THE DOCTOR’s EMBARRASSMENT.
Sunday, Aug. 3.—This morning I was so violently oppressed by a cold, which turns out to be the influenza, it was with the utmost difficulty I could dress myself. I did indeed now want some assistant most wofully.
The princess royal has already been some days disturbed with this influenza. When the queen perceived it in me she told his majesty, who came into the room just as she was going to breakfast. Without making any answer, he himself went immediately to call Mr. Clerk, the apothecary, who was then with the princess royal.
“Now, Mr. Clerk,” cried he, “here’s another patient for you.”
Mr. Clerk, a modest, sensible man, concluded, by the king himself having called him, that it was the queen he had now to attend, and he stood bowing profoundly before her but soon observing she did not notice him, he turned in some confusion to the Princess Augusta, who was now in the group.
“No, no! it’s not me, Mr. Clerk, thank God!” cried the gay Princess Augusta.
Still more confused, the poor man advanced to Princess Elizabeth.
“No, no; it’s not her!” cried the king.
I had held back, having scarce power to open my eyes, from a vehement head-ache, and not, indeed, wishing to go through my examination till there were fewer witnesses. But his majesty now drew me out.
“Here, Mr. Clerk,” he cried, “this is your new patient!”