturer upon chemistry, who has a private pupil in his laboratory learning how to discover arsenic in poisoned people's stomachs, where there is none, and make red, blue, and green fires, finds himself locked in, and is obliged to get out at the window ; whilst the professor of medicine, who is holding forth as usual to a select very few, has his lecture upon intermittent fever so strangely interrupted by distant harmony and convivial hullaballoo, that he finishes abruptly in a pet, to the great joy of his n8 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS class. But Mr. Muff and his friends care not. They have passed all their troubles — they are regular medical men, and for aught they care the whole establishment may blow up, tumble down, go to blazes, or anything else in a small way that may completely obliterate it. In another twelve hours they have departed to their homes, and are only spoken of in the reverence with which we regard the ruins of a by-gone edifice, as bricks who were. Our task is finished. We have traced Mr. Muff from the new man through the almost entomological stages of his being to his perfect state ; and we take our farewell of him as the "general practitioner." In our Physiology we have endeavored to show the medical student as he actually exists — his reckless gaity, his wild frolics, his open disposi- tion. That he is careless and dissipated we admit, but these attributes end with his pupilage; they did not do so spon- taneously, the up-hill struggles and hardly-earned income of his laborious future career would, to use his own terms, "soon knock it all out of him" ; although, in the after-waste of years, he looks back upon his student's revelries with an occasional return of old feelings, not unmixed, however, with a passing reflection upon the lamentable inefficacy of the present course of medical education pursued at our schools and hospitals, to fit a man for future practise. We have endeavored in our sketches so to frame them, that the general reader might not be perplexed by technical or local allusions, whilst the students of London saw they were the work of one who had lived amongst them. And if in some places we have strayed from the strict boundaries of perfect refinement, yet we trust the delicacy of our most sensitive reader has received no wound. We have discarded our joke rather than lose our propriety ; and we have been pleased at knowing that in more than one family circle our Physiology has, now and then, raised a smile on the lips of the fair girls, whose brothers were following the same path we have traveled over at the hospitals. We hope with the new year to have once more the grati- ACCORDING TO PUNCH 119 fication of meeting our friends. Until then, with a hand of- fered in warm fellowship,— not only to those composing the class he once belonged to, but to all who have been pleased to bestow a few minutes weekly upon his chapters — the Medical student takes his leave. APPROPRIATE EXAMINATION PAPERS ; WITH ANSWERS Q. What should be the medical treatment of a common cold, which, in fact, requires only white-wine-whey and a footpan ? A. Pidv: Antitn: grains five, to be taken at bed-time ; and Mistura Feb: three tablespoonfuls every three hours, with Emplast: Picis to the region of the chest. Q. If you asked a patient to put out his tongue, and found it perfectly clean, what would you do? A. Shake my head, and say, "Ah !" or "Hum I" Q. What is the meaning of "Hum," sir? A. It means, "I see what is the matter with you." Q. How would you look on feeling a pulse which proved natural and regular? A. Very serious ; and I would pretend to be calculat- ing. Q. A lady, slightly indisposed, asks whether you don't think her very ill — your answer? A. I should say that she would have been so if she hadn't sent for me in time. Q. Suppose a patient in perfect health demands what you think of his case? A. I should tell him, very mysteriously, that he ought to take care of himself. Q. An anxious mother, sir, sends for you to see her darling child — what would you first do? A. Begin by admiring it. Q. How long in a given case would you send in medi- cine? A. As long as the patient believed himself ill. 1 Q. That belief being erroneous, what would you send, pray 1 20 ACCORDING TO PUNCH 121 A. I think Tinct: Card: Comp: with either 'Aqua Men- thae Pip: or Mist: Camph: Q. Be so good, sir, as to translate the word "Inter." A, Five shillings. RHODERICK AT SURGEON'S HALL BY TOBIAS SMOLLETT 123 RHODERICK AT SURGEON'S HALL ITH the assistance of this faithful adherent, who gave me almost all the money he earned, I pre- served my half-guinea entire till the day of exam- r ination, when I went with a quaking heart to Surgeon's Hall, in order to undergo that ceremony. Among the crowd of young fellows who walked in the outward hall, I perceived Mr. Jackson, to whom I immediately went up, 'and inquiring into the state of his armor, understood it was still undetermined by reason of his friend's absence, and the delay of the recall at Chatham, which put it out of his power to bring it to a conclusion. I then asked what his business was in this place? He replied, he was resolved to have two strings to his bow, that in case the one failed he might use the other; and, with this view, he was to pass that night for a higher qualification. At that instant a young fellow came out from the place of examination with a pale countenance, his lips quivering, and his looks as wild as if he had seen a ghost. He no sooner appeared, than we all flocked about him with the utmost eagerness to know what reception he had met with; which, after some pause, he described, recounting all the questions they had asked, with the answers he made. In this manner, we obliged no less than twelve to recapitulate, which, now the danger was past, they did with pleasure, before it fell to my lot. At length the beadle called my name, with a voice that made me trem- ble as much as if it had been the sound of the last trumpet. However, there was no remedy : I was conducted into a large hall, where I saw about a dozen of grim faces sitting at a long table; one of whom bade me come forward, in such an imperious tone that I was actually for a minute or two bereft of my senses. The first question he put to me was, "Where was you born?" To which I answered, "Scotland. 125 126 THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS "In Scotland," said he; "I know that very well; we have scarce any other countrymen to examine here; you Scotch- men have overspread us of late as the locusts did Egypt. I ask you in what part of Scotland was you born?" I named the place of my nativity, which he had never before heard of. He then proceeded to interrogate me about my age, the town where I served my time, with the term of my apprenticeship; and when I informed him that I served three years only, he fell into a violent passion ; swore it was a shame and a scandal to send such raw boys into the world as surgeons ; that it was a great presumption in me, and an affront upon the English, to pretend to sufficient skill in my business, having served so short a time, when every appren- tice in England was bound seven years at least; that my friends would have done better if they had made me a weaver or shoemaker, but their pride would have me a gentleman, he supposed, at any rate, and their poverty could not afford the necessary education. This exordium did not at all contribute to the recovery of my spirits, but, on the contrary, reduced me to such a situation that I was scarce able to stand; which, being per- ceived by a plump gentleman who sat opposite to me, with a skull before him, he said, Mr. Snarler was too severe upon the young man ; and, turning towards me, told me, I need not to be afraid, for nobody would do me any harm; then, bidding me take time to recollect myself, he examined me touching the operation of the trepan, and was very well satisfied with my answers. The next person who questioned me was a wag, who began by asking if I had ever seen amputation performed ; and, I replying in the affirmative, he shook his head, and said, "What! upon a dead subject, I suppose? If," contin- ued he, "during an engagement at sea, a man should be brought to you with his head shot off, how would you be- have?" After some hesitation, I owned such a case had never come under my observation, neither did I remember to have seen any method of cure proposed for such an acci- dent, in any of the systems of surgery I had perused. RHODERICK AT SURGEON'S HALL 127 Whether it was owing to the simplicity of my answer, or the archness of the question, I know not, but every member at the board deigned to smile, except Mr. Snarler, who seemed to have very little of the animal resibile in his con- stitution. The facetious member, encouraged by the success of his last joke, went on thus : "Suppose you was called to a patient of a plethoric habit, who had been bruised by a fall, what would you do ?" I answered, I would bleed him imme- diately. "What," said he, "before you had tied up his arm?" But this stroke of wit not answering his expectation, he desired me to advance to the gentleman who sat next him ; and who, with a pert air, asked what method of cure I would follow in wounds of the intestines. I repeated the method of cure as it is prescribed by the best surgical writers; which he heard to an end, and then said, with a supercilious smile, "So you think by such treatment the patient might recover." I told him I saw nothing to make me think otherwise. "That may be," resumed he, "I won't answer for your foresight; but did you ever know a case of this kind succeed ?" I answered I did not ; and was about to tell him I never saw a wounded intestine ; but he stopped me, by saying with some precipitation, "Nor never will. I affirm that all wounds of the intestines, whether great or small, are mortal." "Pardon me, brother," says the fat gen- tleman, "there is very good authority " Here he was interrupted by the other with, "Sir, excuse me, I despise all authority. Nullius in verba. I stand upon my own bottom." "But, sir, sir," replied his antagonist, "the reason of the thing shows " "A fig for reason," cried the sufficient member ; "I laugh at reason ; give me ocular demonstration." The corpulent gentleman began to wax warm, and observed that no man acquainted with the anatomy of the parts would advance such an extravagant assertion. This innuendo en- raged the other so much, that he started up, and in a furious tone exclaimed, "What, sir, do you question my knowledge in anatomy ?" By this time, all the examiners had espoused the opinion of one or other of the disputants, and raised 128 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS their voices all together, when the chairman commanded silence, and ordered me to withdraw. In less than a quarter of an hour I was called in again, received my qualification sealed up, and was ordered to pay five shillings. I laid down my half-guinea upon the table, and stood some time, until one of them bade me begone. To this I replied, "I will, when I have got my change," upon which another threw me five shillings and sixpence, saying, I should not be a true Scotchman if I went away without my change. I was afterwards obliged to give three shillings and sixpence to the beadles, and a shilling to an old woman who swept the Hall. This disbursement sunk my finances to thirteenpence half-penny, with which I was sneaking off, when Jackson, perceiving it, came up to me, and begged I would tarry for him, and he would accompany me to the other end of the town, as soon as his examination should be over. I could not refuse this to a person that was so much my friend ; but I was astonished at the change of his dress, which was varied in half an hour from what I have already described, to a very grotesque fashion. His head was cov- ered with an old smoked tie-wig that did not boast one crooked hair, and a slouched hat over it, which would have very well become a chimney-sweeper or a dustman; his neck was adorned with a black crape, the ends of which he had twisted, and fixed in the button-hole of a shabby great-coat that wrapped up his whole body; his white silk stockings were converted into black worsted hose; and his countenance was rendered venerable by wrinkles, and a beard of his own painting. When I expressed my surprise at this metamorphosis, he laughed and told me, it was done by the advice and assistance of a friend who lived over the way, and would certainly produce something very much to his advantage ; for it gave him the appearance of age, which never fails of attracting respect. I applauded his sagacity, and waited with impatience for the effects of it. At length he was called in, but whether the oddness of his appearance excited a curiosity more than RHODERICK AT SURGEON'S HALL 129 usual in the board, or his behavior was not suitable to his figure, I know not; he was discovered to be an impostor, and put into the hands of the beadle, in order to be sent to Bridewell. So that instead of seeing him come out with a cheerful countenance, and a surgeon's qualification in his hand, I perceived him led through the outward hall as a prisoner, and was very much alarmed and anxious to know the occasion; when he called, with a lamentable voice and piteous aspect to me, and some others who knew him, "For God's sake, gentlemen, bear witness that I am the same in- dividual, John Jackson, who served as surgeon's second mate on board The Elisabeth, or else I shall go to Bridewell." It would have been impossible for the most austere hermit that ever lived to have refrained from laughing at his ap- pearance and address ; we therefore indulged ourselves a good while at his expense, and afterwards pleaded his case so effectually with the beadle, who was gratified with half a crown, that the prisoner was dismissed, and, in a few mo- ments, resumed his former gaiety ; swearing, since the board had refused his money, he would spend it, every shilling, before he went to bed, treating his friends; at the same time inviting us all to favor him with our company. DIPLOMA NOS UNIVERSITATAS SANT^E GLORVINA We learned Professors of the College, The Alma Mater of true knowledge, Where students learn, in memoria, The philosophical amatoria, Where senior fellows hold no power, And junior sophists rule the hour, Where every bachelor of arts Studies no science — but of hearts, Takes his degree from smiling eyes And gets his FELLOWSHIP— by sighs ; Where scholars learn, by rules quite simple, To expound the mystics of a dimple ; To run through all their moods and tenses. Where none (though still to grammar true) Could e'er decline — a billet doux, Though all soon learn to conjugate, (Eadum nos autoritate). We — learned Professors of this College, The Alma Mater of true knowledge, Do, on the Candidate Morgani, (Doctissimo in Medicini), Confer his right well earned degree, And dub him henceforth, sage M. D., He, having stood examination, On points might puzzle half the nation, Shown where with skill he could apply A sedative, or stimuli; How to the chorda tympani He could, by dulcet symphony, The soul divine itself convey, How he (in verses) can impart 131 132 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS A vital motion to a heart, Through hours which Time had sadly robb'd, Though dull and morbid it had throbb'd. Teach sympathetic nerves to thrill, Pulses to quicken or lie still ; And without pause or hesitation, Pursue that vagrant thing sensation From right to left, — from top to toe, From head of sage to foot of beau, While vain it shuns his searching hand, E'en in its own pineal gland. But did we all his feats rehearse, How he excels in tuneful verse, How well he writes — how well he sings, How well he does ten thousand things, Gave we due meed to this bright homo, It would — Turgeret hoc Diploma. Glorvin^e Owensonee. DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 133 DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT ^— HAT very singular man, old Dr. Heidegger, once invited four venerable friends to meet him in his study. There were three white-bearded gentlemen, Mr. Medbourne, Colonel Killigrew, and Mr. Gas- coigne, and a withered gentlewoman, whose name was the Widow Wycherly. They were all melancholy old creatures, who had been unfortunate in life, and whose greatest mis- fortune it was that they were not long ago in their graves. Mr. Medbourne, in the vigor of his age, had been a pros- perous merchant, but had lost his all by a frantic speculation, and was now little better than a mendicant. Colonel Killi- grew had wasted his best years, and his health and substance, in the pursuit of sinful pleasures, which had given birth to a brood of pains, such as the gout, and divers other tor- ments of soul and body. Mr. Gascoigne was a ruined poli- tician, a man of evil fame, or at least had been so till time had buried him from the knowledge of the present genera- tion, and made him obscure instead of infamous. As for the Widow Wycherly, tradition tells us that she was a great beauty in her day ; but, for a long while past, she had lived in deep seclusion, on account of certain scandalous stories which had prejudiced the gentry of the town against her. It is a circumstance worth mentioning that each of these three old gentlemen, Mr. Medbourne, Colonel Killigrew, and Mr. Gascoigne, were early lovers of the Widow Wycherly, and had once been on the point of cutting each other's throats for her sake. And, before proceeding further, I will merely hint that Dr. Heidegger and all his four guests were sometimes thought to be a little beside themselves, — as is not unfrequently the case with old people, when worried either by present troubles or woful recollections. "My dear old friends," said Dr. Heidegger, motioning 135 136 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS them to be seated, "I am desirous of your assistance in one of those little experiments with which I amuse myself here in my study." If all stories were true, Dr. Heidegger's study must have been a very curious place. It was a dim, old-fashioned chamber, festooned with cobwebs, and besprinkled with an- tique dust. Around the walls stood several oaken book- cases, the lower shelves of which were filled with rows of gigantic folios and black letter quartos, and the upper with little parchment-covered duodecimos. Over the central bookcase was a bronze bust of Hippocrates, with which, ac- cording to some authorities, Dr. Heidegger was accustomed to hold consultations in all difficult cases in his practise. In the obscurest corner of the room stood a tall and narrow oaken closet, with its door ajar, within which doubtfully ap- peared a skeleton. Between two of the bookcases hung a looking-glass, presenting its high and dusty plate within a tarnished gilt frame. Among many wonderful stories re- lated of this mirror, it was fabled that the spirits of all the doctor's deceased patients dwelt within its verge, and would stare him in the face whenever he looked thitherward. The opposite side of the chamber was ornamented with the full- length portrait of a young lady, arrayed in the faded mag- nificence of silk, satin, and brocade, and with a visage as faded as her dress. Above half a century ago, Dr. Heideg- ger had been on the point of marriage with this young lady ; but, being afflicted with some slight disorder, she had swal- lowed one of her lover's prescriptions, and died on the bridal evening. The greatest curiosity of the study remains to be mentioned ; it was a ponderous folio volume, bound in black leather, with massive silver clasps. There were no letters on the back, and nobody could tell the title of the book. But it was well known to be a book of magic ; and once, when a chambermaid had lifted it, merely to brush away the dust, the skeleton had rattled in its closet, the pic- ture of the young lady had stepped one foot upon the floor, and several ghastly faces had peeped forth from the mirror ; DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT 137 while the brazen head of Hippocrates frowned, and said, "Forbear !" Such was Dr. Heidegger's study. On the summer afternoon of our tale a small round table, as black as ebony, stood in the centre of the room, sustaining a cut-glass vase of beautiful form and elaborate workmanship. The sunshine came through the window, between the heavy festoons of two faded damask curtains, and fell directly across this vase ; so that a mild splendor was reflected from it on the ashen visages of the five old people who sat around. Four cham- pagne glasses were also on the table. "My dear old friends," repeated Dr. Heidegger, "may I reckon on your aid in performing an exceedingly curious experiment ?" Now Dr. Heidegger was a very strange old gentleman, whose eccentricity had become the nucleus for a thousand fantastic stories. Some of these fables, to my shame be it spoken, might possibly be traced back to my own veracious self; and if any passages of the present tale should startle the reader's faith, I must be content to bear the stigma of a fiction monger. When the doctor's four guests heard him talk of his proposed experiment, they anticipated nothing more wonder- ful than the murder of a mouse in an air pump, or the ex- amination of a cobweb by the microscope, or some similar nonsense, with which he was constantly in the habit of pes- tering his intimates. But without waiting for a reply, Dr. Heidegger hobbled across the chamber, and returned with the same ponderous folio, bound in black leather, which common report affirmed to be a book of magic. Undoing the silver clasps, he opened the volume, and took from among its black letter pages a rose, or what was once a rose, though now the green leaves and crimson petals had assumed one brownish hue, and the ancient flower seemed ready to crumble to dust in the doctor's hands. "This rose," said Dr. Heidegger, with a sigh, "this same withered and crumbling flower, blossomed five and fifty years ago. It was given me by Sylvia Ward, whose i 3 8 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS portrait hangs yonder ; and I meant to wear it in my bosom at our wedding. Five and fifty years it has been treasured between the leaves of this old volume. Now, would you deem it possible that this rose of half a century could ever bloom again?" "Nonsense !" said the Widow Wycherly, with a peevish toss of her head. "You might as well ask whether an old woman's wrinkled face could ever bloom again." "See!" answered Dr. Heidegger. He uncovered the vase, and threw the faded rose into the water which it contained. At first, it lay lightly on the surface of the fluid, appearing to imbibe none of its moisture. Soon, however, a singular change began to be visible. The crushed and dried petals stirred, and assumed a deepening tinge of crimson, as if the flower were reviving from a deathlike slumber; the slender stalk and twigs of foliage became green ; and there was the rose of half a century, looking as fresh as when Sylvia Ward had first given it to her lover. It was scarcely full bloom ; for some of its deli- cate red leaves curled modestly around its moist bosom, within which two or three dewdrops were sparkling. "That is certainly a very pretty deception," said the doctor's friends ; carelessly, however, for they had witnessed greater miracles at a conjurer's show ; "pray how was it effected?" "Did you never hear of the 'Fountain of Youth'?" asked Dr. Heidegger, "which Ponce De Leon, the Spanish adventurer, went in search of two or three centuries ago ?" "But did Ponce De Leon ever find it?" said the Widow Wycherly. "No," answered Dr. Heidegger, "for he never sought it in the right place. The famous Fountain of Youth, if I am rightly informed, is situated in the southern part of the Floridan peninsula, not far from Lake Macaco. Its source is overshadowed by several gigantic magnolias, which, though numberless centuries old, have been kept as fresh as violets by the virtues of this wonderful water. An ac- DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT 139 quaintance of mine, knowing my curiosity in such matters, has sent me what you see in the vase." "Ahem!" said Colonel Killigrew, who believed not a word of the doctor's story ; "and what may be the effect of this fluid on the human frame?" "You shall judge for yourself, my dear colonel," re- plied Dr. Heidegger ; "and all of you, my respected friends, are welcome to so much of this admirable fluid as may re- store to you the bloom of youth. For my own part, having had much trouble in growing old, I am in no hurry to grow young again. With your permission, therefore, I will merely watch the progress of the experiment." While he spoke, Dr. Heidegger had been filling the four champagne glasses with the water of the Fountain of Youth. It was apparently impregnated with an effervescent gas, for little bubbles were continually ascending from the depths of the glasses, and bursting in silver spray at the surface. As the liquor diffused a pleasant perfume, the old people doubted not that it possessed cordial and comfortable properties ; and though utter skeptics as to its rejuvenescent power, they were inclined to swallow it at once. But Dr. Heidegger besought them to stay a moment. "Before you drink, my respectful old friends," said he, "it would be well that, with the experience of a lifetime to direct you, you should draw up a few general rules for the guidance, in passing a second time through the perils of youth. Think what a sin and shame it would be, if, with your peculiar advantages, you should not become patterns of virtue and wisdom to all the young people of the age!" The doctor's four venerable friends made him no an- swer, except by a feeble and tremulous laugh ; so very ridic- ulous was the idea that, knowing how closely repentance treads behind the steps of error, they should ever go astray again. "Drink, then," said the doctor, bowing. "I rejoice that I have so well selected the subjects of my experiment." With palsied hands, they raised the glasses to their lips. The liquor, if it really possessed such virtues as Dr. Heideg- i 4 o THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS ger imputed to it, could not have been bestowed on four human beings who needed it more wofully. They looked as if they had never known what youth or pleasure was, but had been the offspring of Nature's dotage, and always the gray, decrepit, sapless, miserable creatures, who now sat stooping round the doctor's table, without life enough in their souls or bodies to be animated even by the prospect of growing young again. They drank off the water, and replaced their glasses on the table. Assuredly there was an almost immediate improvement in the aspect of the party, not unlike what might have been produced by a glass of generous wine, together with a sud- den glow of cheerful sunshine brightening over all their visages at once. There was a healthful suffusion on their cheeks, instead of the ashen hue that had made them look so corpse-like. They gazed at one another, and fancied that some magic power had really begun to smooth away the deep and sad inscription which Father Time had been so long engraving on their brows. The Widow Wycherly adjusted her cap, for she felt almost like a woman again. "Give us more of this wondrous water!" cried they eagerly. "We are younger — but we are still too old ! Quick — give us more !" "Patience, patience!" quoth Dr. Heidegger, who sat watching the experiment with philosophic coolness. "You have been a long time growing old. Surely, you might be content to grow young in half an hour ! But the water is at your service." Again he filled their glasses with the liquor of youth, enough of which still remained in the' vase to turn half the people in the city to the age of their own grandchildren. While the bubbles were yet sparkling on the brim, the doc- tor's four guests snatched their glasses from the table, and swallowed the contents at a single gulp. Was it delusion? Even while the draught was passing down their throats, it seemed to have wrought a change on their whole systems. Their eyes grew clear and bright ; a dark shade deepened among their silvery locks, they sat around the table, three DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT 14I gentlemen of middle age, and a woman, hardly beyond her buxom prime. "My dear widow, you are charming!" cried Colonel Killigrew, whose eyes had been fixed upon her face, while the shadows of age were flitting from it like darkness from the crimson daybreak. f The fair widow knew, of old, that Colonel Killigrew s compliments were not always measured by sober truth ; so she started up and ran to the mirror, still dreading that the ugly visage of an old woman would meet her gaze. Mean- while, the three gentlemen behaved in such a manner as proved that the water of the Fountain of Youth possessed some intoxicating qualities ; unless, indeed, their exhilaration of spirits was merely a lightsome dizziness, caused by the sudden removal of the weight of years. Mr. Gascoigne's mind seemed to run on political topics, but whether relating to the past, present, or future, could not easily be deter- mined, since the same ideas and phrases have been in vogue these fifty years. Now he rattled forth full-throated sen- tences about patriotism, national glory, and the people's right ; now he muttered some perilous stuff or another, in a sly and doubtful whisper, so cautiously that even his own conscience could scarcely catch the secret ; and now, again, he spoke in measured accents, and a deeply deferential tone, as if a royal ear were listening to his well-turned periods. Colonel Killigrew all this time had been trolling forth a jolly bottle song, and swinging his glass in symphony with the chorus, while his eyes wandered toward the buxom figure of the Widow Wycherly. On the other side of the table, Mr. Medbourne was involved in a calculation of dol- lars and cents, with which was strangely intermingled a project for supplying the East Indies with ice, by harnessing a team of whales to the polar icebergs. As for the Widow Wycherly, she stood before the mirror courtesying and simpering to her own image, and greeting it as the friend whom she loved better than all the world beside. She thrust her face close to the glass, to see whether some long-remembered wrinkle or cow's foot had 142 THE SHRINE OF /ESCULAPIUS indeed vanished. She examined whether the snow had so entirely melted from her hair that the venerable cap could be safely thrown aside. At last, turning briskly away, she came with a sort of dancing step to the table. "My dear old doctor," cried she, "pray favor me with another glass!" "Certainly, my dear madam, certainly!" replied the complaisant doctor ; "see ! I have already filled the glasses." There, in fact, stood the four glasses, brimful of this wonderful water, the delicate spray of which, as it effer- vesced from the surface, resembled the tremulous glitter of diamonds. It was now so nearly sunset that the chamber had grown duskier than ever ; but a mild and moonlike splendor gleamed from within the vase, and rested alike on the four guests and on the doctor's venerable figure. He sat in a high-backed, elaborately-carved, oaken arm-chair, with a gray dignity of aspect that might have well befitted that very Father Time, whose power had never been dis- puted, save by this fortunate company. Even while quaffing the third draught of the Fountain of Youth, they were almost awed by the expression of his mysterious visage. But, the next moment, the exhilarating gush of young life shot through their veins. They were now in the happy prime of youth. Age, with its miserable train of cares and sorrows and diseases, was remembered only as the trouble of a dream, from which they had joyously awoke. The fresh gloss of the soul, so early lost, and without which the world's successive scenes had been but a gallery of faded pictures, again threw its enchantment over all their prospects. They felt like new-created beings in a new-created universe. "We are young ! We are young !" they cried exultingly. Youth, like the extremity of age, had effaced the strong- marked characteristics of middle life, and mutually assimi- lated them all. They were a group of merry youngsters, almost maddened with the exuberant frolicsomeness of their years. The most singular effect of their gayety was an im- pulse to mock the infirmity and decrepitude of which they had so lately been the victims. They laughed loudly at their DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT 143 old-fashioned attire, the wide-skirted coats and flapped waistcoats of the young men, and the ancient cap and gown of the blooming girl. One limped across the floor like a gouty grandfather; one set a pair of spectacles astride of his nose, and pretended to pore over the black letter pages of the book of magic ; a third seated himself in an arm- chair, and strove to imitate the venerable dignity of Dr. Heidegger. Then all shouted mirthfully, and leaped about the room. The Widow Wycherly — if so fresh a damsel could be called a widow — tripped up to the doctor's chair, with a mischievous merriment in her rosy face. "Doctor, you dear old soul," cried she, "get up and dance with me !" And then the four young people laughed louder than ever, to think what a queer figure the poor old doctor would cut. "Pray excuse me," answered the doctor quietly. "I am old and rheumatic, and my dancing days were over long ago. But either of these gay young gentlemen will be glad of so pretty a partner." "Dance with me, Clara !" cried Colonel Killigrew. "No, no, I will be her partner !" shouted Mr. Gascoigne. "She promised me her hand, fifty years ago !" exclaimed Mr. Medbourne. They all gathered round her. One caught both her hands in his passionate grasp — another threw his arms about her waist — the third buried his hand among the glossy curls that clustered beneath the widow's cap. Blushing, panting, struggling, chiding, laughing, her warm breath fanning each of their faces by turns, she strove to disengage herself, yet still remained in their triple embrace. Never was there a livelier picture of youthful rivalship, with be- witching beauty for the prize. Yet, by a strange deception, owing to the duskiness of the chamber, and the antique dresses which they still wore, the tall mirror is said to have reflected the figures of the three old, gray, withered grand- sires, ridiculously contending for the skinny ugliness of a shriveled grandam. But they were young; their burning passions proved 144 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS them so. Inflamed to madness by the coquetry of the girl- widow, who neither granted nor quite withheld her favors, the three rivals began to interchange threatening glances. Still keeping hold of the fair prize, they grappled fiercely at one another's throats. As they struggled to and fro, the table was overturned, and the vase dashed into a thousand fragments. The precious Water of Youth flowed in a bright stream across the floor, moistening the wings of a butterfly, which, grown old in the decline of the summer, had alighted there to die. The insect fluttered lightly through the chamber, and settled on the snowy head of Dr. Heidegger. "Come, come, gentlemen! — come, Madam Wycherly," exclaimed the doctor, "I really must protest against this riot." They stood still and shivered ; for it seemed as if gray Time were calling them back from their sunny youth, far down into the chill and darksome vale of years. They looked at old Dr. Heidegger, who sat in his carved arm-chair, hold- ing the rose of half a century, which he had rescued from among the fragments of the shattered vase. At the motion of his hand, the four rioters resumed their seats ; the more readily, because their violent exertions had wearied them, youthful though they were. "My poor Sylvia's rose!" ejaculated Dr. Heidegger, holding it in the light of the sunset clouds; "it appears to be fading again." And so it was. Even while the party were looking at it, the flower continued to shrivel up, till it became as dry and fragile as when the doctor had first thrown it into the vase. He shook off the few drops of moisture which clung to its petals. "I love it as well thus as in its dewy freshness," ob- served he, pressing the withered rose to his withered lips. While he spoke, the butterfly fluttered down from the doc- tor's snowy head, and fell upon the floor. His guests shivered again. A strange dullness, whether of the body or spirit they could not tell, was creeping over DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT 145 them all. They gazed at one another, and fancied that each fleeting moment snatched away a charm, and left a deepen- ing furrow where none had been before. Was it an illusion ? Had the changes of a lifetime been crowded into so brief a space, and were they now four aged people, sitting with their old friend, Dr. Heidegger? "Are we grown old again, so soon?" cried they, dole- fully. In truth they had. The Water of Youth possessed merely a virtue more transient than that of wine. The delirium which it created had effervesced away. Yes ! they were old again. With a shuddering impulse, that showed her a woman still, the widow clasped her skinny hands be- fore her face, and wished that the coffin lid were over it, since it could be no longer beautiful. "Yes, friends, we are old again," said Dr. Heidegger, "and lo ! the Water of Youth is all lavished on the ground. Well — I bemoan it not; for if the fountain gushed at my very doorstep, I would not stoop to bathe my lips in it — no, though its delirium were for years instead of moments. Such is the lesson ye have taught me!" But the doctor's four friends had taught no such lesson to themselves. They resolved forthwith to make a pilgrim- age to Florida, and quaff at morning, noon, and night, from the Fountain of Youth. FIRST AID TO THE INJURED BY W, G. VAN TASSEL SUTPHEN 147 FIRST AID TO THE INJURED A Farce in One Act Characters Represented Miss Belle Cheviot, Miss Sally Driver, Miss Grace Lofter, Miss Charlotte Brassie, Mr. Jack Hazard, Dr. Austin Cheviot. Scene. — The hall of the Peconic Bay Golf Club. Prac- ticable French window at L. C. back. Entrances at R. C. back and L. Large table at R. C. Small table and large easy-chair at L. front. Small cabinet at R. front. Tele- phone at R. C. back. Time, morning. Miss Cheviot is discovered leaning against table at R. C. She is dressed in golf costume and holds a bundle of golf clubs. Miss C. (resolutely) : And I continue to prefer a straight-faced driver; the bulger "pulls" the ball. (Looking over L.) Gone ! And without another word ! I will never forgive him — never! never! [She sinks into a chair at R. and puts her handkerchief to her eyes. Enter Dr. Cheviot, L. He carries a morocco- covered medicine-chest. ~\ Dr. C. (crossing over R.) : Hello! Is that you, Belle? Miss C. (whipping away her handkerchief) : Austin ! I didn't know you were back. Dr. C. (coming down) : I came in on the early train. (Offering to kiss her) How are you? Miss C. (avoiding him) : Please don't — never before luncheon, you know. Dr. C. (laughing and walking away) : Oh, I don't mind — being your brother. Miss C. (irritably) : I do wish you would be quiet, 149 ISO THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS Austin; it's perfectly maddening the way your boots creak. Dr. C. (looking at her curiously) : You seem a trifle upset this morning. Has anything happened ? Miss C. : Of course not. How absurd you are! Dr. C. : I met Hazard outside just now. Miss C. (defiantly) : Well? Dr. C. : There is something wrong between you two, and I propose to inquire into it. Have you been foolish enough — Miss C. (interrupting) : I can't see that it concerns you at all, but since you take such a fraternal interest in my affairs you may as well know that our engagement is broken. Dr. C. : What ! Miss C. : It was all a mistake from the beginning, and fortunately we have found it out in time. Nobody was to blame; it is nobody's fault. We have parted, and that is the end of it. Dr. C. : But, Belle- Miss C. (interrupting) : My dear brother, allow me to remind you again that this is entirely my own affair. There is absolutely nothing more to say. Dr. C. (shortly) : Oh, very well; I suppose we will have to fall back upon golf, as usual. Miss C. (loftily) : It is the mark of a small mind to despise what it cannot appreciate. If it hadn't been for golf- Dr. C. (sotto voce) : You would still be engaged to Jack Hazard. Miss C. (absently) : But that is all over now. (Look- ing over R.) I suppose that you have your absurd class in "First Aid to the Injured" this morning. Dr. C. (warmly) : I can't see anything absurd about it; but of course your business is to break hearts, not to mend them. I shouldn't like to hear of Jack's taking a dose of poison after what has happened this morning. (Gloom- ily) You wouldn't have the faintest idea what to do for him. FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 151 Miss C. (lightly) : I don't think the contingency a likely one. Men don't do that sort of thing nowadays. Dr. C. : No ; the women are not worth it. Miss C. : And the club brandy and soda answers the same purpose in the end. (Picking up her golf clubs and going up ) You might say to Mr. Hazard that I expect to make the course in eighty-two or under, and that I shall use a straight-faced driver. The bulger "PULLS" the ball. [Exit by window, L. C. back. Dr. C. : Poor Jack ! It's just that little difference be- tween a straight-faced and a bulger driver that has sepa- rated them. A miserable eighth of an inch, and yet as wide as the world. [Mr. Jack Hazard enters L. He is dressed in golf costume and carries a deck.] Jack (with a hasty look around) : Gone! And with- out another word ! Dr. C. (turning) : That you, Jack? Jack: Don't let me disturb you. (Taking a golf ball from his pocket and proceeding to "address" it ) We have an indoors course now, you know, and the inkstand is the last hole. Fore! (Makes tzvo or three ineffectual attempts to hit the ball.) It's no use, I can't keep my eye on the ball this morning. Dr. C. (putting his hand on Hazard's shoulder) : See here, old man, I'm awfully sorry about this affair. Jack (with a gulp) : Oh, I dare say I was a bit too positive. (Plaintively ) Only a bulger doesn't "pull" the ball if you hold it right. Dr. C. : Of course, everybody understands that. Jack (mournfully) : If she had only let me explain. Dr. C. (sympathetically): Exactly. (Apart) What fools these golfers be! Jack : But I mustn't stay here ; you're going to have your class, I suppose. (Uncertainly) I think I'll go and work up my "putting" a bit ; it's my weak point, you know. (Brightening up) You can get a tremendous lot of practise with a tumbler on the billiard-room floor. 152 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS Dr. C. : Yes; that's a capital idea; it'll do you no end of good, and, by the way, Jack, I know you're not a drink- ing man, but I brought down with me some particularly choice stuff — "St. Nicholas Club, Private Stock," you know. (Crossing over to a cabinet) I keep it in here, and if you feel inclined for a nip, help yourself. (Smiling) Don't scare at the label ; it won't hurt you. Jack (going) : Thanks, very much, but I seldom in- dulge. I find it's apt to make me a little wild in my "ap- proach." (At door, L.) I can make that perfectly plain about the "bulger" any time you like. You might tell your sister what I said about this "pulling" the ball. Dr. C. (shaking his head) : I'm afraid that Cupid has no chance against the caddie. [He bends over the table at R. C. Enter at R. C. back Miss Grace Lofter, Miss Charlotte Brassie, and Miss Sally Driver. They wear white caps and large aprons, and each has an immense note-book.] Sally (coming down) : Good morning, Doctor Cheviot. Dr. C. (looking up) : Oh, there you are. (He passes by Sally, who holds out her hand, and offers his to Grace.) Good morning, Miss Lofter. (Aside) Am I to have my an- swer to-day? (Aloud) How do you do, Miss Brassie? (Shakes hands) And you, too, Miss Driver? It's very nice to see you all again, and to be able to resume our lessons. (Looking around) But where are the rest — Mrs. Bunker and Miss Niblick and the others? Sally: Oh, as for Miss Niblick — [She stops and giggles.] Dr. C. (puzzled): Well? Sally: It is really very unfortunate, but she is quite upset about poor Mr. Foozle. Dr. C. : Indeed ; nothing serious, I hope ? Sally : Oh, I don't think so. Dr. Cleek, who is in at- tendance, says that it is merely an aggravated case of "First Aid to the Injured," and that he hopes to make it all right in time. But poor Anna is nearly distracted to think that she had put it on wrong. FIRST AID TO THE INJURED iS3 Dr. C. : Put it on wrong ! What are you talking about ? Sally: Why, his hand. You see, he slipped on the smooth grass at the "Punch-bowl" hole and dislocated his wrist. Miss Niblick was very cool, and reduced it all by herself, only she made a mistake and put it back this way. [She illustrates her meaning by twisting her hand around and back upon her wrist.] Dr. C. : Great Heavens ! Charlotte: She explained to Dr. Geek that you had told her how to do it. Dr. C.:I? Sally : She had it all drawn out with diagrams in her notes, only she happened to open the book upside down. Grace (sympathetically) : Dr. Cleek was very nice about it. He exonerated you entirely. Dr. C. (nervously walking up and down) : Too bad ! too bad ! I wouldn't have had it happen for anything. Charlotte: And as for the Putting-Green girls, it has served them just right. Dr. C. (resignedly) : What have they been doing? Charlotte: Why, they were both arrested day before yesterday over at Sandhurst, and fined twenty-five dollars apiece for practising medicine without a license. They are not coming to the class any longer. Dr. C (passing his handkerchief over his forehead) : Oh, dear ! This is very unfortunate. [Grace passes behind table and gives him a sympathetic hand.] Sally: I don't think that Mrs. Bunker will be here either. [She stops atid giggles.] Dr. C. (desperately) : Oh, go on; don't mind me. Sally: Well, you know how perfectly crazy she has been for some one to get half-drowned, so that she could try her hand at resuscitation— her specialty. Of course no one would oblige her ; it really wasn't to be expected ; so yesterday afternoon she persuaded Mr. Bunker to go in bathing with her. All at once there was a tremendous com- 154 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS motion, and Mr. Bunker disappeared. Everybody screamed and ran down to the beach. There was Mrs. Bunker still in the water, and looking as calm as you please, but no Mr. Bunker. It seemed like an age before the bathing-master found him and pulled him out, and then he was purple in the face, and had swallowed just quarts and quarts and quarts of nasty salty water. Dr. C. : Was he unconscious ? Sally : Oh, no ; but the dreadful part of it was that as soon as he could speak without choking he flatly accused Mrs. Bunker of deliberately tripping him up and then sit- ting on his head. He even intimated that it had something to do with the heavy life insurance policy that he had just taken out. Awful, wasn't it? Dr. C. (smiling involuntarily) : I should think so. Sally: He wouldn't give Mrs. Bunker any chance to explain, for of course she had intended to bring him to. Dr. C. : Of course. Charlotte: We were all perfectly sure of that. Sally : And the end of it was that he went right off to town to see about getting a divorce, and poor Mrs. Bun- ker is perfectly prostrated. Dr. C. (gravely) : Well, young ladies, this all goes to show that our work here must be taken seriously, or it had better be given up altogether. (Cheerfully) However, I expect better things of you who remain, and we must en- deavor to retrieve ourselves. Perhaps it would be well this morning to have a short oral examination on the subjects we have been over instead of the regular lecture. All (anxiously) : Examination! Dr. C. : Oh, it won't be very formidable. If you will kindly be seated. [They bring their chairs forward in front of the table. Dr. Cheviot seats himself behind it.] Dr. C. (looking up) : Remember now — simplicity, clear- ness, conciseness. (Referring to some memoranda) Per- haps Grace — er — Miss Lofter will kindly show us how to make a tourniquet. We will suppose that Miss Brassie has FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 155 severed an artery in her arm, and is rapidly bleeding to death. Please stand up, Miss Brassie. Now, then, Miss Lofter. [Grace, with a great show of professional skill, pro- ceeds to tie a scarlet ribbon across Charlotte's wrist.] Dr. C. : Above the cut, if you please. [Grace looks confused, and tries again.] Dr. C. {critically) : The bow is very tastefully made, but pardon me if I suggest that the object is to constrict and not necessarily to ornament the arm. I believe that I told you to employ a stout cord, and then by twisting with a small stick — Grace {nervously) : I beg your pardon. I had quite forgotten about the stick, but I think I can find one outside. [Goes over L.] Dr. C. {gravely) : I am afraid you are too late. The patient {looking at his watch) has been dead at least three minutes. Grace {falteringly) : I — I am so sorry. [She goes up with her handkerchief to her eyes.] Dr. C. {repentantly) : What a brute I am ! [He follows her up stage and whispers something in her ear.] Sally {sotto voce to Charlotte) : Somebody else was injured that time. Dr. C. {bringing Grace down) : It really doesn't make the slightest difference, not the least in the world. We're all liable to make mistakes ; I do it myself. Please don't think anything more about it. {Jocularly) I'll make all the neces- sary explanations to Miss Brassie's sorrowing family. Grace {smiling faintly) : Thank you so much. Dr. C. : Now let us begin again. Will you, Miss "Driver, indicate the proper treatment for a fainting turn? Sally {shutting note-book with a bang and reciting glibly) : Hold the patient firmly that he may not injure him- self during the paroxysms. In extreme cases pass a stout strap around the chest, confining the arms close to the body. 156 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS At short intervals hypodermic injections of weak water and water — no, weak brandy and brandy — Dr. C. : Pardon me, but for a faint. Sally (with a hasty glance at her book) : Oh, laws! that was for fits. I just happened to see the letter F, and of course I thought — he ! he ! he ! [She giggles unaffected enjoyment.] Dr. C. (annoyed) : Really, Miss Driver, this ill-timed levity (Apart) I'm devoutly thankful that old Dr. Cleek didn't hear that. (Aloud)Miss Driver, let me beg of you — [He sits back, frowning gloomily.] Sally (with unrestrained merriment): Ha! ha! "In extreme cases — paroxysms — hypodermic injections." Oh, doctor, it will kill me — he! he! he! he! (Recovering her- self) I'm sure I beg your pardon. Dr. C. (stiffly) : Oh, certainly. Sally (penitently) : It was all the fault of that odious letter F. I had them both on the same page, fits and faints, and — [She stuffs her handkerchief in her mouth, and bends over her book. Dr. Cheviot arranges his papers and pro- ceeds to boil within. A pause.] Dr. C. (to Charlotte, who has been studying atten- tively through everything) : Did you make a special study of any particular subject, Miss Brassie? Charlotte (looking up) : Yes ; I took the resuscitation of the drowned. Dr. C. : If you will be so kind, then, and please be very, very careful. [Sally involuntarily giggles, and Dr. Cheviot looks at her sternly.] Charlotte (speaking very slowly and distinctly) : Lay the patient upon his back so that the water in the mouth may run out. Dr. C (kindly) : You mean lay him upon his face. Charlotte (with dignity) : If you prefer it that way. (Continuing) Then turn him over, taking care to keep the chest depressed and the head slightly elevated. FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 157 Dr. C. {interrupting) : The head depressed and the chest elevated. Charlotte : Didn't I say that ? Dr. C. {shortly) : No. Charlotte {calmly) : I beg your pardon. {Continu- ing) Move the arms gently up and down so as to induce artificial refrigeration. Dr. C. {wearily) : Respiration, if you please. Charlotte {offended) : That's what I said. {Continu- ing) Finally, and this is of great importance: Roll the pa- tient upon a barrel. Dr. C {impatiently) : Do not roll upon a barrel. Charlotte {insistently) : You distinctly told us to roll him upon a barrel. Dr. C. {restraining himself) : Miss Brassie, I distinctly told you not to roll him upon a barrel. Charlotte {calmly argumentative) : I can show it to you in my note-book. [She offers him the book.] Dr. C. {waving it back) : But I tell you that your notes are wrong. Charlotte {coldly) : Do you wish me to correct them? Dr. C. : If you will be so good. Charlotte {with dignity) : Certainly. {She makes the correction) It now reads: "Do not roll upon a barrel." Is that satisfactory? Dr. C. : Perfectly. {Passing his handkerchief over his forehead) I think that will do for to-day. [The telephone bell rings violently.] Charlotte: But the patient is still unconscious. Dr. C. {rising and going up to telephone at R. C. back) : Excuse me ; it may be a call for me. {Answering) Yes ; this is Dr. Cheviot — what? Speak louder, please. {He strikes the side of the bar excitedly.) Hey! Say that again. {He listens with a horror-stricken countenance.) Very well, I'll come. {He hangs up the receiver and comes down slowly. Speaking with great deliberation.) May I inquire which one 158 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS of you young ladies prescribed this morning for old Mr. Dormie's sore throat? [The girls look at each other but no one speaks.] Dr. C. (still icily deliberate) : Fortunately Mr. Dormie didn't take the prescription himself; he tried it on Mrs. Stymie's pug dog. Mr. Dormie is now feeling very thank- ful, as the wretched animal immediately turned green about the mouth and went into a fit. (Sarcastically) Perhaps Miss Driver would like to attend the case. (Going to the table and taking his hat) I suppose I must do what I can, though I don't think there is much chance. (Going up and speaking with suppressed agitation) As it happens, Mrs. Stymie was my one rich patient, and that dog was worth fifteen hundred dollars a year to me. (Bowing) Ladies, I have the honor to bid you a very good morning. [Exit R. C. back. Sally (jumping up) : Well, of all the rude, nasty — Grace (stopping her) : Girls, I did that. Sally and Charlotte : Yon ! Grace (despairingly) : Yes, I. Sally (explosively) : Why couldn't Mr. Dormie have taken the medicine himself? Horrid old suspicious thing. Charlotte: I'm sure he wasn't worth fifteen hundred dollars a year to anybody. Sally (mournfully) : Fifteen hundred dollars a year ! You can never make that up to him, even though you are an heiress. There's no way in which he could take it. Charlotte (at window) : I do believe that Belle is breaking the record. Such a crowd following her — she's just going to drive. [Exit, L. C. back. Sally (bolting out) : You don't say! [Exit hastily, L. C. back. Grace (with sudden resolution) : But there is a way, and I shall take it. [Hazard appears at door, L., with a bulger driver and a large Hie.] Jack : Beg pardon — thought the class was over. FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 159 [Enters slowly.] Grace (going) : So it is, and I am just going — to an- nounce my engagement to Dr. Cheviot. Jack (shaking hands) : I'm awfully glad, Miss Lofter. You don't play golf, do you? Grace (going up) : No, I don't know a cleek from a clam. Jack : And neither does Cheviot. (Holding open door at R. C. back) Never learn, as you value your eternal hap- piness. Never! never! never! (Grace exit, R. C. back. Jack comes down.) Yes, they'll be happy as the day is long. (Filing away at the club) I'm changing all my bulgers to stright-faced ones, but I'm afraid it's too late now. (Walking up and down nerv- ously) Hang it all ! I must get something to tone me up a bit. (Desperately) I'll have some of Austin's whis- key, even if it should ruin my "iron-play." (He goes to the cabinet at R. C. and takes out a bottle and glasses. He pours out a drink and places the bottle on small table at L. C. so as to conceal the label from the sight of the audience. He seats himself in easy-chair at L. C. front. Drinks.) That isn't bad whiskey. I rather think that it might improve my "iron-play." (After a moment's pause) It seems rather warm in here. (Closing his eyes) Very warm. [He sleeps. Sounds of hand-clapping and applause heard from without. Miss Cheviot appears at windoiv, L. C. back.] Miss C (speaking off) : I'm going to put my score up. (She enters, and comes down, waving her score card tri- umphantly.) I've done it — broke the record. (Stopping, and looking around) What have they done with the bulletin board? (She catches sight of the bottle standing on the table.) What's that? (She suddenly snatches up the bottle with a face of horror. ) Oh, never ! It can't be ! ( Glancing at Hazard asleep in the chair) Jack, and unconscious already ! Oh, what shall I do ? Help ! Help ! (Running Wp to window at L. C. back, and beckoning frantically.). Grace ! Sally ! Charlotte ! i(5o THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS [Grace, Sally, and Charlotte appear at windows, L. C. back.] Sally (entering) : Belle! What is it? [The others follow her in.] Miss C. (pointing to bottle) : There ! [The girls are horror-stricken.] Miss C. : Tell me — tell me — [She is unable to proceed.] Sally (recovering herself) : We must keep our heads. Charlotte, your note-book! [Miss Cheviot kneels at Hazard's right and begins to chafe his hand. Grace nervously ties a succession of tour- niquets on his left arm. Charlotte anxiously turns the leaves of her note-book, with Sally looking over her shoul- der.] Sally (coming down): Grace! run, quick — the doc- tor! (To Charlotte) Have you found it — the treatment? [Grace exit hastily, L. C. back.] Charlotte (calmly) : Yes, and I will take charge of the case. Let us all keep perfectly cool. (Consulting book) Is the patient still unconscious ? [Hazard has opened his eyes and is looking about him in blank astonishment.] Miss C. (pressing his hand to her heart) : Jack ! Oh, Jack! Jack: Belle! [He tries to rise, but Sally holds him down.] Miss C. (hysterically) : Jack, dearest Jack, do you really know me? Jack (incredidously) : It must be all a dream. [Closes his eyes.] Charlotte (decisively) : We mustn't let him get un- conscious again. Burn some feathers, Sally. Pull his hair, Belle! Well, if you won't I will. (She does so.) Jack (opening his eyes) : Ouch! (Sees Miss Chev- iot) Belle! Is it really you? Miss C. (anxiously) : You mustn't say a word, dear. We're doing everything we can for you. FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 161 Jack: All right. Keep hold of my hand, and I'll be like a lamb. Charlotte: Never mind the feathers, Sally. Here, take the book while I prepare the antidote. [She goes to the table and pours out a dose.] Jack (with some uneasiness) : But won't you tell me — Miss C. : Hush ! hush ! Please, dear Jack. Charlotte (administering the dose) : There! [She manages to spill it all over him.] Sally (snatching up the medicine -bottle) : Charlotte ! What have you done? You've given him twenty drops of strychnine instead of the antidote. Jack (cheerfully) : No, you haven't — it all went down my collar. Charlotte (severely) : Well, it can't be helped now. You would move your head around. Oh, I knew I'd for- gotten something. We must get him upon his head at once. Sally (reading from book) : "Get the patient upon his feet as quickly as possible." Charlotte (unwilling to yield the point) : I'm sure the doctor said head. Sally: Well, look for yourself. (Thrusting the book into Charlotte's hand) We must do something. Take hold of his arm, Belle. [Miss Cheviot and Sally assist Jack to rise.] Charlotte (consulting notes) : I am certain that I am right. Sally (resolutely) : Take his other arm, Charlotte, and I'll push behind. We must keep him moving. Jack (disposed to resist) : Oh, I say, now! Miss C. (pleadingly) : Jack ! for my sake. Jack (submitting) : All right, only keep hold of my hand. [The quartet cross over and back, Salty pushing from behind.] Sally (breathlessly) : Keep him moving, keep him moving. 162 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS Jack (at the top of his voice) : But what is this all about? I will know! Charlotte (with dignity) : Since you insist upon it, Mr. Hazard — you are poisoned. Jack (horror-stricken) : POISONED ! But I don't insist upon it. Miss C. (pulling him along) : Oh, Jack ! dear Jack ! Sally (pushing) : Keep him moving, keep him mov- ing. [Enter Dr. Cheviot, in haste, L. C. back.] Dr. C. (running down) : What's all this? Jack pois- oned ! Impossible ! Let me see him. Sally: Of course he is. Look here. (She snatches up the zvhiskey-bottle and reads the label aloud.) "LAUDA- NUM! A DEADLY POISON! TAKE CARE!" Dr. C. (taking the bottle): Oh! (He pulls out the cork and sniffs at it. ) Exactly ; it's my own particular pri j vate poison. Jack (puzzled) : Why, you gave it to me yourself. Dr. C. : Of course I did, and I told you not to scare at the label. I don't propose to have my "St. Nicholas Club Private Stock" sampled by everybody in the club. All: Oh! Sally (indignantly) : It's a beastly shame; that's what it is. [She joins Charlotte, who is still reading her note- book.] Dr. C. : You should stick to fits, Miss Driver. [He goes up and joins Grace, who enters, L. C. back.] Jack (turning)'. Belle! Miss C. : Don't say another word ; it was all my fault. Jack (tenderly) : I was too hasty. And perhaps a "bulger" does "pull" the ball. I've changed all mine to straight-faced. Miss C. : Don't, Jack ; I can't bear it. I've — I've just broken the record. Jack (admiringly) : Broken the record! FIRST AID TO THE INJURED 163 Miss C. (contritely) : Yes, by two strokes ; and — and — I did it with a brassie bulger. Oh, Jack ! [She buries her face on his shoulder.] Dr. C. (coming down with Grace) : My dearest, there's just one thing more. Grace (looking down) : Yes. Dr. C. : I pulled the pug through, after all, and Mrs. Stymie is profoundly grateful. My practise there will be worth two thousand five hundred dollars in the future. Perhaps now — that is, under the present circumstances — your answer — Grace (giving him her hand) : It is still the same. Charlotte (looking up) : Could we have done any more, doctor ? It was impossible to get Mr. Hazard on his head. Sally (sarcastically) : And he simply would NOT take the twenty drops of strychnine. Dr. C. (turning) : My dear young ladies, you have handled the case to perfection, and I congratulate you with all my heart. For even if you were not actually called upon to save life, you have at least succeeded in making it worth living for two miserable bachelors, who cannot thank you enough for your prompt and efficient tender of First Aid to the Injured. [All join hands and bow profoundly.] Miss C. Jack. Sally. Charlotte. Dr. Cheviot. Grace. CURTAIN. NATHAN BONE'S SKELETONS BY ANTHONY KIRBY GILL 165 NATHAN BONE'S SKELETONS (Period 1779) «T71HAT happened to Nathan Bone," began Castle- ^^ bridge, in his peculiarly deliberate manner, as we SEgj were sitting round the hearth in the Banqueting Sail Chamber at Bathersberry Hall one night, "was told me by somebody who knew him as well as anybody did ; but as he cannot correctly be said to have been known at all, this, perhaps, is not saying much. Bone was an antiquarian, and a learned man, it is believed. No one knew where he came from; no one knew who he really was. No doubt he was a little mad. His ways were not the ways of other men, and his peculiarities were too pro- nounced to be merely such. He never spoke to any one, with the exception of a niece of his, who lived with him. No matter where he was, no matter what happened, he would never exchange a single word with anybody but this niece— not even with his housekeeper, who was rather good- looking, and who secretly doted on him. Daisy— that was his niece's name— was a girl of twenty-three, exceedingly pretty, and naturally had a lover. He was tolerably well- to-do, 'tis said, and was dying to marry her. But the antiquarian would not hear of it. He swore that she should never marry, with his consent, as long as he lived. And the worst of it was, he was so remarkably hale and hearty that he promised to live another forty years, at the very least "The lover, whose name was Ralph Thompson, was a fellow of some spirit, and consequently used to press the girl to run off with him. Daisy, however, persisted in saying that she would never marry him, save with her uncle's con- sent, even if she had to wait fifty years; and so, what with 167 i68 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS one thing and another, you can easily imagine the fix that they were in. "Thompson, of course, had interviews with the anti- quarian : told him how he loved his niece, how he wished to marry her, and how happy he would make them if he would only give in. But it was no use whatever. In the first place, Nathan Bone never used to answer a word ; and in the second place, he never used to listen. Of course Thompson was not allowed to enter the house; and if by any chance the two met anywhere Bone would scowl at him, and wave him aside as he would an importunate beggar. "But sometimes, when he was out hunting up old fossils, or purchasing musty old curios, his niece would accompany her lover to his house, where she was always most favor- ably received by his parents, and where they no doubt made up for a little of their misfortune, as was only natural. How long this state of things would have lasted nobody can tell. How long it did last almost everybody knows. "On a Christmas Eve Bone was always in a bad humor ; and on the Christmas Eve that this affair happened he was more than usually so. He had been up to London for two days, and had returned by the coach, which was naturally crowded, and Bone hated a crowd. What was more, the people were all talking about the holidays, and the capital times before them, wishing one another a happy Christmas, and telling each other all sorts of uninteresting little things about themselves, as people will do at this time of the year ; and one of the inside passengers was taking home a turkey, and as it was hanging up beside the driver's seat, he was particularly anxious about it, and kept getting out to ex- amine it every time the coach stopped. Then there was a man sitting next to him who kept making funny remarks, at which everybody laughed very much. All these little things annoyed Bone, who maintained a contemptuous silence the whole way. And then, as if this was not already enough, he found, when he got home, that his niece had decorated the rooms with holly and evergreen and made it look almost cheerful. This naturally upset him still more, NATHAN BONE'S SKELETONS i6g for he had a great antipathy to everything cheerful; and, last of all, the waifs came and played, and sang Christmas carols in front of the house until he drove them away by emptying cold water over them. "Then in a thoroughly bad humor, he went upstairs to the room in which he kept his curios. It was now a quarter to twelve. Daisy happened to glance at the clock, and noticed the time. It was not a large room, but it was very old-fashioned, and was stocked with the most extraordinary things — fossils, shells, pieces of old armor, bones of pre- historic animals and birds, green snakes coiled up in bottles, skulls of criminals, coins, weapons, pieces of pottery, and the fossil of a cat. In fact, one might have taken it for a curiosity shop. But Bone was the only one who ever en- tered it, so that that made no difference. He used to spend most of his time here, though what he did is still a mystery. Some said that he was something of a magician ; others that he had great hoards of money hidden away somewhere in this room, and that he used to come here at night to take it out and gloat over it. But it is no use repeating all the things that he was said to be. He had brought a long, narrow box with him from town, which he had himself carried up to this room. What was in it, Daisy and the servants could not imagine. And no doubt you will think it strange when I tell you that it contained a skeleton. What he wanted it for, goodness only knows. Already there was one grinning thing in the room. Anyhow, the fact remains that he bought another, and I believe, bought it because of the fearful grin that it had. "When he had locked the door, he began to open the box, and he soon discovered that the jolting of the coach had caused one of the skeleton's legs to come unfastened. It was not broken; it had merely become detached at the joint. He picked the skeleton up in his arms, carried it across the room, and stood it up by means of an appliance which fitted round the thing's neck. This done, he stepped back and looked at it. He had forgotten to light the candles, and the only light in the room came from the fire. When i;o THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS he had surveyed the thing long enough, he went to the hearth, took up the poker, and began to stir the logs ; and he was still bending down, with his back to the skeleton, when twelve o'clock sounded. No sooner had it done so than a hollow voice exclaimed : " 'Now then, there ! Look sharp with that fire.' "Bone was not a man to be easily startled. But this voice, on account of its unearthly sound, fairly made him jump. He dropped the poker, and faced round. There was nobody to be seen. He was alone in the room. Not a sound was to be heard. " 'Come along ! come along !' the voice went on. "And if you will believe me," said Castlebridge, look- ing round upon us very seriously, "it was that skeleton speaking. It was, indeed. Bone began to tremble. He stared hard at the thing, and the thing stared back at him out of its eyeless sockets. The firelight flickered upon its head. Where its eyes had once been were two deep, shadowy cavities. Its grinning face looked frightful. " 'Do you hear ?' it cried, beginning to move a little. "'What's the matter?' said Bone, stepping back a few paces. " 'Matter !' said the skeleton indignantly, — 'why a good deal. Where's my other leg?' " 'In the box," replied Bone. " 'Oh, indeed !' said the skeleton ironically. 'In the box, is it ! And what's it doing there ?' " 'I haven't had time to put it on yet,' said Bone, very much startled : for it was the first time in his life that he had ever talked with a skeleton. " 'And what business have you ever had to take it off, I should like to know ?' " 'I didn't take it off,' Bone replied. 'It came off.' " 'Came off !' repeated the skeleton indignantly. 'Odds graves and gibbets ! then bring it here, and put it on again ; and undo this cranked thing at the back of my neck !' " 'Strange !' muttered Bone — 'strange !' "Nevertheless, he brought the skeleton's other leg from rp with that I ■ .one in the ro !)n\ ('// i/--( <>/-s- r.i /.v/c ; ^B^^~ 1 1 1 jJi3 1 -^^ W^^'9^ ' ■■ ■ imk :;.; ; 1p ! BH ■ ■■ ■ ■■ ■ ^SJ^SfiH & i f& |pj* J# » :tf; : ' NATHAN BONE'S SKELETONS m the box and fastened it on, keeping his eye on the thing the while to see that it did not do him any mischief; and then he unscrewed the fastening which held it to the wall. " 'That's it,' said the skeleton, moving its head from side to side. 'Now help me to that chair by the fire. Stay ! First of all, have a look at my joints.' "Bone lit a candle, and did as he was requested. 'This left knee's a bit shaky,' he said. " 'I'm shaky all over, it strikes me !' said the skeleton. " 'I'll just put a fresh bit of wire round this articula- tion ; then I think you'll do,' said Bone. 'You've got a bit chipped off the top of your tibia. That's what makes it feel so loose. I shouldn't bend too much, if I were you,' he added, as the skeleton stooped to look at its legs. 'Your back isn't very first-rate.' " 'What's the matter with it ?' asked the skeleton testily. " 'Well, it's beginning to crumble a little in places,' said Bone. 'You're a bone short, too, in the dorsal region, I see.' " 'Ah !' said the skeleton nervously, — 'ah ! I hope this room is fairly dry.' " T hope so too,' said Bone. " 'I don't think that journey did me any good,' the skeleton observed thoughtfully. " T don't think it did,' said Bone. 'Just hold on to something a minute, will you? while I put this knee to rights. That's it. Now let's see how you work.' " 'Be careful !' said the skeleton, as Bone began to move the lower part of the leg backwards and forwards. " 'It's all right,' replied Bone ; 'I've got hold of you. Now then ; see if you can walk.' "The skeleton took a couple of steps, then stopped. " 'This right hip- joint works very stiffly/ it said. " 'I'll look it over in a minute,' said Bone. Tt's the head of the trochanter, I'm afraid. It's a bit worn, I fancy. You sit down here and keep quiet ; and don't you lean back more than you can help.' i 7 2 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS " 'I won't/ said the skeleton. 'Odds gallows and graves ! how I do creak, to be sure !' "And then down it sat in the chair, and Bone unfas- tened its right leg and took it off and examined it. In order to do this properly he was obliged to light the other candles ; and no sooner had he done so than he was startled to hear a second voice, which was even more hollow and more unearthly than the first. " 'What an extraordinary thing !' it said gravely. " 'The devil ! the devil !' exclaimed the antiquarian, starting. " 'Pardon me,' said the second skeleton slowly ; for upon my word, it was that one talking now. " 'I must be crazy,' muttered Bone to himself; 'I must be crazy.' " 'I was about to observe,' the second skeleton went on, 'that I am surprised to meet an old friend here. . . . Who'd expect to see Adam Goodman after all these years ?' "Now, when this name was mentioned, the first skele- ton gave a bit of a start, and turned half round in its chair. In doing so, one of its arms dropped off. " 'Who mentioned Adam Goodman's name ?' it said, looking as surprised as it is possible for a skeleton to look. " 'I did,' replied the second skeleton. And then, I am told, without the least assistance it stepped down from its box and walked over to the hearth, and stood before the other one. " 'Will Draggs, the hangman!' exclaimed the first, look- ing very much taken aback. " 'The same,' replied the other. " 'Why, it gives me quite a turn to see you again !' gasped the first skeleton, shaking a little. " 'I dare say it does.' "And the second skeleton sat down in the chair opposite, making a gruesome creaking noise as it did so, that was hor- rible to listen to. Bone did not speak a word. He sat down on a stool between the two ; and there he stopped till the end. " 'I was wishing I could come across you somewhere or NATHAN BONE'S SKELETONS 173 other/ the second skeleton observed, after a short pause. 'I've got a secret to tell you.' " 'What's that?' said the other. " 'It's about that little affair you were hanged for,' said the second skeleton, very slowly. " 'I didn't murder him !' said the first skeleton. " 'No. But you were hanged for it. . . . And I hanged you.' " 'So you did, so you did !' said the first skeleton. 'Still, I didn't murder him.' "There was a pause. Then the second skeleton said : " 'I know it.' "'Eh?' " 'I know it.' " 'How do you know it ?' "The second skeleton stared at the other for a full min- ute, its ghastly grin quite terrifying old Bone. Then it said : 'Because I did.' " 'You murdered him !' " 'Ay.' "There was another pause. " 'Well, that is odd !' said the first skeleton, at last. " 'So I thought when I was arranging your drop. I gave you a good drop, I remember — a very good drop.' " 'So you did, so you did ! . . . And to think we should be sitting here now, talking it over !' " 'Ah ! It's of no consequence now, of course. But it's pleasant to talk of old times again. And I feel a deal easier now that I've told you. It used to worry me at times, espe- cially after I came into my money, and took a house there on the Dover road.' " 'Very odd it was, to be sure !' said the first skeleton. 'I wonder where he is now. I've kept a good look out for him, but I haven't come across him yet. I rather fancy he's scattered around a bit — a leg here and a leg there, so to speak.' " 'Perhaps so. I shouldn't wonder at it at all. . . " "'But what the thunder did you kill him for? He 174 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS seemed as fine a young gentleman as breathed, if I remem- ber rightly — though, to be sure, he was a little haughty in his ways.' " 'A little too haughty, Adam, to please me — just a little too haughty, Adam. And when he called me a vile knave, as he strode out of your inn, I disliked it. It dis- pleased me. He had cursed you for a swindling varlet, if you remember, because you had tried to palm off some of your cheap wine on him — I never could stand that cheap wine of yours myself, Adam — and you answered pretty hotly, as we all of us heard. So when I followed him out, after seeing you leave the premises, and knowing you would be away a full hour, I knew, too, well enough, that when he was found there would be some that would call to mind your words. And so they did. ... He had some spirit, I must allow. He was little more than a boy, too, and — would you believe it, — was going off to join his bride. Damme ! the young rascal had made a clandestine marriage, and the girl was expecting him that night at Reading! . . . He passed up the road towards the old turnpike. I rather fancy he must have mistaken his way. What should he want up there ? . . . However, that didn't matter to me. Only I was a bit afraid that he would turn and come back again, which of course, would have made it devilish awkward. However, he didn't. He kept straight on ! and when he had passed the old bridge — you know where I mean, next to the pond there — I just stepped up to him, and touched him on the shoulder. Egad ! but you should have seen him start. You see, there was snow on the ground, and he hadn't heard me coming behind him.' "The skeleton paused, its jaws opened with a clicking noise, and a kind of hollow laughter filled the room. " 'You should just have heard him when I told him to stand and defend himself,' it continued. 'He said he should never recover from having been under the same roof with me, and swore that I made the air so unwholesome that he felt positively faint. As for fighting with me, he declared that he would rather die where he stood, in spite of his ap- NATHAN BONE'S SKELETONS 175 pointment; and said that perhaps, after having exchanged words with me, it would be the best thing that he could do. . . He was a little too haughty, Adam, to please me ; just a little too haughty, Adam. And so . . . But what do you think his last words to me were, as he lay there at the side of the road ? He must have rolled over into the ditch after I left him. I didn't put him there, al- though you found him in it. Damme ! what do you think he said?' " 'Crank it ! I don't know/ said the first skeleton. " 'I'll tell you,' began the other in a horrible whisper ; then it stopped suddenly. 'First of all,' it said uneasily, 'Old Bone must go outside. I won't tell Old Bone.' " 'Bone,' said the first skeleton, 'leave the room.' "The antiquarian got up, unlocked the door, and passed outside, closing the door behind him. He stopped and lis- tened, of course ; but not a word, not one single word, did he hear. "While he was standing there, with his ear to the key- hole, it so happened that his niece came by. Knowing that there could be nobody in the room, she was naturally aston- ished to see him listening like that. But the antiquarian took no notice of her. " 'Whatever are you doing there, uncle?' she exclaimed. "Old Bone raised a finger. 'Hush!' he whispered ex- citedly. 'Not a word !' " 'What is the matter ?' asked the girl, still more sur- prised. " 'Not a word !' whispered Old Bone. "Daisy at once saw that a great change had come over him, and I need hardly say that she came to the conclusion that he was at last quite mad. She stopped with him, how- ever, until eventually, not hearing any sound, he grew too impatient to wait any longer, and opened the door. They entered the room together, and then, if you will believe me, they saw something that made Bone stagger." Castlebridge paused, and glanced at the face of each of his listeners. i 7 6 THE SHRINE OF yESCULAPIUS "Each of those skeletons," he said, very slowly, "was back in its proper place ; and the only thing that was left to prove that he had not dreamed it all was the first skeleton's arm, which had dropped onto the floor, and still lay there. "What passed between the antiquarian and his niece is not known. That he never said a word to her about what he had seen is certain. No doubt he knew that she would not believe it. But the strange thing is the change that it wrought in him. The very next day he packed his skeletons off to London. He sent for Ralph Thompson, told him that he would have to marry his niece at once, and to only one man did he ever tell what he had seen and heard that night. That man was the parson (who told it to me), and he did not believe a word of it. What is more, Bone married his housekeeper, and became as jolly a fellow as you would wish to meet ; took to hunting, gave parties, went to all the dances round about, and, in short, became a thoroughly popular fellow; and everybody said," concluded Castlebridge, "that now he was mad they liked him a great deal better than when he was sane." MISCELLANEOUS m M WHEN DOCTORS AGREED R. TECUMSEH CLAY had never traveled on a railroad pass, though he had often wished that he might. So when Dr. Erasmus Evans, who had an annual pass on the A., B., and C. road, offered to let Mr. Clay use it, the offer was eagerly accepted. "The pass is non-transferable," said Dr. Evans, "but that won't make any difference. Just pretend you are me if the conductor says anything ; but he won't." Mr. Clay took the night train, due in St. Louis the next morning. He awaited the advent of the train con- ductor in some trepidation, wondering to what extent he might have to prevaricate should the official prove to be of the extra-inquisitive type. Mr. Clay didn't like to lie, and hoped the conductor wouldn't make him. At the same time he was a determined man, and did not intend that a fib or two should stand in the way of a free ride. Besides, the safety of the doctor's pass might be imperiled if he exhib- ited any weakness or confusion during the possible cross- examination. But when the conductor appeared he merely read the name on the proffered pass, returned it to Mr. Clay, and went on, leaving Mr. Clay rejoicing. Not even the littlest arid snowiest of fibs had he had to utter. So Mr. Clay, with a pleasant consciousness of both thrift and rectitude, settled comfortably back on the cushions in his section of the sleeper ; and presently, having let the choco- late-faced porter make up his berth, he crawled in to such slumber as the rushing train might permit. About midnight he was aroused by a voice at the cur- tains of his berth. "Doctor!" it said, "Doctor! wake up! A man in the next car has been taken sick, and needs some- thing done." It was the conductor, who had noticed that the name on the pass carried an M. D. 179 180 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS "All right. I'll be out in a moment," answered Mr. Clay, with a promptitude that surprised even himself. "The dickens!" he muttered, when the conductor had departed. "Why didn't Evans tell me that doctors are called up in the middle of the night on sleeping-cars just the same as any- where else? I'd have let him keep his pass and paid my fare if I'd known. There's nothing to do, though, but to go and see the man. If he's really sick enough to need a doctor I'm sorry for him." Mr. Clay, having dressed hastily, made his way into the next car, and was conducted to the patient. With com- mendable gravity he felt of the man's pulse, placed his hand on his chest, and counted the respirations, and then asked to see his tongue. This done, he stood for a moment gazing contemplatively upon the luckless patient. The bystanders thought he was pondering deeply ; he was really wondering what he should do next. Then — it came like an inspiration ; he had seen Dr. Evans do it one time — he lifted the patient's hand and studied his fingernails in a meditative manner. "Have you some whisky?" he asked, turning to the conductor. "Yes, sir ; I can get some," was the answer. "Very good ! Give him two teaspoonfuls in half a glass of water, and repeat the dose at the end of an hour. I haven't my medicine-case with me, unfortunately, and can't prescribe just as I'd like to. But the whisky will act as a—" What sort of an actor the whisky would prove he evi- dently regarded as of no great importance to his listeners, for he broke off, and remarked that he was sorry he hadn't his thermometer with him ; he would like to take the pa- tient's temperature. He evidently had some fever. "But give him the whisky as directed," he concluded with brisk decisiveness, "and if there should be a change for the worse let me know." Back in the privacy of his berth once more, Mr. Clay smiled broadly, and then sighed deeply. "Poor fellow," he thought. "I hope it's nothing serious." WHEN DOCTORS AGREED 181 "Doctor!" called a voice, just as he was dozing off. "The man seems to be getting worse. I guess you'd better take another look at him." "All right," answered Mr. Clay cheerfully, but groan- ing inwardly. "I wish," he muttered, "that confounded old pass had been taken up and cancelled before it ever fell into my hands ! What the deuce am I to do, anyway? The man may die for lack of a little medical skill. But I can't confess that I am no doctor ; I've got to bluff it out." "There's another doctor in the forward car, sir," said the conductor as Mr. Clay appeared. "The patient's friends are getting kind o' nervous, and thought perhaps you'd like to consult with him. I'll rout him out if you think best." "Very well, if the patient's friends desire it," answered Mr. Clay, both relieved and annoyed. "That doctor will see through me in about thirty seconds," he reflected gloom- ily. "I wonder if it would kill a man to jump off the train ; it's going pretty fast." But Mr. Clay did nothing so rash as that. He was gazing calmly at the patient when the consulting doctor arrived. "This is Dr. Evans, Dr. Brown," said the con- ductor, guiltless of intentional falsehood. The two profes- sional men bowed gravely to each other. Dr. Brown had brought a small medicine-case with him, which he set down in the aisle. "Well, Dr. Evans, what are the symptoms ?" he asked. "Just take a look at him and see what you think, Dr. Brown," replied Mr. Clay, with admirable self-possession. Dr. Brown drew a fever thermometer from his pocket, shook the fluid down with a quick professional jerk, and inserted the end under the patient's tongue. Then he felt his pulse, and Mr. Clay noted with envy that he did not look at his watch, as he himself had done. Mr. Clay re- called that Dr. Evans seldom looked at his watch while counting a patient's pulse. "What has been done for the relief of the patient, Dr. Evans ?" asked the consulting physician, as he withdrew the thermometer and silently studied the temperature registered. 182 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS Mr. Clay told him. Doctors had disagreed before, and they might as well do so again, reflected the unhappy Clay. Be- sides, there was nothing else to do but to tell him. Dr. Brown made no comment for a moment. He seemed to be considering the case carefully. Presently, to Mr. Clay's relief and astonishment, he said : "Well, I think you did the right thing. I should advise continuing the treatment through the night, and if the patient hasn't im- proved by morning we can decide upon further treatment. His temperature is not alarming." So back to his berth, conscious that Providence was kinder than he deserved, went Mr. Clay. If his views as to the patient's condition were hazy, upon one subject he held a definite opinion ; he was determined never again to travel upon a physician's pass. The next morning the patient was reported very much better, and Mr. Clay's heart overflowed with gratitude. As he left the train he met Dr. Brown. They passed through the station together, and as they started to part on the street, Mr. Clay said, with a confidential smile : "Between you and me, doctor, I'm not a physician at all. I couldn't tell the conductor so, though, because I'm traveling on a physician's pass." Dr. Brown's lips twitched, and he held out a cordial hand. "I brought along this medicine-case," he said, "just as a bit of a bluff. I'm no more of a physician than you are, but I'm traveling on Dr. Brown's pass." James Raymond Perry. THE GHOST OF THE DISSECTING ROOM HE demonstration was finished, and the students trooped down the stairs that led from the dissect- ing room to separate for the night. We felt our- selves particularly lucky in securing so beautiful a cadaver as that on which our demonstrator had just shown us the technique of ovariotomy. The muscles were remark- ably firm and large for a woman, the adipose tissue was thin and easily removed, and the injecting was sans reproche. We stood for some time by the door, discussing and criti- cizing the operation with that freedom so characteristic of inexperienced and embryo surgeons, the freedom with which a dandy yachtman criticizes the management of a man-of- war, and an old maid the bringing up of children. A student from his stronghold of a seat in the amphi- theatre can easily pick flaws in a laparotomy or an ampu- tation ; but note that same student, a little time after gradu- ating, with the knife in his hand and his first suffering patient at his mercy on the table, and how much, think you, would he give for the aid of the same surgeon he so recently anathematized? All his first month's collections, methinks, if he could secure him for such an unusually small fee. When the last student had left, I remained standing alone at the door, wishing that I might accompany them and be as free as they to walk the street, or search the theatres for amusement. But, alas, there had been a sudden stoppage in the fountain-head of my quarterly remittances, and, being thrown on my own resources, I had taken the situation of ambulance surgeon to the hospital in connection with the college, and my presence was constantly required. I knew not at what moment the telephone might summon our assistance in behalf of some poor unfortunate, a victim of a railroad accident, electric current, saloon brawl, or some 183 i84 THE SHRINE OF .ESCULAPIUS other death-dealing agent of our advanced civilization. So, feeling rather blue, I walked into the surgery, and lighting my pipe sat down in front of the glowing fire, wishing that the monotony of existence might be relieved by some un- usual excitement. It was nearer than I knew. I had been sitting in meditation for half an hour or so, when the telephone bell aroused me with a start and we were summoned to get a man who had fallen under a street-car. "A victim to rapid transit," I said to myself, as I rang the electric bell which told our driver to harness the ambulance horse. Soon we were plunging along the dimly lighted streets, our gong ringing furiously and clearing the way for us, and followed by small boys and dogs, which, like the tossing water behind a steamer, form a wake to ambulances and fire engines. Arrived at the scene of the accident, I found that the patient had been taken home in a carriage, and that our long run through the mud had been for nothing. "So," thought I, "back to a pipe and my own miserable company. No concourse of fellow-students to see a leg set or a scalp sewed on, some of whom always stay to talk it over with me." I crawled disconsolately into the ambulance and, stretching out on the bed within, fell asleep. I was awakened by the rolling back of the stable doors, and jumped out to help Malachi, our driver, unharness the horse. Taking my lamp in my hand, I started through the yard for the hospital, when I was arrested by a sound, the direction of which baffled me for a moment and which seemed to fill the air about me. How shall I describe it? It was a moan, a muffled shriek that rose, then fell, then rose higher and slowly, oh, so slowly, died away. It seemed to freeze the blood in my veins and I shuddered with fear. "Surely," I thought, "it comes from the dissecting room." I glanced up the stairs leading to it, and grewsome enough they looked in the weird, half-light of the moon which was struggling through a bank of threatening clouds. For an instant horrid fancies filled my mind, but my courage gath- ering with the ceasing of that awful cry, I called myself a THE GHOST OF THE DISSECTING ROOM 185 superstitious fool and coward. "What can it be," I rea- soned, "but some dog shut in and unnoticed, now whining and howling, to be released? I will go and let him out." Taking the key from my pocket, I started up the stairs. When nearly to the top I heard that cry again. At first low and sorrowful, its intensity increased gradually until it became like nothing human or animal in its fiendish horror. Wild and awful it rang out on the night until the key dropped from my nerveless fingers and I bounded down the stairs resolved to summon some one to go with me. At the stable door my courage returned (the cry had ceased), and thinking of the boys' chaff on the morrow I made another start. Trembling I crept up the stairs, and, finding the key, turned it in the lock. Never to my dying day will I forget the sight that met my eyes. Bending over the table on which lay the body of the woman, was the form of a beau- tiful young girl. My flickering lantern gave but little light, and yet I saw, with wonderful intensity, the graceful curves of her body, the arm, round and white as a baby's, and the face, on which was a look of unutterable agony. A strange pale light seemed to emanate from her, casting strange and awful shadows on the bodies near her. While I stood, rooted with horror to the spot, she raised one of the bloody tresses in her hand and with the other fondled the red and skinless face and arms of the body. "Mine !" she moaned ; "mine ! mine !" And then began that cry. Heavens ! If it had been horrible from the stairs outside, imagine its tenfold horror, thus near and when I saw its source. A gust of wind slammed the door shut behind me. She heard, and, lifting her beautiful face, saw me standing as stone before her. One reproachful look, one stretching forth of the white hand as if in supplication, and she van- ished! My lantern dropped with a crash and went out, and I was left alone with the mangled dead. N A RIDE WITH DEATH IP HUNTER and I were studying medicine in the office of old Dr. Cross, who was then practising in one of the larger towns of southern Indiana. Like all medical students, we were anxious to dissect. Of course the first thing was to provide ourselves with a subject. But it was a very great question with us how we were to do that. We mentioned our longings to the old doctor, who rewarded our confidence by laughingly placing the office basement at our disposal, and jokingly locating a real fine subject that had just been planted in a graveyard two or three miles from town. This graveyard was near Nip's home, and we recognized our opportunity. The office janitor was an old colored man whom everybody called Dr. Joe. He had gained his title and worn off his natural dread of spooks while acting as janitor in a medical college dissecting-room in Cincinnati a few years before. We took him into our confidence and laid our plans. The coming night all three of us were to walk toward Nip's home, steal shyly into the graveyard, take up the body, carry it across the field to the barn, get out Nip's horse and buggy and convey it to town and to the office. While we were making preparations at the barn the colored man was to hurry back and prepare the office for us, so that there might be no delay. The office was on the main street, and had a side door which opened on an alley ; and as the back end of this alley had just been ditched preparatory to laying sewer pipe, our only chance to reach the office was by the main street. We had a bigger job than we had expected and time had hardly entered as a factor into our calcula- tions. Daylight had overtaken us when we reached the barn, cold and covered with snow — for it had been snowing all night. We hastily decided to hide our prize and wait 186 A RIDE WITH DEATH 187 until the next night to get it to town. But just as we were in the act of tucking it away in the hay, Nip's father ap- peared on the scene and with righteous indignation threat- ened us with exposure and demanded that we take the body away at once. We quickly decided to adopt the bold expedient of attiring the body in clothing to be taken by Nip from his sister's wardrobe and to convey it to town in a sleigh. We accordingly dressed it up, opened wide its eyes, put a veil over its face and sat it bolt upright in the sleigh between us. All went tinkling as a marriage bell until we struck the main street. It was the first sleighing of the season and every one was making the most of it. Suddenly it appeared to me that we had become the objects of everybody's atten- tion. A feeling of horror took possession of me. I watched the faces of the passers-by with eagerness. It seemed to me that the look of joyousness which beamed in their faces as they approached us changed to one of horror as they dashed past. I dared not turn my head to follow them, for I felt that they were watching us over their shoulders. Presently the veil blew off the face. I made a convulsive effort to grasp it, but it was gone with the wind. My terror increased. It seemed to me now that the corpse was at- tempting to leap from the sleigh. "Is it all imagination?" I thought. Then I looked at Nip in order to catch some light as to the realities. His face was as pale as death and his jaw convulsively set. He looked straight in front, turn- ing his eyes neither to the right nor the left. "My God, Tom," he hissed through his teeth ; "she's straightening out. Hold her down. Ain't her eyes shut?" and he grasped a tighter rein on the little mare, which, though going at a rapid rate, seemed to us to be making a snail's pace through the street. "Ain't her eyes shut?" he hissed again, as he leaned further forward as if to assist the mare to greater speed. I looked into the face of the corpse. Its eyes were still wide open and staring. "No," I said, "but her jaw has fallen." And though I spoke in as low a tone as I 188 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS could command, I thought I must have yelled. "My God!" he hissed, and great drops of perspiration stood out on his forehead. The people on the sidewalk stopped and gazed. "See that cop at the corner?" I stammered. Nip instinc- tively threw his weight upon the rein and the mare almost fell, so suddenly did she stop. The policeman passed the corner. "For God's sake drive on!" I said. The whip came down on the now almost terrified little mare, and with a great bound and with a jerk that threatened to make pieces of the sleigh, she was off at a run. "Pull up," I said, "we're at the alley." Nip didn't seem to hear me, but the next moment the little mare wheeled from the street, the sleigh went over, Nip went into the snow on one side of the alley and I on the other. "That woman's killed," shouted a half-dozen voices, as a crowd gathered in the opening in the alley behind us. "You mistaken dar, suh. She sum hu't, but she be all right in a sho't time. I tuk her in to de doctah. He'll fotch her 'roun' all right. I'll tend to de hoss now." "Good thing I wuz at the do," he said aside to me as I brushed the snow from my clothes. And he looked Nip and me over with a merry twinkle as he turned the sleigh up. You may rest assured that was my last experience in that line. W. J. Beck. MODERN LEARNING EXEMPLIFIED METAPHYSICS (ABOUT l800) Professor. What is a salt-box? Student. It is a box made to contain salt. P. How is it divided? 5. Into a salt-box, and a box of salt. P. Very well. Show the distinction. S. A salt-box may be where there is no salt, but salt is absolutely necessary to the existence of a box of salt. P. Are not salt-boxes otherwise divided? S. Yes, by a partition. P. What is the use of this division ? S. To separate the coarse salt from the fine. P. How ! Think a little. S. To separate the fine salt from the coarse. P. To be sure; to separate the fine from the coarse. But are not salt-boxes otherwise distinguished ? 5. Yes ; into possible, probable, and positive. P. Define these several sorts of salt-boxes. S. A possible salt-box is a salt-box yet unsold in the joiner's hands. P. Why so? S. Because it hath not yet become a salt-box, having never had any salt in it, and it may possibly be applied to some other use. P. Very true ; for a salt-box which never had, hath not now, and perhaps never may have, any salt in it, can only be termed a possible salt-box. What is a probable salt-box ? 5. It is a salt-box in the hand of one going to a shop to buy salt, and who hath sixpence in his pocket to pay the shopkeeper. And a positive salt-box is one which hath actu- ally and bona fide got salt in it. 189 igo THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS P. Very good. What other divisions of salt-boxes do you recollect? S. They are divided into substantive and pendent. A substantive salt-box is that which stands by itself on the table or dresser, and the pendent is that which hangs by a nail against the wall. P. What is the idea of a salt-box? 6". It is that image which the mind conceives of a salt- box when no salt is present. P. What is the abstract idea of a salt-box? 5". It is the idea of a salt-box abstracted from the idea of a box, or of salt, or of a salt-box, or of a box of salt. P. Very right : by this means you acquire a most per- fect knowledge of a salt-box ; but tell me, is the idea of a salt-box a salt idea. S. Not unless the ideal box hath the idea of salt con- tained in it. P. True : and therefore an abstract idea cannot be either salt or fresh, round or square, long or short ; and this shows the difference between a salt idea and an idea of salt. Is an aptitude to hold salt an essential or an accidental prop- erty of a salt-box ? 5. It is essential; but if there should be a crack in the bottom of the box, the aptitude to spill salt would be termed an accidental property of that salt-box. P. Very well, very well indeed : what is the salt called with respect to the box ? S. It is called its contents. P. And why so? .S. Because the cook is content, quoad hoc, to find plenty of salt in the box. P. You are very right. Let us now proceed to EOGIC P. How many modes are there in a salt-box? S. Three : bottom, top, and sides. P. How many modes are there in salt-boxes? MODERN LEARNING EXEMPLIFIED igi S. Four: the formal, the substantial, the accidental, and the topsy-turvy. P. Define these several modes. S. The formal respects the figure or shape of the box, such as round, square, oblong, &c, &c. The substantial respects the work of the joiner ; and the accidental depends upon the string by which the box is hung against the wall. P. Very well: what are the consequences of the acci- dental mode? S. If the string should break, the box would fall, the salt be spilt, the salt-box be broken, and the cook in a pas- sion ; and this is the accidental mode, with its consequences. P. How do you distinguish between the top and bot- tom of a salt-box ? •S". The top of a box is that part which is uppermost, and the bottom that which is lowest in all positions. P. You should rather say, the uppermost part is the top, and the lowest part the bottom. How is it then if the bottom should be the uppermost? S. The top would then be lowermost, so that the bot- tom would become the top, and the top would become the bottom; and this is called the topsy-turvy mode, which is nearly allied to the accidental, and frequently arises from it. P. Very good. But are not salt-boxes sometimes sin- gle, and sometimes double? S. Yes. P. Well then, mention the several combinations of salt- boxes, with respect to their having salt or not. S. They are divided into single salt-boxes, having salt ; single salt-boxes, having no salt; double salt-boxes, having no salt; double salt-boxes, having salt; and single double salt-boxes, having salt and no salt. P. Hold ! hold ] you are going too far. Governor of the Institution. We can't allow further time for logic ; proceed, if you please, to NATURAL PHILOSOPHY P. Pray, sir, what is a salt-box? 19a THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS S. It is a combination of matter, fitted, framed, and joined by the hands of a workman in the form of a box, and adapted to the purpose of receiving, containing, and re- taining salt. P. Very good: what are the mechanical powers con- cerned in the construction of a salt-box ? S. The axe, the saw, the plane, and the hammer. P. How are these powers applied to the purpose in- tended ? S. The axe to fell the tree, the saw to split the timber. P. Consider; it is the property of the mall and wedge to split. S. The saw to slit the timber, the plane to smooth and thin the boards. P. How ? Take time, take time. S. To thin and smooth the boards. P. To be sure; the boards are first thinned and then smoothed. Go on. S. The plant to thin and smooth, and the hammer to drive the nails. P. Or rather tacks. Have not some philosophers con- sidered glue as one of the mechanical powers? S. Yes ; and it is still so considered ; but it is called an inverse mechanical power ; because, while it is the property of the direct mechanical powers to generate motion; glue, on the contrary, prevents motion by keeping the parts to which it is applied fixed to each other. P. Very true : what is the mechanical law of the saw ? 5". The power is to resistance as the number of teeth and force impressed, multiplied by the number of strokes in a given time. P. Is the saw only used in slitting timber into boards ? 5". Yes: it is also employed in cutting timber into lengths. P. No lengths. A thing cannot be said to have been cut into lengths. 5". Into shortnesses. MODERN LEARNING EXEMPLIFIED 193 P. Very right: what are the mechanical laws of the hammer ? Governor. We have just received intelligence that dinner is nearly ready ; and as the medical class is yet to be examined, let the medical gentlemen therefore come for- ward. ANATOMY P. What is a salt-box? S. It is a body composed of wood, glue, nails, and hinges. P. How is this body divided? S. Into external and internal. P. Very good: external and internal; very proper; and what are the external parts of a salt-box? «S\ One fundamental, four laterals, and one super- lateral. P. And how do you find the internal parts of a salt- box? S. Divided by a vertical membrane or partition into two large cavities or sinuses. P. Are these cavities always equal? 6\ They used to be so formerly; but modern joiners have found it best to have them unequal, for the more con- venient accommodation of the viscera, or contents: the larger cavity for the reception of the coarser viscera, and the smaller for the fine. P. Very true, sir; thus have modern joiners, by their improvements, excelled the first makers of salt-boxes. Tell me now, what peculiarity do you observe in the super- lateral member of the salt-box ? S. Whereas all the other members are fixed and sta- tionary, with respect to each other, the superlateral is move- able on a pair of hinges. P. To what purpose is it so constructed? 5". For the admission, retention, and emission of the saline particles. Governor. This is sufficient. Let us proceed to 194 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS SURGERY, AND THE PRACTISE OF PHYSIC P. Mention a few of the disorders to which a salt- box is liable. 5. A cracked and leaky fundamental; gaping of the joints in the lateral ; laxation of the hinges ; and an acces- sion and concretion of filth and foulness, external and in- ternal. P. Very well. How would you treat these disorders? Begin with the first. S. I would calk the leaky fundamental with pledgets of tow, which I would secure in the fissure by a strip of linen or paper pasted over. For the starting lateral joints, I would administer powerful astringents, such as the gluten comuosa, and would bind the parts together by triple band- ages, until the joints should knit. P. Would you not assist with chalybeates? 5". I would attack the disease with prepared iron, in doses proportioned to the strength of the parts. P. How would you manage the laxation of the hinges ? 5". I would first examine whether it was occasioned by the starting of the points which annex the processes to the superlateral or its antagonist; or by a loss of the fulcrum; or by an absolute fracture of the sutures. In the first case, I would secure the process by a screw ; in the second, I would bring the sutures together, and introduce the fulcrum ; and in the last, I would entirely remove the fractured hinge, and supply its place, pro tempore, with one of leather. P. Very well, sir; very well. Now for your treat- ment in case of accumulated foulnesses, external and inter- nal. But first tell me how this foulness is contracted. S. Externally, by the greasy hands of the cook ; and internally, by the solutions and adhesion of the saline parti- cles. P. Very true; and now for the cure. 5*. I would first evacuate the abominable vessel, through the prima vice. I would then exhibit detergents and diluents ; such as the saponaceous preparation, with plenty of aqua fontana. MODERN LEARNING EXEMPLIFIED 195 P. Would not aqua ccelestis answer better? 5". Yes ; plenty of aqua ccelestis with the marine sand. I would also apply the friction brush, with a brisk and strong hand, until the excrementitious concrete should be totally dissolved and removed. P. Very proper. What next? S. I would use the cold bath by means of a common pump. I would then apply lintal absorbents; and, finally, exsiccate the body by exposition, either in the sun, or before the culinary or kitchen fire. P. In what situation would you leave the superlateral valve during the exsiccating operation? 5". I would leave it open to the extent, in order that the rarefied humidities might escape from the abdominal cavities or sinuses. CHEMISTRY P. You have mentioned the saponaceous preparation: how is that procured? S. By the action of a vegetable alkaline salt upon a pinguidinous or unctuous substance. P. What is salt? S, It is a substance sui generis, pungent to the taste, of an antiseptic quality; and is produced by crystallization, or the evaporation of the fluid in which it. is suspended. P. How many kinds of salt occur in a salt-box? S. Two : coarse and fine. P. You have said that the saponaceous preparation is procured by the action of an alkaline salt upon a pinguidin- ous or unctuous substance. Describe the process. 5". If a great quantity of strong lye be procured by passing water through the wood-ashes, and if a very large body of a pinguidinous habit should be immersed in this lye, and exposed to a considerable heat, the action of the lye, or rather of the salts with which it abounds, upon the pinguidinous body, would cause the mixture to coagulate into soap. Notice was given at this instant that dinner was on the I9 6 THE SHRINE OF .ESCULAPIUS table; the examination was concluded, and the parties sep- arated; the examiners rejoicing in the anticipation of a feast, and the examined happy in finding the fiery trial over. A CURIOSITY IN MEDICAL ADVERTISING LITERATURE ELDOM do we see an advertisement by a regular practitioner; but those of quack doctors are plen- tiful enough. We therefore think the following exception to the rule is worthy, for its rareness. Merely altering the names, and omitting certain details which are unfit for any but a medical publication, we copy it verbatim from a country print: Mr. Newleaf, Member of the Royal College of Sur- geons, and Licentiate of Apothecaries' Hall, London, re- spectfully informs his patients that he may now always be found at home sober. He has studied Physic for 25 years, 7 years of which were spent with his father, who was in extensive practise for half a century, and who was particu- larly distinguished for his knowledge of and successful treatment of all kinds of diseases under the old system. Mr. Newleaf afterwards studied under the first surgeons in London, and was House Pupil with S * * *, Esq., who performed the operation of * * *, which had invariably terminated fatally in the hands of other eminent surgeons ; he was also a pupil at St. George's Hospital, which beds 500 in-patients ; besides having thousands of outdoor patients ; he resided next door to this Hospital, and therefore had an opportunity of seeing all accidental and many other cases before the arrival of the surgeons. Mr. Newleaf has also been in actual practise 15 years in Blanktown, during which period he has become fully acquainted with the diseases which prevail in this locality, and has attended upwards of 300 cases of Midwifery. Mr. Newleaf has the greatest abhorrence of quackery ; but in justice to himself, wishes to intimate that, having been frequently intoxicated, many of his former patients 197 198 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS forsook him, and many reports have been circulated much to his prejudice ; among others that "he was always drunk, and had given up following his Profession." Having just purchased a first-rate horse and vehicle, he can now attend patients who reside at a distance from Blanktown. His charges are — in consultation : — under 4 miles, Half a Guinea ; above 4 miles and under 8, One Guinea ; above 8 miles and under 20, Two Guineas ; and above 20 miles and under 30, Three Guineas : — when in daily attendance upon patients, fi.is. per week under 1 mile, if seen once a day; twice a day, i2.2s. ; if above 1 mile, is. per mile extra. Mr. N. is disgusted with the present mode of paying medical men, judging of the bill by the quantity of medicine taken. His plan is to give as little physic as possible, he only wishing to be paid for his skill and attendance. Mr. Newleaf will be happy at all times to meet any other legally-qualified Practitioner, and give up the patient to him. Whatever else be thought of it, there is certainly an honesty about this announcement which contrasts very favor- ably with most medical advertisements. With no great stretch of fancy we can conceive the possibility of a quack doctor's getting drunk ; but to imagine a quack doctor would advertise the fact is too improbable a thought for our con- ception to give birth to. The rule in vino Veritas would not apply in that case, for no amount of drinking would ever make a quack so far forget his nature as to speak the truth. Mr. Newleaf, therefore, need not have feared that his ad- vertisement might be mistaken for a quack's ; although we know it is thought quackish for a medical man to advertise, even when he does so "in justice to himself." The soberness of statement with which Mr. Newleaf owns his last intemperance, and intimates that he has now turned over a new leaf, is in better taste, we think, than other parts of his advertisement, which, to our mind, smack too much of the nature of mere puffs. When he speaks in such high terms of his relatives and antecedents, we are A CURIOSITY IN MEDICAL ADVERTISING 199 apt to call to mind the theatrical phenomenon, who couldn't act himself, but knew a gentleman who could; and when he adds to his assertion that he "does not follow his pro- fession," the remark that he has "purchased a first-rate horse and vehicle," we feel tempted to conjecture that his practise ran so fast away from him, that he needed some- thing "first-rate" in the equine way to follow it. Mr. N.'s disgust at the mode of paying doctors, ac- cording to the quantity of medicine they send into one, we do not mind confessing that we cordially share. We, how- ever, think the system is with more truth to be described as of old-time than of present. Punch knocked it on the head some dozen volumes since, and all sensible practitioners have taken his advice, and now charge by the sickness in- stead of by the dose. In lieu of those interminable "mix- tures," "draughts," and "pills," Punch decreed that doctors' bills should consist of single items, as To curing you of cold £. s. d. To cleaning out your liver. ... £. s. d. To extracting pain from toe . . £ s. d. and in brevity the like. Least taken, soonest mended, Punch has found to be the rule ; and so, when deluged with black doses he "threw physic to the dogs," and told his doctor he must look to Toby as his patient. It was bad enough, Punch found, to bear the cost of over-dosing, without hav- ing to gulp down the nasty stuff made for him. Punch. THE MEDICAL STUDENT 201 THE MEDICAL STUDENT The great medical school is, after all, the school which can take the raw country lad and put such a front on him that nobody will ever think of calling him "Doc." THE AMBULANCE A hush in the roar of the busy street ; A pause in the surge of the hurrying feet; A galloping horse — four whirring wheels — A tremor of haste that the whole earth feels — The ambulance comes ! Quick — let it pass ! Claiming its course with clang of gong, Forcing a way through the surging throng — That cross of red is its right of way, Let man nor beast its speed delay, Open a way and let it pass ! Only an episode — one of a score — Lost in the din and the rattle and roar ; A moment's pause in the scurrying throng, And the querulous twang of a clamoring gong. Out of the road ! Make way, make way ! Only a question of life and death, Read in the flow of the failing breath. Only a life — such a trivial thing — Only a trellis where fond hopes cling, Here is the ambulance! Quick, make way! A trivial episode — yes, I know! But the loveliest thing wherever you go Is a touch of humanity, tender and true, With a glimpse of man's brotherhood showing through, So out of the way, and let it pass ! 203 204 THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS INVERTED FABLES IN THE LAND OF THE OUGHT-TO-BE "I cannot begin to tell you," said the patient to the doctor, with an anticipatory gleam of enthusiasm in his off eye, "how much pleased I am to think that you have called on me at this opportune moment. Unless I operate on you in an hour, I will not answer for the consequences." "But," said the doctor, "there is nothing the matter with me. I am a physician. Besides, I came to see you." "You think you did," said the patient, "but in the in- terest of science and my own pocketbook, I am going to do the wrong thing by you, even if you never recover, and I have to explain to your family that if your blood hadn't been in such a condition through dissipation, it might have been otherwise." "But," said the doctor, "this is nothing short of murder. Besides, I'd rather take my chances — " "Shut up !" said the patient, producing a yellow bottle of carbolic acid, a quart bottle of ether, and a black bag of instruments. "I say you have appendicitis, and there is no time to lose. Do as I tell you, and step up on this fold- ing table, or I'll order a consultation of laymen over you, and then you'll wish you had been good." Moral "How much is it?" said the doctor, after it was all over. "How much have you got ?" asked the patient. NO DOUBT OF IT Professor (to class in surgery) : The right leg of the patient, as you see, is shorter than the left, and in conse- quence of which he limps. Now, what would you do in a case of this kind ? Bright Student : Limp, too. THE MEDICAL STUDENT 205 A MATTER OF EXPENSE "Doctor, what is the matter with me?" "You need about three months' rest from business— that is all." "Three months' rest? That will cost me five thousand dollars. The other doctor said I needed an operation for appendicitis. That would cost only one hundred dollars. I think I'll let him operate." HITCHCOCK'S TACTFUL FRIEND Raymond Hitchcock says that while he was lying in a Philadelphia hospital, convalescing from an operation for appendicitis, one of those fool friends, who always say the wrong thing in the wrong place, called on him and told him the following story to cheer him up : Philadelphia's most famous appendicitis expert has a dog of which he thinks a great deal, which had a lopsided walk. A friend asked the doctor on one occasion the cause of this. "Why," was the reply, "he's got appendicitis." "Then why don't you operate on him?" queried the caller. "What, operate on that dog! Why, that dogs worth a hundred dollars." SAVES SOMETHING The boldness, but not the success of modern surgery is exemplified in the following dialogue, which can be found in a little book of jokes on the doctors: "What is on that plate? That is a tumor ; it is a very large tumor ; it weighs 112 pounds; the patient weighed 88 pounds. Was the tumor removed from the patient? No; the patient was removed from the tumor. Did you save the patient ?^ No, we did not save the patient, but we saved the tumor. 206 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS ILL ENOUGH FOR THE PRESENT "Going to operate on me now, doctor ?" "No. If you manage to pull through, we won't oper- ate on you until you are perfectly well again." CONCERNING CORPUSCLES I like to know my blood contains Red corpuscles industrious, Who guard my arteries and veins With valor most illustrious. Invading microbes every day Attack these gallant corpuscles, Who send the villains on their way — Fit candidates for hospitals. I trust they will not wish to roam, These warriors corpuscular ; I hope to make them feel at home : — They make me feel so muscular. F. S. Bailey. MANY OPERATIONS Sir Astley Cooper, on visiting the French capital, was asked by the chief surgeon of the empire how many times he had performed some wonderful feat of surgery. He replied that he had performed the operation thirteen times. "Ah, monsieur, I have done him one hundred and sixty times. How many times did you save his life?" continued the curious Frenchman, after he looked into the blank amazement of Sir Astley 's face. "I," said the Englishman, "saved eleven out of thirteen. How many did you save out of a hundred and sixty?" "Ah, monsieur, I lose dem all; but the operation was very brillante !" THE MEDICAL STUDENT 207 HOW HOPKINS WAS SOOTHED A Portland physician tells the following story, premis- ing it with the remark that nurses in the London hospitals are rather apt to lay too much stress on the advantages received by the patients and to remind them of the duty of thankfulness. Sometimes the patients do not appreciate their good fortune. This scene from a London hospital, related by the physician above indicated, is a case in point : Chaplain : "So poor Hopkins is dead ! I should have liked to speak to him once again and sooth his last moments. Why didn't you call me?" Hospital Orderly: "I didn't think you ought to be disturbed for 'Opkins, sir, so I just soothed him as best I could myself." Chaplain : "Why, what did you say to him ?" Orderly : " ' 'Opkins,' sez I, 'you're mortal bad.' " 'I am,' sez 'e. " ' 'Opkins,' sez I, 'I don't think you'll get better.' " 'No,' sez 'e. " ' 'Opkins,' sez I, 'you're goin' fast.' " 'Yes,' sez 'e. " ' 'Opkins,' sez I, 'I don't think you can 'ope to go to 'eaven.' " 'I don't think I can,' sez 'e. " 'Well, then, 'Opkins,' sez I, 'you will go to 'ell.' " 'I suppose so,' sez 'e. " ' 'Opkins,' sez I, 'you ought to be wery grateful as there's a place perwided for you, and that you've got some- where to go.' And I think 'e 'eard me, sir, and then 'e died." WHY ONE STILL LIVED "How many deaths?" asked the hospital physician, while going his rounds. "Nine." "Why, I ordered medi- cine for ten." "Yes, but one wouldn't take it." 208 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS THE EVERLASTING CONTROVERSY "Well," said the doctor, who is slender, to the profes- sor, who is rotund, "I see you are well enough to be 'round." "Yes," replied the professor. "You can also see, I suppose, that I am considerably further 'round than you are." "Well, you are getting square with me, anyhow." "What is your girth?" "Thirty-eight." "Pshaw !" rejoined the professor. "It is 30 years since I was 40." At the hour of going to press the doctor was still try- ing to dig hidden meaning out of that rejoinder. RETURNED THE FEES On one occasion Professor X — was called in consul- tation with Dr. Gregory, about a patient of his who hap- pened to be a student of medicine. The day before, how- ever, Dr. Gregory was called alone, and on going away was offered the customary guinea. This the stately physician firmly refused ; he never took fees from students. The student replied that Professor X — did. Immediately Gregory's face brightened up. "I will be here to-morrow in consultation with him. Be good enough to offer me a fee before him, sir." To-morrow came, and the student did as he had been requested. "What is that, sir?" the doctor answered, looking at his proffered guinea; "a fee, sir? What do you take us to be — cannibals ? Do we live on one another? No, sir. The man who could take a fee from a student of his own profession ought to be kicked — kicked, sir, out of the faculty! Good morning!" And with that the celebrated physician walked to the door, in well-affected displeasure. Next day, to the astonishment of the patient, Professor X — sent a packet with all the fees returned. THE MEDICAL STUDENT 209 DYING BY INCHES "Will the carpenter live?" asked the House Surgeon. "Hardly — but he is breathing in measured breaths." "Ah, the ruling spirit strong in death," said the House Surgeon. Had he been a Civil Engineer the remark would have been quite as apropos. NEW BOOKS NOT NEEDED A medical student at Bowdoin College once asked Pro- fessor Cleaveland of that institution if there were not some works on anatomy more recent than those in the college library. "Young man," said the professor, measuring the entire youthful scholar at a glance, "there have been very few new bones added to the human body during the last ten years." SURGICAL WIT As good an instance of surgical wit as can be found is still told about the staff of the Roosevelt Hospital. A dangerous operation was being performed upon a woman. Old Dr. A., a quaint German, full of kindly wit and profes- sional enthusiasm, had several younger doctors with him. One of them was administering the ether. He became so interested in the old doctor's work that he withdrew the cone from the patient's nostrils, and she half roused and rose to a sitting posture, looking with wild-eyed amazement over the surroundings. It was a critical period, and Dr. A. did not want to be interrupted. "Lay down dere, voman," he commanded gruffly. "You haf more curiosity as a medical student." She lay down, and the operation went on. 2iO THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS DIDN'T KNOW THE PLACE A young man who had left his native city to study med- icine in Paris, and had been applying his time and paternal remittances to very different purposes, received a visit from his father, who intended making a short stay in the capital to inspect its wonders. During an afternoon stroll together, the day after the elder's arrival, the father and son happened to pass in front of a colonnaded building. "What is that ?" said the senior, carelessly. "I don't know, but we'll inquire," answered the student. On the query being put to an of- ficial, he shortly replied : "That? It is the School of Med- icine." THE FEMALE PHYSICIAN A young lady graduate of a Western medical college, when asked by her father what he should get her for a birthday present, caused that gentleman to turn pale by exclaiming: "Oh, my darling pa! If you would only go to the hospital and buy me the head and arm of a man I should be the happiest girl in the world. I could dissect them on the kitchen table, you see." AT THE HOSPITAL A young physician, proud of his three-days'-old di- plomas, was gleefully telling a physician of many years' ex- perience of his luck in being appointed to the staff of one of the big Brooklyn hospitals. "Just to think of it!" said the young man. "Here I am only a few days out of college, too. I expect to learn a whole lot in that hospital." "Yes," said the old campaigner. "I know of no better place to confirm your diagnosis by an autopsy." THE MEDICAL STUDENT 211 THE BRAIN AND SPINAL CORD They may talk of the brain and point with pride To its arching dome and its basis wide ; To its cortical cells and ganglia deep, And the treasures of thought its chambers keep, To the wonders which eye and ear enthrall, But the spinal cord surpasses them all. For the eye will close, and the brain will tire, And our thought in its very source expire ; While the lordly brow, the lowered crest, Seeks the downy pillow in needed rest, But the sentinel cord its vigil keeps, For "the spinal system never sleeps." The brain may suffice for our waking hours, When the mind controls its wayward powers, 'Tis by it we laugh and by it we weep, It leaves us to die when it goes to sleep ; But the tireless cord with a ceaseless play Is wakeful and active both night and day. When the powers of life seem about to yield, The brain is the first to resign the field ; But the spinal cord holds out to the last, And it often conquers when hope is past, Survives the weak maunderings of the brain, And ushers us back to the world again. Then here is a toast I would have you hail, The spinal cord from the bulb to the tail, You surely must honor the famous spot Where Flourens located "the vital knot." The cord! the cord! with its mysteries deep, Which the pyramids guard and the ganglia keep, The first to grow the last to fail, The spinal cord from the bulb to the tail. 212 THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS THE MARK OF THE LADY The house surgeon of a London hospital was attending to the injuries of a poor woman whose arm had been severely bitten. As he was dressing the wound, he said: "I can- not make out what sort of a creature bit you. This is too small for a horse's bite and too large for a dog's." "Oh, sir !" replied the patient, "it wasn't an animal ; it was another lady." LINES TO A SKULL Deprived of sepulchre, thou grinning vault of bone, Emblem of death, what future hast thou known? Those lips devoid of flesh, those caverns void of eyes, Have known the kiss of love, the glance of glad surprise. All nature is the same. This skull of bone retained The thoughts, the acts and deeds the same as ours contained. It lived, it loved, it died ; its course of life was run. When life was at its noontide, he laid his burden down. The summer's stifling heat, the winter's chilling blast, Unheeded pass thee by. Time is, time was, time past, The dark reports of war, the plague spot's deadly breath, Thou calmly look upon, thou hollow sphere of death. These busy thoughts of ours shall likewise go, The bounding pulse of health, or by old age made slow Shall like a wornout clock, run for a time and stop — The judge upon the bench, the workman from the shop. Death knows no person. Belted earl and knave Meet in the narrow pathway, which leads but to the grave, Naught that is human long endures, e'en this busy frame, Dust to dust thou art, and was, and leaveth but a name. R. W. Battles. THE MEDICAL STUDENT 213 "KNOW'D WHAT HE GIV HIM" During the war, one of those lovely ladies who devoted themselves to relieving the sufferings of the soldiers, was going through a ward of a crowded hospital. There she found two convalescent soldiers sawing and hammering, making such a noise that she felt it necessary to interfere in her gentle way. "Why," she said, "what is this ? — What are you doing?" "What we doin'? Makin' a coffin — that's what." "A coffin? indeed, and whom is it for?" "Who for? that feller over there" — pointing behind him. The lady looked, and saw a man lying on his white bed, yet alive, who seemed to be watching what was being done. "Why," she said, in a low voice, "that man isn't dead. He is alive, and perhaps he won't die. You had better not go on." "Go on! Yes, yes, we shall. The doctor he told us. He said, make the coffin ; and I guess he know'd what he giv' him." EARLY PRACTISE 215 A FOREGONE CONCLUSION Young Doctor : Well, I've got a case at last. Young Lawyer : Glad to hear it. When you get him to the point where he wants a will drawn, telephone over. EXPERIENCE REQUIRED One day while mending the roof of his house a Japanese lost his balance, and, falling to the ground, broke a rib. A friend of his went hurriedly for a hakim (doctor). "Hakim, have you ever fallen from a roof and broken a rib?" was the first question the patient asked the doctor. "Thank heaven, no," replied the hakim. "Then go away at once, please," cried Chodja. "I want a doctor who has fallen from a roof and knows what it is." A CASE FOR CONSULTATION "Doctor," she said, archly, "some physicians say kissing isn't healthy, you know. What do you think about it?" "Well, really," replied the handsome young doctor, "I don't think you or I should attempt to decide that off-hand. Let's put our heads together and consider." VITAL SPOTS We are glad to learn from Dr. T. Hollingworth An- drews that the solar plexus is not as vital a spot as the infra spinatus. All right, all right ; also thanks, but every medical authority recognizes that the digitalis spiritus frumenti is positively fatal. 217 218 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS A MEDICAL EXAMINATION A medical journal says that a handsome young lady stepped into the office of the young bachelor secretary of the State medical examining board. She (modestly) : Are you the secretary of the — State Board of Examiners? He (bashfully): Yes, ma'am. She: I want a license to practise medicine in this State. He: You will have to be examined first. She: By you alone? He: No, ma'am; before the full board of examiners. She: Be- fore the whole board ! Why that is terrible ; I can not con- sent. INDISPENSABLE "What book do you find most useful in your practise?" asked a young doctor of an experienced physician. "Brad- street's," was the ready reply. MEDICAL IGNORANCE Among the papers of R. H. Stoddard that Ripley Hitch- cock edited, there is a letter which Oliver Wendell Holmes, the poet physician, is said to have received. This letter was written, many years ago, by an ignorant country prac- titioner, and it is interesting because it shows the low level to which, in the early part of the last century, it was pos- sible for medical education to fall. The letter, verbatim, follows : "Dear dock I have a pashunt whos physicol sines shoze that the winpipe is ulcerated of and his lung hav dropped into his stumick. He is unable to swaller and I fear his stumick toobe is gone. I have giv him everything without efeck his Father is wealthy honorable and influenshul. He is an active member of the M. E. church and God noes I don't want to loose him wot shall I do ?" EARLY PRACTISE 219 IT WAS NOT APPENDICITIS In the small, up-country town of Sanford, Ga., there have been so many cases of appendicitis since that fashion- able sickness became known to society and science that when Mrs. Frazer saw the doctor's buggy before the door of Mr. Harvey, her oldest neighbor, she became very anxious to know how he was "taken," and stationed herself at the window for the purpose of waylaying "Mammy," his old colored housekeeper, to make inquiries. Mammy, who had the slow, set walk and lift of the head of a well-established house servant, presently came out, true to time, to do her marketing. "Mammy," announced Mrs. Frazer, pointing to the buggy, "Mr. Harvey sick?" "Oh, ter'ble bad, ma'am." "And what does the doctor call it?" Mammy had a poor head for medical terms. "I don't jist exactly remember," she admitted humbly. "You name over de different sickness', Miss ; I dun hear de name, an' I'll call 'um to mind ef yr' say 'um." Mrs. Frazer named several illnesses. "Not dat — not dat," asserted Mammy each time. Presently Mrs. Frazer spoke the fear that was in her mind : "Is it appendicitis?" "Oh, Lor', honey, no," cried out Mammy. "I dun hear about dat new fashion of ailment. But de matter wid Massa is some old style sickness — jist some old style sickness. 'Taint none o' dem high-class disease dat come in since de War." Mrs. Frazer sighed relief : "Well, thank God for that," she said fervently. And Mammy echoed : "Yes, ma'am, yo' right. T'ank God fo' dat." MORTALITY REDUCTION "Keep 'em alive, boy! keep 'em alive!" said an old physician to his young brother practitioner. "Dead men pay no bills." 220 THE SHRINE OF ^ESCULAPIUS A PRACTICAL QUESTION G. R. Glenn, superintendent of Public Instruction of the State of Georgia, tells this story : One day he had explained the powers of the X-ray machine to a gathering of "darkies" who had assembled at a school commencement. After the meeting was over a negro called him aside, and wanted to know if he was in earnest about the machine. Mr. Glenn assured him that he was. "Boss, I wants ter ax you ef er nigger et chicken kin you look in him an' see chicken?" "Why, yes, Ephraim," said Mr. Glenn. "Well, boss, I wants ter ax you one mo' question. Kin you look in dat nigger an' tell whar dat chicken cum from ?" A CLEVER DIAGNOSIS Wife (to sick husband) : The doctor says your sys- tem needs a stimulant and has prescribed whisky. Patient (eagerly) : That physician has diagnosed my case cor- rectly ; he knows his business. When are we to begin ? Wife: Right away. You are to take half a teaspoonful after each meal. A SURE REMEDY There was an Irishman who rushed, late one night, to a doctor's house in great haste and terror. He rang the doctor out of bed, and he said, nearly weeping : "Doctor, doctor, dear, my little son Pat has swallowed a mouse. What in the world is to be done ?" "Swallowed a mouse, has he?" said the doctor gruffly. "Well, go back home and tell him to swallow a cat." EARLY PRACTISE 221 WORRIES OF A DOCTOR "Don't look so bored," said a young doctor to a friend who had just made a wry face after listening to a neighbor's tale of what "my youngest boy said the other evening." "If you want funny experiences with young fathers and mothers you ought to be a doctor for a while. I had just fallen in- to a fine sleep the other evening — it was the first time for weeks I had gone to bed at a respectable time — when the telephone bell rang. " 'Halloa, doctor, doctor !' said the voice of one of my young matron friends. 'Is that you?' "I assured her that it was. " 'Well, do you know, I can't think what is the matter with baby. I'm quite frightened. She just cries and cries, and I'm fearfully afraid she's seriously ill.' "I didn't suppose there was anything the matter with the youngster, but I proceeded to ask a number of ques- tions. " 'Why, there doesn't seem to be any symptoms of sick- ness,' I exclaimed. 'Perhaps she's hungry?' " 'Well,' said the mother, 'I never thought of that.' "Then she rang off. I crept back into bed and had just dropped off into another fine doze when again went the telephone bell. " 'Halloa !' I called. " 'Oh, halloa ! doctor,' went the same voice. 'Doctor, you were right ; she was hungry. Good-bye.' " A BEGINNING Resident : Think of opening an office in this neighbor- hood, eh? Seems to me you are rather young for a family physician. Young Doctor: Y-e-s, but — er — I shall only doctor children at first 222 THE SHRINE OF yESCULAPIUS ENCOURAGING A YOUNG ONE "You are wanted in a hurry at Mr. Gazzam's," cried the messenger breathlessly. "Are you sure they sent for me?" asked young Dr. Killiam. "Yes ; they said you couldn't do any harm as Mr. Gaz- zam's dying now." EVEN THAT WOULD HELP A physician was called in to treat a case of delirium tremens. "Can you cure the delirium tremens, doctor?" he was asked. "No," answered the physician. "Then what can you do?" he was asked. "I can make the snakes look smaller," was the response of the M. D. THE KING'S DISEASE "Young Dr. Doce has struck it rich at last." "How?" "He refuses to treat anything but perityphlitis." REVERSED "Now," said the doctor who knew what was what when it came to dyspeptics, "take this prescription to the best butcher you know, and get it filled. And if the steak isn't tender change butchers." "And when," asked the trembling invalid in whom the medicine habit was strong, "will I take it ?" "Just before medicine time, and then forget the med- icine," replied the physician, who was a great joker. EARLY PRACTISE $2$ AN IMPROVEMENT NOTED "And how is your husband now, Mrs. Nubride?" "He's better, thank you. A few days ago he was ter- ribly run down, but he's recovered enough to eat health foods again." THE NEW DISEASE "Your husband requires rest," said the doctor, as he came from the sick-chamber. "He will soon be well ; he has a bad attack of tickerosis." "Tickerosis, doctor! Why, that's a new disease, isn't it?" "Yes, quite new. It is caused by watching the ticker in the broker's offices. It af- fects the optic nerve and the spinal column." TIMID The man who is never seriously sick was finally per- suaded by anxious friends to apply to the physician for a prescription. He looked at the abbreviated Latin and the signs which indicate quantity and said: "I suppose you got this out of a book?" "Yes, originally." "A man had to trust to his memory to copy it out of another book?" "Certainly." "And a compositor set it up ?" "Yes." "And a proofreader took a turn at it?" "Naturally." "And now you're depending on your recollection to get it correct?" "But, my dear sir — " "I know — you're not a man to take chances. But I'm too timid to trust my physical safety to anything that seems so much like hearsay evidence." 224 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS AGAINST ODDS "Why didn't you send for me sooner ?" said the doctor to a patient who was almost at the jumping-off place. "Well, doctor," replied the invalid, "you see it took me a long time to make up my mind to do anything desperate." A THOROUGH EXAMINATION The following story is told of a coroner who was called upon to hold an inquest over the body of an Italian. The only witness was a small boy of the same nationality, who spoke no English. The examination proceeded thus: "Where do you live, my boy?" The boy shook his head. "Do you speak English ?" Another shake of the head. "Do you speak French?" Another shake. "Do you speak Ger- man?" Still no answer. "How old are you?" No reply, "Have you father and mother ?" No reply. "Do you speak Italian?" The boy gave no sign. "Well," said the coroner, "I have questioned the witness in four languages, and can get no answer. It is useless to proceed. The court is ad- journed." SAW IT CLEARLY "My friend called with me on a lady who was suffering from goiter," said a young physician. "He exhibited great sympathy and recommended a number of remedies, all of which had been tried with no good result. After a few moments of reflection he made a new suggestion. 'There is a lady doctor who has been making some wonderful cures up in Westchester County. I wish you'd go and consult her.' 'What's her name?' 'Oh, that's just what I've been trying to recollect. Now it isn't Jones, or Smith, or Brown, or any of those short names. Let me see ; let me see. Oh ; now I have it; I remember now. Yes, it's Miss Gara Voyant. That's the name. ' " EARLY PRACTISE 225 UPS AND DOWNS Doctor : Do you know the effects of getting too much mercury in your system ? Denny: Yis, doctor. Oi'd be a thermometer. BLIND INFERENCE Doctor: Thomas, did Mrs. Popjoy get the medicine I ordered yesterday? Thomas : I b'leeve so, sir ; I see all the blinds down this morning. HER AFFLICTION Charles Emory Smith says he is not afflicted like the dyspeptic lady who consulted her physician and reported his conclusion. "The doctor," she said, "told me that my real difficulty was that I hadn't sufficient gall to justify my victuals." A MATTER OF TASTE Surgeon : Your pulse is still very high, my friend ! Did you get those leeches all right I sent the day before yesterday ? Patient : Yes, sir ; I got 'em right enough ; but mightn't I have 'em b'iled next time, sir? EVIDENCE OF THE SERVICE A physician, on presenting a bill to the executor of the estate of a deceased patient, asked, "Do you wish to have my bill sworn to?" "No," replied the executor; "the death of the deceased is sufficient evidence that you attended him professionally." 226 THE SHRINE OF yESCULAPIUS FOR A YOUNG M. D. "Yes," said the old doctor, "you should try to have your own carriage, by all means. Because when you want to get to a patient quickly " "Oh," interrupted the young M. D., "I don't think any patient who sent for me would be likely to die before I reached him." "No; but he might re- cover before you got there." MODERN MIRACLES A physician, who is something of a wag, called on a colored Baptist minister, and propounded a few puzzling questions : "Why is it," said he, "that you are not able to do the miracles that the apostles did? They were pro- tected against poisons and all kinds of perils; how is it that you are not protected in the same way?" The colored brother replied promptly: "Don't know 'bout dat, doctor; I 'spect I is. I's tooken a mighty sight ob strong med'cine from yo, doctor, an' I's 'libe yit!" AFTER THE MEDICAL COMMENCEMENT Two newly-fledged physicians met the other day, and the following highly interesting conversation ensued: "Ah! good morning, doctor." "Good morning, doctor." "And how are you to-day. doctor?" "First-rate; and how are you, doctor?" "I'm all right. Got a good case of meningitis at your hospital, doctor?" "Yes, come down and take a look at it. Anything special up your way, doctor?" "Man fell from a scaffolding and broke his neck two days ago, still alive, may get over it. Pleased to have you call, doctor." "Thank you, I will, doctor. Good-day, doctor." "Good-day, doctor." EARLY PRACTISE 227 SELF-INCRIMINATING A remarkably honest Chicago doctor sent in a certifi- cate of death the other day with his name signed in the space reserved for "Cause of death." THE WRONG KIND OF A DOCTOR The portly physician was in a reminiscent mood, and this is the story he told after the cigars had been passed around and lighted : "After I was turned out of the medical college a full- fledged physician, I looked around for a lively-looking town to locate in. After a search of over a month I found a small town where I thought they needed another doctor, so I determined to locate there. "As I was entering the shop of the local sign painter to have a shingle painted an old man drove up before the place and excitedly asked the sign painter if he knew where Doc Smith was. " 'Doc's gone fishing,' said the painter. 'What's the matter ?' " 'Betsy's sick,' fumed the old man. 'I wish that fellow would stay home and attend to business.' "Here was my opportunity I thought, so I stepped for- ward and said: " 'Perhaps I can help you out ; I am a doctor.' "The old man looked me over rather doubtfully and then shouted for me to jump in. I did so and he put the gad to his horse and we dashed away at a rate that threatened to wreck us before we had gone a mile. " 'What is the matter ?' I shouted to make myself heard over the noise that the old rattle-trap of a wagon made. " 'What do you suppose I'm taking you out there for if it isn't to find out?" he snapped. "Well, I held my peace after that and waited develop- ments. We had a drive of twelve miles before we reached 228 THE SHRINE OF /ESCULAPIUS his home and when we reached there he drove straight for the barn. " 'Now, git to work,' he shouted, indicating with a wave of his hand a mare that was lying on the barn floor. "Then it burst upon me that he wanted a horse doctor, and with the best command of dignity that I could muster I told him that my practise was solely confined to human be- ings. The way that old man went for me was awful, and while the fireworks were playing about my head the mare died and there was nothing for me to do but to walk home, as the old man said he would see me elsewhere before he would drive me back, and that I ought to be thankful if I didn't get a suit for damages on my hands." X-RAYS I care not for the Roentgen craze — The question, to perplex, Is not how to produce X-rays, But how to raise the X. Charles Follen Adams. WHY HE PROSPERED A certain man was hanged, then he died. And he left two sons, honest men. Now, one of the sons was a blacksmith. But the other became a physician. And after that their father had been taken from them these brothers made their homes in other lands. And the blacksmith would have prospered. But it be- fell that one asked him how his father made end. And the blacksmith, looking angrily upon him, answered, "He was hung." For the blacksmith was an honest man. Howbeit, presently, when a horse was missing, men gathered and hanged the blacksmith, saying, "This man EARLY PRACTISE 229 must take after his father." So the blacksmith did take after his father, but whether he caught up with him the tale telleth not. And at the same time, in his own city, one inquired of the physician by what means his father died. And the physician covered his face and wept. But while he wept he considered, saying within him- self, "If I say, 'He was hanged,' then shall I shock this man and give him pain, and it is my office to relieve pain. Never- theless I must tell the truth." He said therefore, "My father died of heart failure." And again he wept, the questioner weeping with him. Then, this being told, men said, "Doubtless, since his father died of heart-failure, this good physician and loving son hath made study of kindred diseases." So they resorted unto him. And the physician became a specialist. And he looked at them who came, and coughed once and sneezed twice and demanded one hundred dollars. And they gave gladly, for the physician was an honest man. GENERAL PRACTISE 231 TRAKEYOTOMY DAN Trakey — yes ! it are a curi'us name, But, stranger, mixed up with it are a story, just the same. Yer see, Gibson were a doctor es hed a brain tu think, An' hed all the village practis afore he tuk tu drink; But he an' his financey hed a leetle fallin' out, When she ups an' weds a feller es was nothin' but a lout. The docter kinder weaken'd, and tuk ter drinkin' gin, An' the way that he kep' at it wus a most alfired sin. He didn't kere fur nothin' but wud stag'er thro' the street, A-cussin' an' a-hollerin' like I never seed the beat. The parson preeched about him es a warnin' to all men, While Gibson, from the church door, hollered out a loud amen. But like thet Rip Van Winkle, o' whom you've heerd, no doubt, He luved the leetle children that follered him about; So when Trakey, playin' yonder, was takin' awful sick, He cum up home ter treat him, but I chased him double quick, 'Cause we'd sent for Doctor Sloper, a goodish sort o' man, Ter physic leetle Trakey, who's Christyun name es Dan ; But somehow the boy grew worser, an' Sloper sed he'd die. So we tho't we'd send fur Gibson, an' let him have a try. I cu'dn't quite believe it, when I seed him comin' in So dignified and sober, like afore he tuk ter gin. Trakey riz to greet him, but fell back, white and weak, Then try'd ter tell him somethin', but cudn't even speak. His breath grew short and shorter, an' he struggl'd hard fur air, A-clutchin' at his windpipe, in a sort o' mute dispair. Gibson seem'd most sorrerful, an' slowly shook his hed, Mumbled somethin' 'bout dipthery, an' in an hour bein' dead; 233 234 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS But Sam, he sed, a-suddin' like, I'll tell ye what I'll do, I'll perform a trakeyotomy, an' mebbe pull him thro'. I didn't know exactly what he me'nt by sech a name, But sed es how ter go ahed, an' I wu'd take the blame. Well ! he giv' him chloreform, 'till he lay like he wus de'd, An' my heart kep' sinkin', sinkin', es if it were o' le'd ; But when I seed him cut'in', an' the blood a-flowin' free, The room and all things in it seem'd swimmin' around me. Bimeby I got my senses ; thar was Trakey all correck, Breathing, oh ! so peacefully, thro' a tube within his neck. Darn me! I cudn't help it, o' course it were fur j'y, But I threw my arms 'round Gibson, an' hed a good ol' cry. He watched my boy an' nussed him, 'til I 'swan I couldn't see How any human bein' could stand as much as he ; Fur he never left his bedside 'til he tuk the tube away. Es fur gin, he never teched it ; 'tho' 'twere always in his way. We all wus hyfilutin, when Trakey left the bed, 'Cept Gibson ! who was mopish, with a throbbin' in his he'd. Pretty soon he tuk a retchin', followed by a heavy chill, Jest the same es Trakey hed after he tuk so ill. I ain't no shakes at docterin', but I cud plainly see The doctor wus a sicker man than he let on to be ; So we sent again for Sloper, but this time he wus right. Gibson hed dipthery, an' wud die before the night. Thet were Sloper's verdict. Gibson sed 'twere fur the best, Es the grave ter any drunkard wus but a place of rest ; Thet life ter him wus weary, full o' shame an' full o' sin, An' 'twere better to die this way than loaded up with gin. Along a-toward the evenin', his mind got out o' gear, An' he raved about his marriage at the endin' o' the year' Kep' a-callin' fur his sweetheart, an' risin' out o' bed Sed he guessed he'd go and see her, but keeled right over, de'd. The parson preeched about him, es a noble ship astray. But which seed the savin' beacon in time to find its way, An' sed he was a hero — an' so says every man As ever heered the story o' Trakeyotomy Dan. John C. Macevitt, M. D. GENERAL PRACTISE 235 IMAGINATION Friend: I heard you tell that lady there was nothing the matter with her husband but imagination ! Doctor: Yes; — he's worth a million dollars and has got the "Ji m "J ams " ! HIS INTERPRETATION Once upon a Time, a lank, anaemic Agriculturist, with a redundant Adam's-apple and protruding Knees, consulted a Physician in regard to his Case and was directed to eschew for a Season all Sweets and Pastry, including the seal-brown Molasses in which he was wont to wallop his Flapjacks of a Morning, and the tempting but well-nigh suicidal Pumpkin-pies which it had been his Habit to in- dulge in as a Beverage, so to express it, and to take plenty of Exercise in other ways than discussing Politics, and confine himself to a diet of Animal Foods. After paying what was due, the Farmer went on his Way, credulously believing that Doctors know more than Common Folks; but, a few Weeks later, he returned in a decidedly pessimistic frame of Mind to prove to the Physi- cian by Ocular Demonstration that his health was in no wise mended. He had faithfully followed the Directions as to Exercise; but declared that while the Corn and Oats and Chicken-dough had not 'peared to injure him to any great Extent, he really and truly believed the Timothy Hay had upset his Stummick for good and all. Moral. — From this we should Learn that it is small wonder that the Purveying of Gold Bricks continues to be a pleasant and profitable Avocation. THE REASON "I thought your doctor wouldn't let you drink?" "I know, but I changed doctors." 236 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS DOCTORS' BIG FEES The doctor and some of the reporters were talking in the little room opposite the telephone office down at Bellevue Hospital. "I see by the papers," said the doctor, mentioning the story of a large bill reported to have been sent in by a surgeon of the city, "that this doctor didn't feel satisfied with four thousand dollars. He thought he ought to have four thousand six hundred dollars. That's a rather fine dis- tinction perhaps but it all depends on the sort of a case which the surgeon treated. A man with his skill and his standing can charge almost anything he pleases. "The way in which some physicians earn large fees is curious. I recall one case of the sort — or at least a story of a case for I won't vouch for the truth of it all. A man had been suffering for some time with gastritis and had been treated for more than a year by several physicians. The usual treatment is to put the patient on a milk diet. That usually does the work but this man kept growing worse. He finally summoned Dr. B., one of the best-known physicians in the city. When Dr. B. learned the history of the case he took one long look at the man's face and reached for his hat. " 'I need time to think this over,' he said. 'You meet me to-morrow at Delmonico's, and I'll prescribe treatment of some sort for you.' "The patient appeared at the time the doctor had set. " 'Come in and sit down,' said the physician. 'I can talk to you while I am eating my dinner.' "Then the physician said something in a low tone, and when the waiter came back he brought two orders of oysters. The patient looked surprised. " 'Now,' said the doctor, 'you just fall to and eat a good meal. That's all you want.' "It turned out that the doctor was right. The man, who had been nearly dead, was soon in good health. Then the physician sent in his bill. It was for four thousand dol- GENERAL PRACTISE 237 lars. When the man received it, he hurried around to the doctor's office. " 'By thunder/ said the man, 'do you think I'm made of money? I can pay it all right, but now, honestly, doc- tor, don't you think it's pretty large?' " 'No,' replied the physician. 'Your life is worth more than four thousand dollars, isn't it? Well, I saved your life. I can't see that I'm asking too much.' "The man sent around his check the next day." PRESCRIPTION AND PUN A physician was called upon to see a seamstress who felt indisposed. He inquired as to her health, and she re- sponded very appropriately, "Well, it's about sew sew, doc- tor, but seams worse to-day, and I have frequently stitches in the side." The doctor hemmed as he felt her pulse, said she would mend soon; and left her a prescription. A SURE CURE Hosteller McGinnis, who has ruined his constitution by getting drunk again, went to the sanctum of an Austin doctor and said: "I am troubled with unpleasant dreams at night. How can I prevent myself from dreaming bad at night?" "Well, perhaps, the best remedy for you to try first is to do all your sleeping before sundown," said the doctor, solemnly. WISE INVALID Physician (to patient's wife) : Why did you delay sending for me until your husband was unconscious ? Wife: Well, doctor, as long as he retained his senses he wouldn't let us send for you. 238 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS AN APPEAL FOR SPEED A good story is told of a digger who had ridden into a Western Australian town to consult a doctor. Having done so, he went to have the prescription made up. "How much is this lot?" he asked the chemist. "Well, let me see," was the reply. "There's seven- and-six-pence for the medicine and a shilling for the bot- tle." He hesitated, uncertain whether he had charged for everything. "Oh, hurry up, boss," said the impatient miner. "Put a price on the cork, and let us know the worst." RESIGNED "Doctor," said Mr. Pneer, "can you save his foot?" "I am afraid not," replied the old family physician. "It will have to come off. You must try to be resigned to the will of Providence, Mr. Pneer." "I know it," rejoined the father of the boy, wiping his eyes. "It will save me something in shoe leather." IN OTHER WORDS "Is it true that your uncle died of heart failure ?" asked the Philadelphia girl. "Yes," replied the Boston maid, "I believe the physician attributed his demise to cardiac deficiency." FITZSIMMONS' DOCTOR First Newsboy: See dat guy wid de big whiskers? Dat's Bob Fitzsimmons' doctor. Second Newsboy: How d'you know he is? First Newsboy: 'Cause he's got a sign in his office window what reads, "I Cure Fits." GENERAL PRACTISE 239 SHORT TETHER Wife: Oh, doctor, Benjamin seems to be wandering in his mind ! Doctor (who knows Benjamin) : Don't trouble about that — he can't go far. REMARKABLE SYMPTOMS "Well, Patrick," asked the doctor, "how do you feel to- day?" "Ouch, doctor, dear, I enjoy very poor health en- tirely. The rheumatics are very distressing indade; when I go to slape I lay awake all night, an' my toes is swelled as big as a goose hen's egg ; so whin I sthand up I fall down immajit." HIS CIRCULATION ALL RIGHT Editor (anxiously) : Well, doctor, what is the matter with me? Nothing serious I hope. Doctor : H'm ! well, you are in a bad way. Your cir- culation is very low. Editor (excitedly) : What? Why, sir, I have at least two hundred thousand a day. You have been reading a rival sheet. FREQUENT DOSES A popular doctor on Long Island, who had served in the war, visited a patient, the wife of a companion in arms. While writing the prescription the doctor was talking with his fellow-soldier about the war. Having finished the pre- scription, he handed it to Mrs. H — , who looked at it, and then asked : "Doctor, had I not better take this a little oftener?" "I guess not," said the doctor; but on reading it he changed his mind, for he had written, "Every three years vone teaspoonful." 240 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS NO DAMAGE DONE One of the stingiest men in New York fell from a street-car and broke his leg in two places. "Are you hurt ?" asked one of the parties who came to his assistance. "Not a particle," replied the sufferer, grinding his teeth in pain ; "I pay a doctor so much a year." A DISEASE THAT IS RARE Mrs. Juniper entered the doctor's office dragging by the hand an overgrown boy of fourteen. She was excited and impatient; he was dogged and glum. "Oh, doctor, he has lost his voice! He hasn't spoken a word for two days !" she said. The boy looked at her sullenly, and suffered the doctor to hold his face up to the light. "Open your mouth. H'm! Tongue all right?" "Ya-ah." "Hold your head up and let me look at your throat. Seems to be something the trouble there. Push your tongue out. Now pull it back. Feel all right ?" "Ya-ah." "Why, Mrs. Juniper, there is nothing the matter with him," said the doctor impatientlv. "Boy, why don't you talk ?" "How can I when I ain't got anything to say?" HAD TRIED ELECTRICITY "Have you given electricity a trial for your complaint, madam?" asked the minister, as he took tea with the old lady. "Electricity!" said she. "Well, yes, I reckon I has. I was struck by lightning last summer and hove out of the window ; but it didn't seem to do me no sort of good." One o callet: one oi was p said h «'i me — t was bii the o! The Physical Examtnation GENERAL PRACTISE 241 PULLING EYE TEETH "Dr. Johnson, of Morris County, New Jersey," writes a friend, "an old physician, known and respected by all the community, was riding leisurely along, one summer day, and a party of Irish hay-makers, taking a nooning with their bottle under a tree, thought to put a joke upon him. One of them stepped out, and calling to the doctor to stop, asked him to come over and pull a tooth. Hitching his horse he was soon among them, when the man who had called him handed him a hay-rake, and asked him to pull one of its teeth. Without hesitation, the doctor took it, and was preparing to perform the operation, when the fellow said he guessed he wouldn't have it drawn to-day. " 'Oh, very well,' said the doctor ; 'it's all the same to me — fifty cents, sir !' And sure enough the fellow found he was bit, and had to pay the usual fee. He never trifled with the old gentleman again." DOCTORS KNEW THEIR BUSINESS Congressman John Sharp Williams tells of a man in Mississippi who is a hypochondriac of the first order. This individual's failing is a source of never-ending amusement to his fellow-townsmen. It was of this man that some one humorously remarked, in answer to a question, as to how the sick man was getting on, that he "complained that he was feeling somewhat better." Mr. Williams says that the hypochondriac was one day telling a friend of his efforts to regain his old-time health. He ran over the list of doctors whom he had consulted. Whereupon the friend remarked : "Well, old man, I must say that you appear to have lots of faith in doctors." "Certainly I have," replied the sick man. "Don't you think the doctors would be foolish to let a good customer like me die ?" 242 THE SHRINE OF .ESCULAPIUS SEEING DOUBLE A resident of one of the small towns came to the city to consult an eminent oculist, whose fee is never less than ten dollars. The granger was rather green in appearance, so the doctor thought to have a little fun at the expense of his rural visitor. A prism was placed before his eyes in order to test the muscles. "Why, doctor," exclaimed the patient, "I see two can- dles!" "Indeed!" replied the doctor. "You are very fortu- nate." "How so?" "Why, just think what an advantage you have over the rest of us ! You see everything double, and beautiful pictures, charming landscapes and lovely faces are all re- peated to you." When the prescription for the proper glasses was written, the man from the country, without a smile, laid a five-dollar bill on the table, with the remark : "There, doctor ; there's ten dollars for you." DEAD, BUT IN PERIL Smith, who had always been a "tough one," has just died. The physician is met coming from the house by Brown, who asks: "Doctor, how is Smith? Is he out of danger?" Physician: "No. He is dead, poor fellow; but he is far from being out of danger ; I fear." SATISFACTORILY ARRANGED "I believe," said the young physician, "that bad cooks supply us with half our patients." "That's right," rejoined the old doctor. "And good cooks supply us with the other half." GENERAL PRACTISE 243 TWO KINDS OF DOCTORS The Reverend Dr. Charming had a brother, a physician, and at one time they both lived in Boston. A countryman in search of the divine knocked at the physician's door. "Does Dr. Channing live here?" he asked. "Yes, sir." "Can I see him?" "I am he." "Who? you?" "Yes, sir." "You must have altered considerably since I heard you preach." "Heard me preach?" "Certainly. You are the Dr. Channing that preaches, ain't you?" "Oh, I see you are mistaken now. It is my brother who preaches, I am the doctor who practises." NOT TO LAST LONG There is no worse occupation for an earnest physician than to listen to the complaints of people who pretend to be ill. Dr. , who was called upon by one of his patients for nothing about once a week, ended by inquiring : "Then you eat well?" "Yes." "You drink well?" "Yes." "You sleep well?" "Certainly." "Wonderful!" said the doctor, as he prepared to write a prescription. "I'm going to give you something that will put a stop to all that." TAPPED "I advise tapping," said the doctor, after having ex- hausted all the powers of his healing art on the case. The father of a family, a hard drinker, was bloated with the dropsy to the size of a barrel. He had drunk nothing but whiskey for years, but the doctor said he was full of water nevertheless, and advised him to be tapped. The old man consented, but one of the boys, more filial than the rest, blubbered badly, and protested loudly against it. "But why don't you want father to be tapped?" "'Cause nothing that's tapped in this house ever lasted more than three weeks." 244 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS BETTER THAN MEDICINE "Aha!" shouted the patient triumphantly, as he rushed into the doctor's office. "I've cured that insomnia now. I sleep like a top." "How's that?" "I leave that loud new golf suit of mine in another room when I go to bed." WRITING TOO MUCH "Doctor," said Frederick Reynolds, the dramatist, to Dr. Baillie, the celebrated physician, "don't you think I write too much for my nervous system?" "No, I don't," said Dr. Baillie ; "but I think you write too much for your repu- tation." NOT MINCING MATTERS Dr. Jephson of Leamington was noted for being brusque and unceremonious. A great London lady, a high and mighty leader of society, who had taken suddenly ill, sent for him. Jephson was so off hand with Her Grace that she turned on him angrily and asked : "Do you know to whom you are speaking?" "Oh, yes," replied Dr. Jephson quietly; "to an old woman with the stomach-ache." HIS RETALIATION "About the meanest man I ever knew," said the Old Codger, "was Lyman Parlow. If you'd tell him what to do for his rheumatism, he'd go right off and follow your ad- vice ; and then, the next time he met you, he'd take up half an hour of your time tellin' you all about the effect it had on him." GENERAL PRACTISE 245 A STORY OF HORACE MANN The story is told of Horace Mann, that one evening as he sat in his study an insane man rushed into the room and challenged him to a fight. Mr. Mann replied: "My dear fellow, it would give me great pleasure to accommo- date, but I can't do it, the odds are so unfair. I am a Mann by name, and a man by nature, two against one! It would never do to fight." The insane man answered: "Come ahead, I am a man and a man beside myself, let us four have a fight." A QUESTION OF AVERAGE Doctor : Um ! Cold no better. Strange ! Been tak- ing cod-liver oil? That's right. Been wearing medium under-clothing ? Patient: Well, yes. That is, I had a very light suit and a very heavy one. Doctor: Don't mean to tell me you've been wearing one and then the other? Patient: Yes. I thought they would average up all right. A SHREWD REPLY The doctor's testimony went to prove the insanity of the party whose mental capacity was the point at issue. On the cross-interrogation he admitted that the person in ques- tion played admirably at whist. "And do you seriously say, doctor," said the learned counsel, "that a person having a superior capacity of a game so difficult, and which requires, in a preeminent degree, memory, judgment, understanding could be insane?" "I am no card-player," said the doctor, with great address, "but have read in history that cards were invented for the amusement of an insane king." 246 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS NOTHING WAS RIGHT THERE The house committee of a lunatic asylum had been visiting the institution on a certain occasion, and were after- wards standing talking in the grounds, when one of their number, happening to glance at the asylum clock, cried: "Good gracious ! Is that the time ?" and turning to a man who was just passing he inquired: "Is that clock right?" "No," dryly replied the stranger, who turned out to be an inmate. "If it had been richt it wadna' hae been here." A COMPLIMENTARY NOTICE Dumas one day dined at the house of Dr. Gistal, a celebrity of Marseilles. After dinner the good doctor brought his distinguished guest an autograph album, and asked him to add his name to it. "Certainly," said Dumas, and he wrote: "Since the famous Dr. Gistal began to practise here they have demolished the hospital — " "Flat- tery!" cried the delighted doctor. "And on its site made a cemetery," added the author. A REASONABLE BILL Russell Sage was deploring the cut-throat methods that warring railroads so often apply to one another. "It is wrong," he said, "it is wrong. It is not good business." Then, smiling a little, he resumed : "It is the kind of business that a physician and a tavern-keeper — acquaintances of my boyhood — used upon each other once. The physician was overtaken by a storm on a cold winter night, and rather than drive ten miles home, he put up at the tavernkeeper's house. He and his host sat for an hour or two, before they went to bed, at a table on which a bottle of whisky stood. They talked pleasantly, but neither took anything to drink. What, there- GENERAL PRACTISE 247 fore, was the physician's surprise in the morning to find on his bill a charge of fifty cents for whisky. " 'Why, man, I drank none of your whisky,' he said to the tavernkeeper. " 'Maybe you didn't,' the other replied. 'But you might as well. It was there on the table for you.' "The physician paid the fifty cents, and a week or two later he put up at the tavern again. This time he ran up a bill of a good size. What with the things he ate and drank and smoked, seated with the landlord at the table, his medicine case before him, his account came to some- thing like five dollars. "In the morning, when he got his bill (it was five dollars exactly), he gave the landlord, instead of cash, a receipted bill of his own for a like amount. At this bill the landlord stared. " 'Medicine, five dollars !' he exclaimed. 'What does this mean? I haven't taken any of your medicine.' " 'But, friend, why didn't you ?' said the physician. 'It lay before you on the table all last evening.' " THE DENTAL STUDENT 249 SATISFACTORY Dentist : Well, how do the new teeth work ? Every- thing satisfactory? Patient: Not exactly. They seem to cut the others. Dentist: Naturally. They don't belong to the same set, you know. LUCKY TOOTH Wife: I have just been to the dentist's and had a tooth drawn. Husband: Lucky tooth! It is now beyond the reach of your tongue. A MISUNDERSTANDING Rube: Yaas, Si is dead. Went inter town ter git a tooth pulled. Dentist feller told him he'd better take gas fust an' — Josh : Dentist gev him too much, eh ? Rube: Oh no. After the dentist feller told him that he went back to his hotel an' took the gas hisself. NATURALLY ADAPTED "Your highness," suggested the shipwrecked captive, "is there not some position on your staff that I can fill?" "Mn — well— there is a vacancy, but you might not be able to fill it. I need a torturer." "Just the thing. I used to be a painless dentist." Josh Wink, 25 1 252 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS MISSING THE DOCTOR "You look so happy that I suppose you have been to the dentist and had that aching tooth pulled," said a Gal- veston man to a friend with a swollen jaw. "It ain't that that makes me look happy. The tooth aches worse than ever ; but I don't feel it." "How is that?" "Well, I feel so jolly because I have just been to the dentist and he was out." THE SIX HUNDRED Teacher : Johnny, who were the six hundred referred to in the line, "Into the jaws of death rode the six hun- dred?" Johnny: Why-er-ah-oh-why-they were dentists. WOMAN DENTIST HAS NO MERCY She is just a little woman with a lot of curly brown hair and a determined mouth always ready to smile, says the New York Commercial Advertiser. She lives in a big house on Lexington Avenue, and has her name and title emblazoned in gold on one of the front windows. The house is quite luxurious within, and the big drawing-room gives one no hint of the terrors that await. Beyond the doors at the farther end of the drawing-room is what the little woman calls "my chamber of horrors," and here she pur- sues her calling all day and every day "and at night by electric light." Sometimes the doors between the parlor and the office are left ajar, and this is what the ears of the visitor are greeted with: "Whirr-whirr-whirr!" from the foot pedals, and "whizz-izz-izz" from the wheel, and then a stifled groan from the big red velvet chair. The other noises cease. "Hurt much ?" says the voice of the woman whose name THE DENTAL STUDENT 253 is in the window. "I'm afraid you are a coward. I'll have to send you to a children's dentist. Why, I pulled out eight teeth for a man the other day and he didn't make as much fuss as you. I'll doctor that nerve with ice water and then we'll begin again." Another groan from the red velvet chair as she re- sumed. As the dentist works she chats : "The vanity of men !" she exclaimed the other day. "Why, women can't hold a candle to them. When a woman gets a set of false teeth she wants to go away and hide somewhere for a month, to get used to them. But a man — well, a man becomes positively childish. (Don't squirm like that; is that gold too hot?) He stands in front of the mirror, talks, smiles, and laughs in twenty different keys, to see the effect of the new ivories. Then he asks me what I think of them, and in a few days he comes in and tells me about a set he has seen that has gold filling in the front, and what would I think if he had some put in his. Finally I get so tired of that man that I dread to hear his name. But there are a good many like him, and I'll say this much for him, he is willing to pay for good work, and never squabbles over the bill — as women do." An odd fact is that the majority of her patients are men. She explains it by saying that men think she will be gentler than would a man dentist and that women don't trust their own sex. "Why," says the little dentist indignantly, "a woman brought her little boy in the other day to have a tooth pulled. She asked for my partner, who was out. She was ushered in to me and I looked as the tooth. Before I began she said: 'Are — are — you quite sure you are strong enough?' 'Madam/ I said, 'I have pulled teeth for Jack McAuliffe,' and then I extracted that small boy's aching molars so quickly that he actually forgot to scream. Yes, Mr. Mc- Auliffe is a patient of mine and is as gentle as a lamb, but he makes terrible grimaces and sometimes I'm glad I'm not a man." The writer waiting outside the "chamber of horrors" 254 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS the other day had a unique experience. She heard the dentist imploring for mercy — surely an experience which many of his victims would have enjoyed. He was in the chair and his feminine partner was executing little sym- phonies with the buzzing wheel. "Now — let me speak — just one minute!" wailed the man in the chair. "Open your mouth, please." Buzz ! buzz ! buzz ! "Ouch ! Oh, I say, be careful—" "A little wider, please — there — " — whirr ! whirr ! whirr ! "If you'll only stop — we'll go to see — " "Open your mouth, unless you wish your tongue cut off!" "And to Delmonico's after — " "Don't wriggle like that or I will — " "And you can choose the seats." THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 255 CURING A COLD Mr. Bifkins had a cold, It settled in his head, "Always hits the weakest spot," Funny friends all said. Mr. Bifkins coughed and wheezed Shivered, sneezed, and shook, Listened to his friends' advice — This is what he took : Box of antikamnia. Douched his nose with brine, Mustard plaster on his chest, Camphor balls, Quinine, Bottle of Dr. Killem's Cure, Onion stew, Some squills, Horehound tablets, Licorice, Anti febrine pills, Porous plaster on his back, Spirits frumenti, Menthol inhalation tube, Ginger, Rock and rye, Bottle of cough syrup, Whisky — just a sip, Mutton tallow on his neck, Box of anti-grip, Vapor bath, Electric shocks, Brandy, 257 258 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS Cure for croup, Emulsion of cod-liver oil, Ugh! Some strong beef soup. Every remedy that they urged Mr. Bifkins tried ; Now, they said they cured the cold, But Mr. Bifkins died ! MALARIAL PRONUNCIATION Scene. — Village Drug Store. Drug Clerk (alleged) building wind-mill behind prescription desk. Time — All day. Old Lady (coming in, and seeing top of head over rail) : Mornin', Ezry ! Drug Clerk (pounding his fingers): S-s-s-wp! — mornin' ! Old Lady: How's trade? Drug Clerk (in aspirates) : Blank-blinkity-blunk- blink blink! that blink-blanked, round-headed hammer! (Affably) Pretty fair considerin'. Pep'mint drops? Old Lady: Five cents' wuth, as cust'mary, an' 'bout 'n ounce of quinine for Father. He's got 'm agin. Drug Clerk: Sho! This quarter's punched; but, seein' it's you, Miss Gidney, I'll circulate it on some one that can better 'ford to lose it. Mornin' ! Old Lady: Mornin'! Drug Clerk goes back to his work as an artisan, draws a nail, splits hub of wheel irreparably, blink-blanks some more, and Little Girl appears. Little Girl : My mother, she wants nine cents' worth of keenneen, 'n she '11 pay you to-night when she comes down to the village. THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 259 Drug Clerk points at sign, which hangs over soda- fountain, and calls the attention of Little Girl to the legend that: "To trust is bust: No trust, no bust." and Little Girl goes out. Drug Clerk tired of architecture, makes a figure-four of himself in doorway and a solitaire bet on the result of a cur-fight going on in the street. Village Pastor walks by, turns back, and hurrying past the soda-fountain as an implement of ungodly possibil- ities so far as lower left-hand spigot is concerned, goes to back of store. Clerk follows him in, crawls under drop- counter shelf, and puts on a cold religious brace. Drug Clerk: Good mornin', Mr. Baker. Village Pastor: Good morning, Mr. Musgrave. I want a small box of Green's bronchial troches. Drug Clerk : Yes, sir. Here they are. Fine sermon of yourn yisterday! Village Pastor {looking over his glasses) : I didn't see you there. Drug Clerk (a little disconcerted) : No, Mr. Fitts was to White Plains, 'n I hed to tend shop. Sister gave it to me in the evenin', though, most word 'r word. Village Pastor: I see. Mr. Musgrave, are these troches entirely fresh? It appears to me that these -r-r- blooms on the box bear a strange resemblance to -r-r - that is, so to speak, they indicate the past visitation of flies. Drug Clerk (examining box critically) : Guess that box is a leetle mossy. Mistakes will occur, Mr. Baker. Here's a box that came in yesterday. (Surreptitiously, and while the Village Pastor is sampling cough-candy, wets his fingers and wipes off end of box which hass been exposed to the light.) Village Pastor (with his teeth stuck together by a piece of candy) : Z-that'll z-h do, Mr. Mushgab — (getting his jaivs apart with a snap) : — now, if you will put me up a 260 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS small keeneen powder, I'll run along. Thanks. Good- morning. Drug Clerk: Good-mornin'. Call ag'in. He come pretty nigh floorin' me on the sermon racket. Village Supervisor: Think I'm a magazine? Ex- tract ! Drug Clerk: Yes, sir. When's the new hose-cart comin' ? Village Supervisor (mysteriously) : Wait 'n' see. (Goes oat again.) Drug Clerk: Ole Baits '11 bust his proud-box one 'r these days. (Resumes the figure-four pose.) Doctor (bustling in with a two-gallon can) : Fill her. Ez! move lively! Hen Purdy 's all swelled up again. Quinine's the only thing that'll fetch him. Got to pump him full. Put it on the slate, will you? So long. Hold up! Gimme a swallow of the extract quinn. Kind 'r chilly this morning. If old Hildreth comes in, give him the same dose and charge him stiff. I'll take commission out of the soda- squirter to-night. Drug Clerk (looking over account book) : Doc's ac- count 's gittin' pretty stiff. Seventeen dollars 'n' ten — no, twelve cents. Guess we'll have to set on his neck nex' time ole man Age get took V pays up. He always tells when he pays his bills. Little Boy (sticking his head around the door-post) : Got any extrac' of Juniper? Drug Clerk (suspiciously) : That won't work, Toast Fickett! You wan' me ter say "yes," so's you can ast me why I don't ketch one an' nip him with it. There ain't no butterflies on this posey — not to any great extent. Say, why ain't you to school? Guess I'll have to speak to Mr. Gibbs — (Throws a squeezed lemon at the boy, reconsiders the action, goes out after the fruit, squeezes two more drops out of it, and puts it away to dry for peel.) During the rest of the day, fourteen townspeople and an emancipated slave comes in, and asks respectively for k'neane, quinnin, quineine, kaneen, queenin, kwanine, THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 261 queenann, kewine, some-of-that-air-stuff, quinenean, k'n, quean, fever-buster, and q-q-q-n-n-in-i-chk, leavened only by one little boy who orders an ounce of "laudlum," which the Drug Clerk puts up cautiously and labels : Ladlum Poision Geo. Fitts. Pharmacist, Chilton, New York. Drug Clerk {putting up shutters at 8:30 P. M.): Glad it's night. I can't help thinkin' what a fine taown this would be for one o' them earth-quakes to strike. Find ev'thin' already a-shakin' for it, 'n' d-d-d-darned 'f I f-f-feel jest right myself. G-g-guess I'll go in 'n' take s-s-s-s- (d them hiccups) ifter 'f q-q-q-n-n-n- my (br-r-r-r-r-rgh) self. James S. Goodwin. A KENTUCKY DRUG STORE First Drummer: I saw a funny sign in a Louisville saloon, lately. Second Drummer: What was it — "No Shooting Al- lowed?" First Drummer: No; — "Physicians' Prescriptions Carefully Compounded." EASY TO PRESCRIBE FOR Druggist : What did that man want ? Clerk : He wanted something for the grip. Druggist: What did you give him? Clerk : Don't know ; didn't look. Everything is good for the grip. 262 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS WRONG DIAGNOSIS "Read the direkshuns quick, Mandy !" "It sez, 'fer adults — one teaspoon' " — "Thunder! That ain't what ails me — what else does it say?" A MISTAKE Customer : What's this ? Seventy-five cents for a two cent stamp ? Why that is outrageous ! Druggist: Beg your pardon, sir. I thought you had a prescription for it. A RARE DRUG (This is not a patent medicine advertisement.) Are you sick at the heart and discouraged, my man? Do you try to do more than you honestly can? Have you overexerted your body and brain, By plodding and striving with might and with main? Take thou a phial Of Self-Denial! Has dyspepsia claimed you for one of its own ? Does neuralgia threaten your wits to dethrone? Is there on your whole system a terrible drain? Have you never a moment of freedom from pain? Turn your mind's dial Toward Self-Denial ! Are you nervous, and restless, and never at ease ? Is your head all afire while your ankle-joints freeze ? Does your spinal arrangements seem breaking in twain? Do you feel just as though you were going insane? Give it a trial, This Self-Denial! Addison Fletcher Andrews. THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 263 THE DOCTOR He walked in briskly, and Billby, who is considered a good judge of the different varieties of humanity and be- lieves himself a match for any of them, was impressed with his professional air. "Tomkins in?" inquired the stranger. Tomkins is the senior partner. "Just gone to try his luck at a restaurant. Have a seat and wait?" "Isn't that too bad ! How long do you 'spose he'll be gone ?" The visitor consulted his watch with apparent anx- iety. "Oh, maybe a half hour; he'll be back by 2 o'clock anyway." "I really ought to see him, of course, but I have an ap- pointment for 1 45. I was coming over this way and thought I would bring Tomkins' medicine and save him the trouble of coming after it. Could I leave it with you ?" "Sure." "Well— er, the charge was seventy-eight cents. Just tell Tomkins I paid it, will you?" "Why, say ; just let me pay you." "Oh, no ; that's all right. I'll see Tomkins in a day or two, anyway." "Might just as well," urged Billby. "He may forget it you know." The stranger pocketed the seventy-eight cents and said : "Tell Tomkins I hope the medicine will help him." Tomkins arrived fifteen minutes later. "There it is," said Billby, without looking up from his desk. "There what is ?" inquired Tomkins. "Your medicine." "Medicine for what?" Tomkins was puzzled. "How should I know? If it were my prescription for you it would be a hair restorer." 264 THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS "What are you talking about? What do I want with medicine ?" Billby silently and impressively reached for the package and deposited it in front of Tomkins. "Your doctor brought it." "Why, I haven't consulted a doctor for ten years. You've been dreaming." "Great Scott! I wonder" — Billby was beginning to wake up. "Let me see what's in the bottle." "I didn't get it on that Masonic Temple purchase or the lake front expansion," remarked the junior partner a few minutes later, after he had sent the office boy out for the cigars, "but I think I'm the original purchaser of Lake Michigan on the installment plan at seventy-eight cents for two ounces." WANTED TWO BOTTLES OF REFRAIN A Western congressman whose testimonial of a patent medicine has of late appeared in all the papers, has recently received a remarkable letter from a person who evidently thinks the congressman has the remedy on sale as a sort of congressional side line. The letter follows : "Dear friend & statesman: I rite you the urliest dait to be so cind as to do me a fafor. I haf tried all cinds of patent medisin for heart decetse an no avail. I red your little pome on Hart deces beginnin "The hart which sad tumultus beets, with throbs of keenest pain will oft recover its defects Thro' natur's sweet refrain. "I now ask you to send me by return male 2 bottles of your medisin naturs sweet refrane. I haf never tried an injun doc but haf took all cinds erbs. Sen to Penn. P. S. — I will sen prise by return male." THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 265 THE DRUG CLERK ' 'Tell your troubles to a policeman' has long been an expression when a man was bored by hearing the woes of another," said a drug clerk the other evening, "but if you would hear the woes of mankind hot from human lips just step behind the prescription counter and listen to the troubles I have to endure and the tales I have to listen to during my trick of duty. The policeman has his troubles, and the street car conductor runs his a close second. Neither is, however, a marker to the poor drug clerk." "Got anything good for a cold?" The speaker was a man who appeared to possess aver- age intelligence. Did he have anything for a cold? What is a drug store for? Well, the drug clerk proceeded to rattle off a number of things he had found to be good for a bad cold, and finally the man decided he would step over to the soda fountain and take a lemonade. And the drug clerk had not suggested such a dose. After the man with the cold had imbibed his lemonade he returned to his first love — the drug clerk — and proceeded to pour out some more misery. "Went to a dance the other night, you know," he began. "I'm a very smart young man, and after I had danced every number on the menu I proceeded to stroll into the cold and refreshing night air. Look at me now. Am I a dream of delight? Oh, the bright things! I suppose if the plumber would come along with a pail of hot lead I would dip my finger into it to see if it were really hot." The poor drug clerk had to listen and appear to like it. "Mister, I want a nickle's wuth o' wepson salts for my mamma," chirped a youngster as he handed over an empty bottle and incidentally knocked over half a dozen bottles of perfume. He wanted to invest a nickel and destroyed a dollar's worth of stock. Good profit for the druggist, don't you think? The kid got the salts, stole a sponge, carried away half a dozen almanacs and a card advertising little liver pills. 266 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS "Doctah, kin you' tell me what's good fo' a pluracy pain in ma side? Ah done had a mos' mis'ble time dis las' night ; deed I has." An old black "mammy" had ambled into the store and held her hand on the offending side and groaned as the drug clerk proceeded to mix some brown sugar and water to give her. "How much is dis?" "Oh, nothing ; that will be all right." "Thank you, sah." Asked why he did not charge for the prescription the drug clerk sighed and said: "She didn't have any money. She would have stood me off. I know her. What's the use darkening your books with bad accounts ?" The drug clerk looked across the store and saw an old man coming. "Great heavens! Here comes another!" groaned the drug clerk. "Who is he?" repeated the clerk. "He is a patent med- icine fiend. He buys every patent medicine in the world that has the words 'Cures Dyspepsia' on the wrapper. He tries every free sample of everything, and if there is a patent medicine in the world that this fellow hasn't been up against, then I miss my guess. Now listen." "Good mornin', doctor," groaned the apparition as it approached the clerk. "Good morning, Mr. . How do you feel to-day?" That was all the patent medicine fiend needed to open up his tale of woe. "Oh, tougher than the dickens, Charlie," he began. "Have you got anything in the store that will stop an awful aching in my neck? And I've felt so numb all day to-day that I don't believe that I can last much longer. I had an awful backache yesterday, but that's better to-day. Don't much more'n get rid of one thing till another comes. My teeth have been tryin' to worry me some lately, too." The drug clerk handed him a small vial of toothache drops and he ambled out. THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 267 "That's only one of the million that I hear every day," said the clerk. A moment later he got into an argument with a woman who was possessed of a small slip of paper that she handed him. "No you can't work that off on me. A doctor never saw that prescription. I can't do anything for you. You'll have to go somewhere else," the clerk said to her. She muttered something and walked out. "The same old gag," remarked the dispenser of drugs. She had a fake prescription for morphine and she came in to have the order of her favorite drug filled "for a friend." She had forged a prescription and had tried to "work it off" on the clerk, but had been there before. But the drug clerk does not hear all woe. He has to be polite to the woman perfume fiend. There are women in local society who delight in visiting drug stores for the purpose of sampling every make of perfume in the house. They will sniff at the bottles, try a little on their handker- chiefs and ask the price. Then they go to the next store. The drug clerk has also to be a city directory. If he doesn't know where Thomas Smith's office is he is ignorant. If he cannot say where Mrs. Edgar Williams has moved within the last month he is devoid of all sense. He must know. He has to be able to tell whether a grocer out in the west end has a telephone or not, and if he hasn't, why hasn't he? He has to walk quietly behind the fountain counter and hand out a little vichy water and ammonia to the "boys" who are suffering from the effects of a "morning following the night before." In this he poses as a lifesaver, and the "boys" proceed to the office with only thoughts of thank- fulness in their hearts for the drug clerk. The drug clerk — poor dog ! — has to know it all, hear it all, and bear it all, If he doesn't, he is a bad drug clerk. 268 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS UNFORTUNATE SUGGESTION Elderly Maiden (to druggist's boy) : Well, I do de- clare, if I ain't forgot what I came for ! Boy (full of business): Hair dye? rouge? lotion to remove freckles ? wrinkle eradicator ? bottle Bloom of Youth ? Elderly Maiden hails a passing street-car. JUST AS GOOD "Have you really no affection for any other girl, dear ?" she asked of her fiance. "No!" replied the drug clerk absent-mindedly, "but I have something just as good." BEECHMAN'S PILLS A certain religious congregation in England wanted to procure new hymn-books, but they were very poor and could not afford to pay for them at the ordinary prices. They understood, however, that a certain great advertising house, a business house that made patent medicines, was willing to furnish them hymn-books at a penny each, if they would allow some advertisements to be inserted in the books. They thought that would be no special harm, that they might have a few pages of advertisements bound up with Watts and Doddridge. They agreed to the proposition. The books came duly, and got down to the church on December 24. On Christmas morning the model Christians, who had no thoughts of anything but religion, got up to sing. Their pastor gave out by the first line a very familiar hymn. Im- mediately the congregation arose to their feet, and in a few seconds they were aghast to find themselves singing: "Hark! the herald angels sing Beechman's pills are just the thing. Peace on earth and mercy mild ; Two for man and one for child." THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 269 DRUG STORE COFFEE Customer (at soda fountain) : Have you any coffee flavor ? Clerk (briskly) : Yes, sir! Customer: Does it taste like coffee? Clerk : U'm — er — n-no ; but it looks like coffee — per- fect picture of it, sir. THE CRITICAL SPIRIT New Drug Clerk: That doctor of yours ought to make out better prescriptions. Customer: Why, what's the matter? New Drug Clerk : I had to guess at half he wrote. HER DEBT OF GRATITUDE When she entered the pharmacy the proprietor was too busy stacking almanacs to hear her footsteps. She tapped on the brass scales and he came out smiling. "What can I do for you?" he asked, with a courteous bow. "Ah, monsieur," she replied, "you can do nozing now ; you have done much in ze past. I come to say zanks." The pharmacist was puzzled. "I am afraid I don't recall the circumstances," he said, shaking his head. "Ah, monsieur's memory is weak. Two years. I come one night. Ze wind. How ze wind blew zat one night two years ago ! Ah, monsieur, and ze sleet. Horrible ze thought ! I come and ask for ze poison. I ze one miserable singer. My voice fail. No longer ze audience call for Marie. Ze audience hiss ze song. I no longer want life. I come for ze poison. Monsieur sell ze belladonna without ze prescription or ze question." 270 THE SHRINE OF ^SCULAPIUS "Did you take it?" gasped the pharmacist. "Monsieur will listen. I stand in ze dressing room. I would take ze poison in ze moment. While I wait I have an idea. I put ze belladonna in my eyes. Zey shine like stars of ze north. Glorious ! I run out on ze stage. In ze box sit ze rich old man. He fall madly in love with my bright eyes. He beg me to marry him. He worth millions. I am his wife to-day. Suppose monsieur had refused ze poison on zat wild night two years ago?" "It would have been bad for you." "Horrible ! And now I will buy somezing of monsieur. Give me two stamps and one postal, please !" The pharmacist sighed and opened the stamp drawer. When his visitor was at the door smiling a farewell he beck- oned her to return. " Waz ze change right ?" she queried. "Yes, but you forgot to take an almanac." He forced a collection of variegated pamphlets in her hands. "Here is a good selection. Calendars, receipts, jokes, and the picture of great men who take preparations." DISAPPOINTMENT "Well, I'll acknowledge I'm disappointed," said Rivers sourly. "I asked at least fifty people to-day what I ought to take for my cold, and not one of them recommended quinine and whisky." "What did they recommend?" asked Brooks. "Quinine." HAIR RESTORER A man from the country, who visited the city, called on a prominent druggist whose infallible hair preserver he had used without any perceptible effect. "Look here, sir," he said, "I have used two bottles of your stuff, and all the hair is coming right off my head. I'll drink another bottle; if that don't fix it, I shall have to try something else." THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 271 AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY Uncle Abner : I see in the papers that a new kind of patent medicine has jest been put on the market that will cure everything. Aunt Rachel: Well! And both of Jed Larkin's boys is goin' to a medical college. It seems that when lots of folks go to fittin' theirselves for a profession, something happens to make that profession unprofitable. "FOR A HORS." A Western veterinarian sent the following to be filled Send this by this boy Tinker of Asfetty 1 ounc — Camphor 1 ounc Cappicom 1 ounc Lodman 1 ounc Mix Anknite 10c. Cloraform 1 ounc do not think this is spelt wright but you will know what it is it is for a hors. dock — M. D. TRADE NAMES "A man came in here one day," said the apothecary, "and asked for a 'raw-shell' powder. He meant a Rochelle powder. On another occasion a customer demanded a 'side- light' powder. He got it. A lady came in once, and, hold- ing up a pint bottle, said: 'What will you charge to fill this with pneumonia?'" 272 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS A CONFUSION OF TERMS Horace T. Eastman, the inventor of the locomotive pilot, said the other day: "This morning I was sitting in a drug store waiting to get a prescription filled when a young Irishman entered. "The Irishman pointed to a stack of green Castile soap and said: " 'Oi want a loomp o' that.' " 'Very well, sir,' said the clerk. 'Will you have it scented or unscented?' " 'Oi'll take ut with me,' said the Irishman." COLLODION "They have a bright clerk down here at the drug store." "Why, what's the matter?" "I went in and asked him for ten cents' worth of col- lodion to paint shingles with. 'Madam,' he said, 'we don't keep house paints here.' " RULING HABIT "Is the boss in ?" asked the stranger, entering the drug store. "No," replied the absent-minded clerk; "but we have something just as good." EVIDENCE OF SAGACITY "Would you rather be wise or beautiful?" asked Fate of the coy Young Maiden. "Beautiful," replied the damsel. "Ah, you are wise already," commented Fate, as she tied up a package of cosmetics. THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 273 FOR HIMSELF The other day a man entered a drug store at the cor- ner of Halsted and Sixty-first Streets, Chicago, and said to the druggist, in a low voice : "Have you anything that will cure the itch ?" "Yes, sir," was the reply. "Give me a dime's worth," said the customer. "I don't want it for a friend. I want it for myself." NOT TO BLAME "Babbert is an awful poor judge of whisky, isn't he?" "Yes, he inherits it. He comes from a long line of druggists." A DRUG CLERK'S TROUBLES "I want five cents' worth of glory divine," said a flaxen- haired tot looking intently at the clerk in a South Boston drug store last evening. Everybody within hearing of the infantile voice either laughed or smiled, while Mr. Grey, the drug man, looked serious and appeared to be thinking. "Are you sure it is glory divine you want?" he asked the little one. "Yes, sir," was the prompt response. "For what does mama want it?" was the next ques- tion. "To throw it around the room and in the back yard," said the little tot, innocently. "Isn't it chloride of lime she wants?" asked the drug man. The little girl nodded her assent, and soon was on her way home to mother. r Tt's only one of the many enigmas which face the drug clerks every day of their life," said the apothecary. "The little girls do not make mistakes very often, but the little boys and some of the heads of the fam- ilies are always guessing at what they mean. But 'glory divine' is a new one on me." 274 THE SHRINE OF iESCULAPIUS A FEW SURE CURES "I see Doc Basswick has got out a sure cure for bald heads," remarked the country storekeeper, as he cleaned the mouth of a molasses jug with his forefinger and pushed a corn cob stopper in place. "He allows that it will do the business every time. I reckon it ought to. If smells bad enough. I know there's kerosene in it an' ammonia. He's puttin' up ten gallons of it fer a start an' he allows he'll get a dollar fer a pint bottle. That'll be eighty dollars fer the ten gallons, an' I'll bet eight gallons of it is common, ord'- nary rainwater. It takes a druggist ter make money." "What's it goin' ter cure bald heads of?" asked the customer, jocosely. "Bunions," answered the storekeeper, smartly. "Rufe got it on you that time, Hank," said Wash Han- cock, grinning. "It's jest as easy to make money out o' sand as it is out o' rainwater, though. You ought ter take the time ter sift your sand, Rufe; I like ter broke a tooth on a bowlder in the last sugar I got of you. So Doc's git- tin' out a hair restorer? That puts me in mind o' Pliny Tipton an' the time he had raisin' hair. I remember when he'd have given eighty dollars a spoonful for anything that would have put hair on his head. He's sorter indifferent now. "It worried him right smart about the time he met up with Myrtle Beasley," said Hancock, "an' it kep' on worryin' him all that spring an' all summer. Myrtle had come over from Fairfax to visit with Mert Tillotson's folks an' Pliny took a shine to her as soon as he seen her. She was a good-lookin' gal, but not much of a cutup. I reckon she had more sense than most o' them, but she had the gin'ral prejudice wimmen folks has in favor of hair. Pliny never had much an' what he had alius looked like it needed a fertilizer, but when he got to be about twenty-three it seemed like he jest nachally moulted an' when Myrtle came to Tarkio he hadn't much more hair than one o' them strictly- fresh eggs there has. "Well, he run Myrtle pretty hard an' she seemed ter THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 275 like him tol'able well until the other girls got to jokin' her about him an' then she shied off some. One day they'd been plagu'in' her an' she said she guessed if she took up with anybody it would be somebody that wouldn't need fly screenin' for the top of his head. O' course that got around to Pliny an' although he didn't let on I guess it worried him. He didn't go around to see her any more. "Well, soon after that old man Tipton found a bottle of truck in Pliny's room that it said on the label would sprout hair on a doorknob if the directions wus followed. I guess Pliny must have used a dozen of them bottles before he gave up. Then he tried another brand. That turned the top of his head brown, but it didn't sprout no hair. After that ol' Mis' Gladwin told him that a cousin of hers used strong sage tea an' he had got a crop as thick as a doormat inside o' six months. So Pliny got his mother to fix him up a mess of sage tea an' he rubbed it in accordin' ter direc- tions. He got the brown stain out that the other truck had left, but he didn't get no hair. "It was just about the end o' that when Shad Baxter come back from out West an' he told Pliny that when a Mexican's hair got anyways thin on top the feller took an' cut an onion in half an' rubbed that in' an' the hair 'ud jest nachally push through like timothy after a wet spell. He said they'd sometimes take them hairless dogs of theirs an' rub 'em with half an onion an' be able to sell 'em for Skye terriers inside of a week. Well, Pliny took the onion remedy on top o' the sage an' went about for awhile smellin' like turkey dressing. But even that didn't do no good. "Fin'ly Uncle Jake Sowerby got to talkin' to Pliny one day an' says he: 'The reason you don't have better luck with that there top growth is you don't let the sun get to it. It stands ter reason nothin' won't start ter growin' 'thout sunshine. Quit wearin' your hat an' you'll be all right.' "Pliny wusn't nobody's fool as a gen'ral thing, but he took out his knife an' cut the crown out of his hat. There,' he says, as he put on the brim, 'I'll give it a trial.' "It was right in the middle o' plantin' time then, but 276 THE SHRINE OF AESCULAPIUS Pliny didn't wear a blame thing on his head but that ol' hat brim for three days. The second day his head was blistered mighty bad. "The third day, though, he met Myrtle Beasley. She wus goin' along the road an' called to him in the field. I happened to be restin' in a shady corner of the fence ; that's how I know. When he came up she says: 'Why, Pliny Tipton !' " 'Yes,' said Pliny, colorin' up ; I'm wearin' this to grow hair. I've tried 'most everythin' else an' if it don't work I'll have ter take to fly screens.' "She colored up then. 'I'm sorry I said that,' she says. 'I didn't mean it. I mean I don't think no less o' you be- cause — Pliny, you're all blistered; did you do that because I said—' " 'I reckon not,' says Pliny ! 'I'm doin' it for fun ; I never thought o' you.' " 'You did, too/ she says, 'an' you needn't do it any more. I don't care whether you ever have a spear o' hair on your head. I think a heap more o' what's inside it. Pliny, I want you to forgive me.' " "What then ?" asked the storekeeper as Hancock paused. "I allow I'm not goin' ter tell all I know," replied Han- cock. DRUGGIST'S QUEER ORDERS An east side druggist is making a collection of the queer orders he receives from people who send children to the store for things they need. Here are a few samples of them: "This child is my little girl. I send you five cents to buy two sitless powders for a grown adult who is sike." An anxious mother writes : "You will pleas give the leetle boi 5 cents worth of THE STUDENT OF PHARMACY 277 epicac for to throw up a five months old babe. N. B. — The babe has a sore stummick." This one puzzled the druggist : "I have a cute pane in my child's diagram. Please give my son something to release it." Another anxious mother wrote: "My little baby has eat up its father's parish plasther. Send an antedote quick as possible by the enclosed little girl." THE DRUGGIST'S REVENGE 'That man wanted lemonade and insisted that I squeeze the lemons in his presence." "Did you do it?" "Yes, and I squeezed some into his eye." REPARTEE Observing the manager of the drug department, the woman accosted him, in a spirit of badinage. "I have kleptomania," she said. "What would you advise me to take?" "The elevator, by all means !" said the manager wittily. "And not something just as good?" exclaimed the woman, affecting great surprise. M UIN1VEK311I Uf LAUrUlUNIA L1DK.AKI Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. $g K 9wm.s>v!3§b f< ^ *. ,1k. L^ 2 WKS FROM RECBPT $Q MAY 2 o 1993 !\ RECEIVED <*S MAY 1 7 1993 fig ft ' -TV Form L9 -' 25 » l - 9 .' 47 ( A5618 ) 444