I was getting a little piqued. I concluded to put my application in to several other companies and take the first policy issued. In pursuance of this idea I was examined by Dr. Palpitation of the M. of N. Y. company, and he discovered that I was liable to drop off at any time from heart failure. He said that he did not wish to alarm me, but I needed medical care and a very wise and sustained course of treatment.
At this stage of the proceedings I went to the only physician I had ever employed for any slight ills during my past career and had him put me through a thorough and exhaustive physical examination without disclosing anything of my motive for so doing. He pronounced me fit for the coming boat race, which was to be an unusually trying one.
"Any trace of albumen, doctor?" I asked.
"None—not a trace."
"Nothing wrong with my heart or lungs?"
"Look here, boy. If you never die until they give out, you're going under from old age. I tell you, you are as sound a man as ever lived. There is absolutely nothing to hang a suspicion of any disorder on. For my sake I wish there was," he added, laughing and slapping his pocket.
The next day I had a call from the doctor who had examined me for the E. of Y. He said that he'd like to have a second pass at my eyes. He thought there was a look in one of them that indicated softening of the brain. I laughed.
He remarked that people in the first stages of that trouble usually took it just that way. It was a symptom.
"You confounded old fool!" said I, losing my temper. "Are you in earnest? I supposed you were joking from the first but if you're talking as good sense as you've got just leave this office. I—"
He left.