As my greatest ambition in this life tends only in becoming useful, I shall studiously avoid that false pride of appearing learned.
There is perhaps not a medicine in the modern materia medica, but what I have examined into, and opportunely experienced the virtue of; but so often have I been deceived in my expectations, that out of the many hundreds, with which I am acquainted, there are not above a score, or at farthest two, which in any case whatever I should expect any benefit from. Yet I mean not to throw out prejudices, for every physical man has his favourite medicine, and we are all apt to praise the bridge that carries us well over.
The little assortment of medicines however, which I here offer, I know from experience to be good, and as such I recommend them. I have plowed the ocean myself, visited most climates in the known world, and in my practice on that precarious element, drawn such observations, as makes me happy to think, that they may prove useful to a class of men, who daily experience the uncertainty of human life.
In the first place I shall draw the plan of a sea medicine box, as may suit a ship that carries no surgeon; in which I shall endeavour to be so plain as I hope will prevent any mistake.
The MEDICINE CHEST.
Of the Utensils.
First then, I shall speak of the utensils and the instruments which must necessarily belong to a medicine box, be it ever so small.
In the box, No. 1.
Lancets: There ought to be three or four, and they should always be kept clean and bright in a case, free, as much as may best from the dampness of the sea air. The best method for this is, to wipe them often with a dry clean linen cloth, warmed by the fire, (taking care in the wiping of them, that the blade of the lancet lays upon one of the handles, by which the point is preserved) and when properly cleaned, wrap the whole case up in a large piece of dry paper. Let it be a constant rule, to clean them well every time they are made use of.