“The action of the New York Board of Health, in recommending to tenement house parents, that on the hottest days of summer a few drops of whisky be added to the water or food of their infants, has received a strong protest and rebuke in a meeting at Prohibition Park, where the opinions of eminent physicians, collected by the Voice, were read, condemning such a course. A resolution of protest was also adopted.”—Sel.
“For nineteen years we lived with a physician whose success may be estimated from this one item: He had between 1,600 and 1,700 labor cases, and never once lost the mother, and only twice the child, and what seems still more remarkable never used instruments. When other physicians, as often happened, would come to him to know how he did it, he always answered, ‘A woman will do anything if you only encourage her.’ Nor was obstetrics his specialty—he had none.
“In a fifteen years’ practice in Chicago and New York, where these diseases are so very fatal, and he was much sought after to treat them, he did not lose a case of scarlet fever, diphtheria or cholera infantum which he managed himself, and saved many a one where he was called in consultation, or after some other physician. Now when such a man after an experience more than fifty years long and as wide as the continent, gives it as his unqualified opinion that wines, beers, liquors of every kind, alcohol itself, are not medicines and should never be used as such, for scientific reasons, not to mention moral, is not his opinion entitled to a hearing? Isn’t it probable it weighs more than the doctor’s you were just quoting? Is it too great a risk to act upon it?”—Pacific Ensign.
“A lady, Mrs. A., tenderly nurtured, refined, cultured, moving in an influential position, belonged to a family in whom the tendency to intemperance existed. Realizing the danger, she, for seven years of her married life, adhered to total abstinence. Illness came, and the doctor ordered wine; and her husband, deaf to her arguments, insisted on her taking it. She fell into habits of intemperance. Her husband died, and for a time she pulled up and trained as a hospital nurse; but temptation prevailed, and she fell from bad to worse. Loving hands received her time after time, and at last placed her in an Inebriate Home. For a short time she did well, but soon became unmanageable. After another desperate period she entered a second home, but after leaving she yielded again, was twice in prison, and fell into the lowest degradation and utter ruin, surely deserving our deepest pity. Her doctor and her husband had persisted in working her fall in spite of her own strongest convictions.”—Selected.
They did not Die.—“Dr. Lord of Pasadena suffered from rheumatism of the heart for more than half of a long lifetime. No doctor ever felt his pulse (which intermitted) without exclaiming, ‘Why, doctor, you have no business to be alive with such a pulse,’—or something similar. For nineteen years his wife never retired without having at least one medicine she could put her hand on in the dark, the ammonia bottle within reach, the electric battery ready to start like a fire-engine, and preparations for heating water in less than no time. His acute attacks usually came in the night—an uninterrupted night’s sleep was something unknown to either the doctor or his wife in all these years.
“They lived in sight of an open grave, and seldom a week passed when it did not seem as if death had actually occurred. If ever a case called for alcoholic stimulants this one did. But none were ever administered, none were ever kept in the house. The doctor’s standing orders were: ‘If all the doctors in the country order you to give me liquor, and say my life depends upon it, don’t do it. Tell them I know more about it than they do. It won’t save my life; it will only lessen what little chance I have.’ All who knew about this case, and hundreds did, were driven to the conclusion that if these two people, one in this condition and the other feeble, could live all alone as they did, miles from a doctor, and neighbors not near, and could get along without alcoholics of any kind, everybody can do the same everywhere. And the doctor finally wore out his heart trouble and died of another disease.”—Pacific Ensign.
An English weekly journal is responsible for the following anecdote:—
“A Birmingham physician has had an amusing experience. The other day a somewhat distracted mother brought her daughter to see him. The girl was suffering from what is known among people as ‘general lowness.’ There was nothing much the matter with her, but she was pale and listless and did not care about eating or doing anything. The doctor, after due consultation, prescribed for her a glass of claret three times a day with her meals. The mother was somewhat deaf, but apparently heard all he said and bore off her daughter, determined to carry out the prescription to the very letter. In ten days’ time they were back again, and the girl looked a different creature. She was rosy-cheeked, smiling and the picture of health. The doctor congratulated himself on his diagnosis of the case. ‘I am glad to see that your daughter is so much better,’ he said. ‘Yes,’ exclaimed the excited and grateful mother. ‘Thanks to you, doctor! She has had just what you ordered. She has eaten carrots three times a day since we were here, and sometimes oftener—and once or twice uncooked—and now look at her!’”
The Rest Cure:—“After all, the veneer of civilization is quite thin. Scratch most people, and very near the surface you come on the savage. This is specially true when they are sick. They at once want charms and miracles to restore them to health, and come to the doctor or ‘medicine man,’ as they look upon him—with this demand: ‘I want something, doctor, to fix me up.’ But he, unhappy man, has not wherewith to satisfy them, unless he is a quack.
“He knows that in most cases all he can do is to give advice as to how best Nature may be allowed to effect a cure; for Nature is the great physician, and the doctor’s main duty is to stand by and see that she gets fair play. Nature’s chief cure, in a large number of the diseases to which flesh is heir, is rest. The tired man needs rest. The tired brain, the tired stomach, the tired liver and kidneys, need the same rest.