As the superintendent of the column signed “M.D.,” the lady who had failed as an art critic, as a reviewer, and as an interviewer, had at last found a haven of rest. Of course, when she undertook the duties incidental to the post she knew nothing whatever of medicine. But since then, my informant assured me that she had been gradually “feeling her way,” and now, by the aid of a half-crown handbook, she can give the best medical advice that can be secured in all London for a halfpenny fee.
I had the curiosity to glance down one of her columns the other day. It ran something like this:—
“Gladys.—Delighted to hear that you like your new mistress, and that the cook is not the tyrant that your last was. As scullery-maid I believe you are entitled to every second evening out. But better apply (enclosing coupon) to the Superintendent of the Domestic Department. Regarding the eruptions on the forehead, they may have been caused by the use of too hot curling tongs on your fringe. Why not try the new magnetic curlers? (see advertisement, p. 9). It would be hard to be compelled to abandon so luxurious a fringe for the sake of a pimple or two. Thanks for your kind wishes. Your handwriting is striking, but I must have an impression of your palm in wax, or on a piece of paper rubbed with lamp-black, before I can predict anything certain regarding your chances of a brilliant marriage.”
“Airy Fairy Lilian.—What a pretty pseudonym! Where did you contrive to find it? Yes, I think that perhaps the doctor who visited you was right after all. The symptoms were certainly those of typhoid. Have you tried the new Omniherbal Typhoid Tablets (see advertisement, p. 8). If not too late they might be of real service to you.”
“Harebell.—I should say that if your waist is now forty-two inches, it would be extremely imprudent for you to try and reduce it by more than ten or eleven inches. Besides, there is no beauty in a wasp-like waist. The slight redness on the outside tegument of the nose probably proceeds from cold, or most likely heat. Try a little poudre des fées (see advertisement, p. 9).”
“Shy Susy.—It is impossible to answer inquiries in this column in less than a month. (1) If your tooth continues to ache, why not go to Mr. Hiram P. Prosser, American Dental Surgeon (see advertisement, p. 8), and have it out. (2) The best volume on Etiquette is by the Countess of D. It is entitled ‘How to Behave’ (see advertisement outside cover). (3) No; to change hats in the train does not imply a promise to marry. It would, however, tell against the defendant in the witness-box. (4) Decidedly not; you should not allow a complete stranger to see you to your door, unless he is exceptionally good-looking. (5) Patchouli is the most fashionable scent.”
I do not suppose that this enterprising young woman is an honoured guest at the annual meeting of the British Medical Association. Certainly no lady superintendent of the health columns of a halfpenny weekly paper was pointed out to me at the one meeting of this body which I had the privilege of attending, and at which, by the way, some rather amusing incidents occurred.
An annual, meeting of the British Medical Association seemed to me to be a delightful function. For some days there were fêtes (with fireworks), receptions (with military bands playing), dances (with that exhilarating champagne that comes from the Saumur districts), excursions to neighbouring ruins of historic interest, and the common or garden-party in abundance. In addition to all these, a rumour was circulated that papers were being read in some out-of-the-way hall—no one seemed to know where it was situated, and the report was generally regarded as a hoax—on modern therapeutics, for the entertainment of such visitors as might be interested in the progress of medical science.
No one seemed interested in that particular line.