A Canadian, of a nervous, consumptive diathesis, went down to Portland, Maine, to consult a physician, and fell in with old Dr. F., whom he found busily engaged in examining some papers. The old doctor heard his case, and hurriedly wrote him a prescription. The chirography of the doctor was none of the best, yet the Portland druggists, who were familiar with his scrawls, could easily decipher his prescriptions. Not so the country apothecary, to whom the patient took the recipe, to save expense, which was something as follows: “Spiritus frumenti et valerianum,” etc.; then followed the directions for taking.
After much delay and consultation with the green-grocer boy, it was put up as a painter’s article, viz., “spirits turpentine and varnish.”
The first glass-full satisfied the invalid.
Drunk, or Sober.
A gentleman, knowing the parties in his boyhood, rehearsed to me the following anecdote:—
Old Dr. Gallup, of ——, N. H., was an excellent physician, whose failing lay in his propensity to imbibe more spirits then he could carry off.
“Are you drunk, or sober?” was no unusual question, put by those requiring his services, before permitting the old doctor to prescribe.
“PUMPING” AN OLD LADY.