A CASE OF INDIGESTION.
Scene—Dr. Gregory’s study. A table and two chairs.
Enter Patient (an unhappy Scotch merchant) from left. Dr. Gregory discovered reading (on right).
Patient. Good morning, Dr. Gregory! I’m just come into Edinburgh about some law business, and I thought when I was here, at any rate, I might just as weel take your advice, sir, about my trouble.
Doctor. Pray, sir, sit down. (Patient sits on left.) And now, my good sir, what may your trouble be?
Pa. Indeed, doctor, I’m not very sure, but I’m thinking it’s a kind of weakness that makes me dizzy at times, and a kind of pinkling about my stomach—I’m just na right.
Dr. You are from the west country, I should suppose, sir?
Pa. Yes, sir; from Glasgow.
Dr. Ay, pray, sir, are you a glutton?
Pa. Heaven forbid, sir! I am one of the plainest men living in the west country.
Dr. Then, perhaps, you are a drunkard?
Pa. No, Dr. Gregory, thank Heaven, no one can accuse me of that! I’m of the dissenting persuasion, doctor, and an elder, so you may suppose I’m na drunkard.
Dr. I’ll suppose no such thing till you tell me your mode of living. I’m so much puzzled with your symptoms, sir, that I should wish to hear in detail what you do eat and drink. When do you breakfast, and what do you take at it?
Pa. I breakfast at nine o’clock; take a cup of coffee, and one or two cups of tea, a couple of eggs, and a bit of ham or kippered salmon, or, maybe, both, if they’re good, and two or three rolls and butter.
Dr. Do you eat no honey, or jelly, or jam, at breakfast?
Pa. O, yes, sir! but I don’t count that as anything.
Dr. Come, this is a very moderate breakfast. What kind of a dinner do you make?
Pa. O, sir, I eat a very plain dinner, indeed. Some soup, and some fish, and a little plain roast or boiled; for I dinna care for made dishes; I think, some way, they never satisfy the appetite.
Dr. You take a little pudding, then, and afterwards some cheese?
Pa. O, yes! though I don’t care much about them.
Dr. You take a glass of ale or porter with your cheese?
Pa. Yes, one or the other; but seldom both.
Dr. You west-country people generally take a glass of Highland whiskey after dinner?
Pa. Yes, we do; it’s good for digestion.
Dr. Do you take any wine during dinner?
Pa. Yes, a glass or two of sherry; but I’m indifferent as to wine during dinner. I drink a good deal of beer.
Dr. What quantity of port do you drink?
Pa. O, very little; not above half a dozen glasses or so.
Dr. In the west country, it is impossible, I hear, to dine without punch?
Pa. Yes, sir; indeed, ’tis punch we drink chiefly; but, for myself, unless I happen to have a friend with me, I never take more than a couple of tumblers or so, and that’s moderate.
Dr. O, exceedingly moderate, indeed! You then, after this slight repast, take some tea and bread and butter?
Pa. Yes, before I go to the counting-house to read the evening letters.
Dr. And on your return you take supper, I suppose?
Pa. No, sir, I canna be said to take supper; just something before going to bed;—a rizzered haddock, or a bit of toasted cheese, or a half-hundred oysters, or the like o’that, and, maybe, two-thirds of a bottle of ale; but I take no regular supper.
Dr. But you take a little more punch after that?
Pa. No, sir; punch does not agree with me at bedtime. I take a tumbler of warm whiskey-toddy at night; it is lighter to sleep on.
Dr. So it must be, no doubt. This, you say, is your everyday life; but, upon great occasions, you perhaps exceed a little?
Pa. No, sir; except when a friend or two dine with me, or I dine out, which, as I am a sober family man, does not often happen.
Dr. Not above twice a week?
Pa. No, not oftener.
Dr. Of course you sleep well and have a good appetite?
Pa. Yes, sir, thank Heaven, I have; indeed, any ill health that I have is about mealtime.
Dr. (Rising with a severe air—the Patient also rises.) Now, sir, you are a very pretty fellow, indeed! You come here and tell me you are a moderate man; but, upon examination, I find, by your own showing, that you are a most voracious glutton. You said you were a sober man; yet, by your own showing, you are a beer-swiller, a dram-drinker, a wine-bibber, and a guzzler of punch. You tell me you eat indigestible suppers, and swill toddy to force sleep. I see that you chew tobacco. Now, sir, what human stomach can stand this? Go home, sir, and leave your present course of riotous living, and there are hopes that your stomach may recover its tone, and you be in good health, like your neighbors.
Pa. I’m sure, doctor, I’m very much obliged to you. (Taking out a bundle of bank notes.) I shall endeavor to——
Dr. Sir, you are not obliged to me:—put up your money, sir. Do you think I’ll take a fee for telling you what you know as well as myself? Though you’re no physician, sir, you are not altogether a fool. Go home, sir, and reform, or, take my word for it, your life is not worth half a year’s purchase.
Pa. Thank you, doctor, thank you. Good-day, doctor.
(Exit on right, followed by Doctor.)