Doctor Jones' Picnic Part 16

"By the only method that can satisfy the human mind--practical experience and demonstration. Nothing else will do. Theory is all well enough, but if it cannot stand the test of experiment it is of no sort of use. There is not a crowned head nor potentate in Europe before whom I would not gladly and fearlessly put my system to such test. Give me but a clear cut case--one that has not been spoiled by ma.s.sive dosage or surgery, and I am willing that the system shall stand or fall by the result."

"That is perfectly fair, and I know, Doctor, that you would succeed,"

said the Count. "And I will say, further, that I am at your service to promulgate your system in Russia. I have influence at court, and I can put it to no better use than to help you present the system of medicine which you represent to those in a position to open our door to your school."

"If you will do that, sir, I shall never regret our having been blown out of our course into Russia. If I can thus be instrumental in the salvation of countless thousands of G.o.d's suffering children, I shall feel that I have not lived in vain, whether I ever reach the North Pole or not. Do not think, Professor, that I have in any degree lost interest in our original enterprise. But, meantime, I must do what I can for humanity when opportunity occurs."

"You are doing that, Doctor, and I heartily sympathize with you in your labors," answered the Professor. "I only insist that, when permitted by the fair Feodora, we sail immediately for our destination."

"That we will, Professor, and I promise not to enter into any arrangements that shall prevent our going as soon as possible," replied Dr. Jones.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," interrupted the Count, "but I wish to ask the Doctor for information. As you know, I have had a considerable amount of experience with the regular school of medicine, and you also know that I was thoroughly disgusted with it when you came so opportunely. I have carefully observed your methods, Dr. Jones, and I notice this essential difference between the two schools: The old school physicians are exceedingly particular in their examinations and explorations. They seem extremely worried about naming the disease and knowing the exact condition of the diseased tissues, but they do not appear to be able to manage the practical part of the business--cure. You, as a representative of the other system, do not lay so much stress upon these things, but do take cognizance of the symptoms in each case with surprising particularity. And I notice that you appear to base your prescription solely upon what you term the 'totality of symptoms.' How nearly am I right?"

"Count, you have apprehended the exact condition of things. It is well enough to know all we can of the state of the organ or organs that we are treating; but suppose I spend hours examining a patient with all the appliances known to medicine, and have determined to a certainty the name of the disease with which my patient is afflicted, I am now no nearer knowing the remedy indicated in this case than I was before I made the examination. I must go back and take all the symptoms into account, both subjective and objective before I can intelligently prescribe."

"I do not see, then, that it makes any difference whether you know all about the condition of the organs, or can name the disease or not," said Will.

"Good boy, Will," smiled the Doctor. "You're learning fast. It is an absolute fact that some of the best shots I ever made were where neither I, nor any living man, could make what we term the diagnosis--that is, name the disease. I will give you a case in point: A good many years ago, when I was quite a young physician, there came into my office a man who desired me to go with him and see a sick babe. I found the most miserable looking three months' old child I had ever seen. Nothing could exceed the emaciation and puniness of the little creature, and the mother was carrying it about upon a pillow. For six weeks it had cried night and day, almost incessantly, except when under the influence of opiates. Five old school doctors had done what they could, and at last had declared that it could not live. They had not been able to establish the diagnosis, and so were at sea as to treatment. I sat beside it and studied the case as closely as possible for more than an hour. There was but one peculiarity or symptom upon which to base a prescription. It was this: It would lie a few moments apparently asleep, then it would give a start and begin to scream with all its puny power. This would last one or two minutes, when it would as suddenly fall asleep again. This, they a.s.sured me, was the way it had performed all through its illness, except when opiated. 'Pains come and go suddenly.' That was all I had to go on. I could not locate the pains, nor by any possible means know what the cause of them was; but I did know, thank G.o.d, what was of infinitely greater importance: I knew the drug that had that particular symptom, and that was Belladonna. Into half a tumblerful of water I dropped five or six drops of the two hundredth dilution of that drug, and put a few drops of this medicated water into the poor little thing's mouth."

Here the Doctor stopped, knocked the ashes from his pipe, arose and started as if to leave the room.

"Hold on, Doctor," cried Fred; "I am very much interested in that baby.

How did it come out on your Belladonna solution?"

"O yes! I should have said that it immediately went to sleep, and did not awaken for several hours. It never cried again, received no more medicine, and in a few weeks would have made a model picture for a patent baby food company. It only received the one little dose that I gave it."

"I declare," said the Count, laughing heartily, "that it sounds absurd beyond anything I ever heard in my life. Yet who has greater reason to know it to be absolutely true than myself. Go on, Doctor; I am prepared to believe anything you are pleased to tell us of your miraculous system."

"Before I go I think I will spin you one more story," said the Doctor, reseating himself. "This is what might be termed the reductio ad absurdum of prescribing merely for the disease by name, irrespective of symptomatology. I was called to see a poor Dutchman who was in the last stage of pulmonary consumption. He had just been brought home from a certain city, where he had been in a hospital for two or three months.

"Well, Hans," I said, "how did they use you at the hospital; they are very scientific there, you know, and must have done great things for you.'"

"O Doctor!" he groaned, "dondt speak aboudt dem fellers. Dey vos de piggest lot of shacka.s.ses I efer saw."

"Why, Hans, I am surprised at you! What did they do that did not please you?"

"Vell, I tells you. Ven I goes into dot hoshpital, dey oxamines mine lungs. Den dey puts me into a pedt mit a pig card hanging ofer mine hedt, und dere vos on dot card in pig letters, de vird, CONSUMPTION. I tink dey puts dot card dere to encourage me ven I looks at him. Und in a leedle pox py mine hedt, dey puts a pottle of medticine und say to me, 'You dakes a teaspoonful of dot efery dree hours.' So I do dot. It vos awful stuff but I sticks to him aboudt dree veeks. Den I can no more dake it. It makes me so seek to mine stummick dot I gan no more eat anyting. So I say to de steward von morning, 'I gan no more dake dot medticine. I must haf some oder kind.' Vell, sir, you should haf seen dot feller look at me. He lifts up his hands und says, 'I shoost adtmire you, Hans.' 'What for you adtmire me?' 'Pecause you vos de piggest kicker dot efer comes into dis hoshpital. Now look at yourself. You vos oxamined und put into de ped to which you pelong. Dere ish de card hanging ofer your hedt vot tells vot vos der matter mit you. Und den dere ish der medticine for consumption in de pottle py your hedt. Dot medticine is Doctor Smith's favorite prescription for dot disease. Und mit all dot you kicks. Vot more do you want?' 'Vell,' I say, 'I gan no more dake dot medticine. It makes me awful seek.' 'Now, Hans, dondt be so unreasonable. You pelongs to dot ped, und whoefer goes into dot ped dakes dot medticine. Dondt you see?' 'But I dells you dot I gan no more dake dot medticine. It vill kill me. If no oder medticine goes mit this ped, put me in some oder ped dot has a tifferent pottle, I cares not what it is.' But no, sir! dey keeps me in dot ped. So I spidts Doctor Smith's tam stuff into de slop bowl, und comes home so quick as I gan."

"I could hardly credit Hans' story, and told it as a joke to an old school physician who was familiar with the hospital where Hans had been.

To my surprise he did not seem to see any joke in it. 'Can it be possible,' said I, 'that Hans told the truth?' 'Well,' said he, 'in all but one particular I think that he did.' 'And what was that particular?'

I asked. 'The card above his head did not have on it, 'Consumption,' but 'Phthisis Pulmonalis.'"

CHAPTER XVI.

The Count Steps Over the Line.

The Silver Cloud's crew, if we may so term it, had busied themselves in various ways, according to their several dispositions and bents of mind.

Dr. Jones was occupied more or less of the time with the invalids, who came to him from far and wide. The most inveterate cases of chronic diseases const.i.tuted the bulk of his practice, and the cures that he made were truly marvelous. The patience and interest of the Count never flagged a moment. He continued at his post and interpreted for the Doctor with surprising fidelity. Dr. Jones was so pleased with him that he explained to his n.o.ble student every case for which he proscribed, told him the name of the drug and precisely why he gave it. Surely here was a model teacher and an ideal student.

Let it not be inferred that our Doctor was infallible, nor that he always cured.

"There are many cases that are incurable, Sir Count, and we must learn to know them almost by intuition. The causes of failure are numerous, but you will notice that they are always to be found in the physician or patient; never in the law of cure. If I be not able to apprehend and duly estimate the symptoms of a given case, I must, of necessity, fail to cure. Or if the patient be unruly, stupid, or willful, he must pay the penalty. Frequently, the case has been rendered incurable by ma.s.sive dosage or surgery. My system cures all that is curable when intelligently applied. And you will notice that in some instances there is an absolute dearth of symptoms. You also observe that I give them a dose and tell them to return in a week or ten days. When they return they often exhibit a splendid crop of symptoms, and I experience no trouble then in finding the remedy. These cases usually have a history of suppressed eruption. At some time in their lives the itch, or eczema, or some other skin trouble has been driven into their system by external medicaments in the form of ointments, washes, etc. Lifelong ailments, over which the old school have no control, are the result. A large percentage of chronic diseases are due to this cause alone."

And so, during their leisure hours, sitting in the Count's office, or peripatetically as they walked together in the park, the enthusiastic Doctor taught his willing and attentive pupil.

"Just see those two inseparables!" cried Feodora to Mrs. Jones and Mattie, as they sat by the front reception-room window, looking out upon the park. The Doctor and Count were promenading before the great building, the former with head erect, hands extended before him, lecturing upon his favorite theme. The towering figure of the Count strode along beside him, hands clasped behind and head bent well forward, listening attentively to every word.

"I do believe that my father will be so enthusiastic a convert to the Doctor's system, that he will get books and medicines and practice upon our poor people when you are gone," said Feodora.

"And he could not do a better thing," answered Mrs. Jones. "I have known laymen who made very fine prescribers. The Count could do a vast amount of good with a set of books and medicines."

"Then you can rest a.s.sured that he will do so," returned Feodora. "My father is a very benevolent man naturally, but was fast becoming a misanthrope when you came among us. I shall never cease thanking G.o.d for the northern gale that blew you here."

"Nor shall I, dear Feodora," said Mrs. Jones, kissing her with great affection. "And I really dread the time when we must leave you. But you are improving so rapidly that we must go before many weeks."

"I am glad to get well, but I do feel sorry to think of your going. But I do not give up ever seeing you again. You will go to the North Pole in a short time, and then return home. You will write me from there, both you and Mattie, and then my father and I will visit you and bring you home with us. You must spend a winter with us in our capital city. It is the most beautiful and gayest city in Europe in its season."

"And you shall spend a winter in Washington," returned Mrs. Jones.

"I have never seen anything so beautiful as Washington," said Mattie.

And so the friends chatted and cemented their acquaintance and friendship day by day, planning for future enjoyment of each other's society.

The Count and Feodora were greatly interested in their account of their visit with the Barton family in Labrador.

"By the way," said Mattie, "let's go up to Will's studio and see his painting of Jennie Barton."

Feodora readily a.s.sented. "I have been longing for some time to see the interior of your beautiful cabin," she said.

They slowly walked to the cage and mounted to the cabin, a distance of but fifty feet. They found Will at work upon a local landscape. He was delighted to receive the ladies, especially Feodora. "This augurs well for our sailing soon, Miss Feodora. And I cannot tell you how glad we all are to see you recovering so rapidly."

"I told Feodora that you had made a fine painting of Jennie Barton. We have told her all about our visit in Labrador, and she wishes to see your painting of Jennie," said Mattie.

"I am only too proud to show it her," answered Will, and he removed a cloth from the painting that rested upon an easel.

"What a sweet, lovely face!" exclaimed Feodora. "I have never seen anything sweeter in my life."

Will hastened to a.s.sure her, though he flushed with pride, that it lacked very much of doing the fair Jennie justice.

"There is something so good and pure in that face, that it rests one to look at it," said the fair Russian.

"Would you accept it from me as a present?" asked Will.

"O Mr. Marsh! would you really part with it?"