Off-Hand Sketches, a Little Dashed with Humor Part 31

"Still, that is much better than having caries of the jaw, which has been known to attend an abscess at the root of a tooth."

"But this does not always follow?"

"No. It is of rare occurrence, I believe. Though no one knows when such a disease exists, nor where it is going to terminate. Even apart from caries of the jaw, the thing is painful enough. Mrs.

T--, an intimate friend of mine, suffered for nearly a mouth, night and day, and finally had to have the tooth extracted, when her mouth was so much inflamed, and so tender, that the slightest touch caused the most exquisite pain. A tumor was found at the root of the tooth as large as a pigeon's egg!"

This completed the entire overthrow of my nerves. I begged my friend, in mercy to spare me any further relations of this kind. She seemed half offended, and I had to explain the state of mind which had been produced by what a former visitor had said. She, evidently, thought me a very weak woman. No doubt I am.

"In the dumps again, Kate?" said my husband, when he returned home in the evening. "What is the matter now?"

"Enough to put you or any one else in the dumps," I replied fretfully. "This tooth-ache grows worse, instead of better."

"Does it, indeed? I am really very sorry. Can't any thing be done to relieve you?"

"Nothing, I am persuaded. The tooth is sound, and there must be an abscess forming at the root, to occasion so much pain."

"Who, in the name of common sense, has put this in your head?"

My husband was worried.

"Has Mrs. A--been here again?"

"No," was my simple response.

"Then what has conjured up this bugbear to frighten you out of your seven senses?"

I didn't like this language at all. My husband seemed captious and unreasonable. Dear soul! I supposed he had cause; for they say a nervous woman is enough to worry a man's life out of him; and, dear knows, I am nervous enough! But I had only my fears before me then: I saw that my husband did not sympathize with me in the least. I merely replied--

"It may be very well for you to speak to your wife in this way, after she has suffered for nearly three days with a wretched tooth-ache. If the tooth were at all decayed, or there were any apparent cause for the pain, I could bear it well enough, and wouldn't trouble you about it. But it is so clear to my mind now, that nothing but a tumour forming at the root could produce such a steady, deep-seated, throbbing pain, that I am with reason alarmed; and, instead of sympathy from my husband I am met with something very much like ridicule."

"My dear Kate," said my husband, tenderly, and in a serious voice, "pardon my apparent harshness and indifference. If you are really so serious about the matter, it may be as well to consult a dentist, and get his advice. He may be able to relieve very greatly your fears, if not the pain in your jaw."

"He will order the tooth to be extracted, I have not the least doubt."

"If there should be a tumour at the root, it will be much safer to have it out than let it remain."

A visit to the dentist at once was so strenuously urged by my husband, that I couldn't refuse to go. I got myself ready, and we went around before tea. I did not leave the house, however, before making my husband promise he would not insist upon my having the tooth taken out on the first visit. This he did readily.

The dentist, after examining very carefully the tooth pointed out to him, said that he didn't believe that tooth ached at all.

"Not ache, doctor?" said I, a little indignantly.

"If you had it in your head, you would think it ached."

"Pardon me, madam," he returned, with a polite bow. "I did not mean to say that you were not in pain. I only mean to say that I think that you are mistaken in its exact locality."

"I don't see how I can be. I have had it long enough, I should think, to determine its locality with some certainty."

"Let me examine your mouth again, madam," said the dentist.

This time he examined the right jaw--the pain was on the left side.

"I think I have found out the enemy," said he, as he took the instrument from my mouth with which he had been sounding my teeth.

"The corresponding tooth on the other side has commenced decaying, and the nerve is already slightly exposed."

"But what has that to do with this side?" I put my hand where the pain was, as I spoke.

"It may have a good deal to do with it. We shall soon see." And he went to his case of instruments.

"You are not going to extract it, doctor!" I rose from the operating chair in alarm.

"Oh no, no, madam! I am only going to put something into it, to destroy the sensibility of the nerve, previous to preparing it for being filled. The tooth can still be preserved. We will know in a minute or two whether all the difficulty lies here."

A preparation, in which I could perceive the taste and odour of creosote, was inserted in the cavity of the decayed tooth. In less than five seconds I was free from pain.

"I thought that was it," said the dentist, smiling. "A sound tooth is not very apt to ache of itself. It is sometimes difficult to tell which is the troublesome member. But we have discovered the offending one this time, and will put an end to the disturbance he has been creating."

I could say not a word. My husband looked at me with a humorous expression in his eye. After we were in the street, he remarked, pleasantly--

"No abscess yet, my dear. Were it not for physicians, who understand their business, I am afraid your Job's comforters would soon have you imagine yourself dying, and keep up the illusion until you actually gave up the ghost."

"I really am ashamed of myself," I replied; "but you know how shattered my nerves are, and how little a thing it takes to unsettle me. I do wish my Job's comforters, as you call them, would have more discretion than to talk to me as they do."

"Let them talk; you know it is all talk."

"No--not all talk. They relate real cases of disease and suffering, and I immediately imagine that I have all the symptoms that ultimately lead to the same sad results."

"Be a woman, Kate! be a woman," responded my husband.

This was all very well, and all easily said. I believe, however, I am a woman, but a woman of the nineteenth century, with nerves far too delicately strung. Ah me! if some of my kind friends would only be a little more thoughtful, they would save me many a wretched day.

I hope this will meet the eyes of some of them, and that they will read it to a little profit. It may save others, if it does not save me from a repet.i.tion of such things as I have described.

THE CODE OF HONOUR.

TWO young men, one with a leather cap on his head and military b.u.t.tons on his coat, sat in close conversation, long years ago, in the bar-room of the--Hotel. The subject that occupied their attention seemed to be a very exciting one, at least to him of the military b.u.t.tons and black cap, for he emphasized strongly, knit his brow awfully, and at last went so far as to swear a terrible oath.

"Don't permit yourself to get so excited, Tom," interposed a friend.

"It won't help the matter at all."

"But I've got no patience."

"Then it is time you had some," coolly returned the friend. "If you intend pushing your way into the good graces of my lady Mary Clinton, you must do something more than fume about the little matter of rivalry that has sprung up."

"Yes; but to think of a poor milk-sop of an author--author?--pah!--scribbler!--to think, I say, of a spiritless creature like Blake thrusting himself between me and such a girl as Mary Clinton; and worse, gaining her notice, is too bad! He has sonneteered her eyebrows, no doubt--flattered her in verse until she don't know who or where she is, and in this way become a formidable rival. But I won't bear it--I'll--ll"--