"Hold on, Doctor," cried Fred; "I am very much interested in that baby. How did it come out on your Belladonna solution?"
"O yes! I should have said that it immediately went to sleep, and did not awaken for several hours. It never cried again, received no more medicine, and in a few weeks would have made a model picture for a patent baby food company. It only received the one little dose that I gave it."
"I declare," said the Count, laughing heartily, "that it sounds absurd beyond anything I ever heard in my life. Yet who has greater reason to know it to be absolutely true than myself. Go on, Doctor; I am prepared to believe anything you are pleased to tell us of your miraculous system."
"Before I go I think I will spin you one more story," said the Doctor, reseating himself. "This is what might be termed the reductio ad absurdum of prescribing merely for the disease by name, irrespective of symptomatology. I was called to see a poor Dutchman who was in the last stage of pulmonary consumption. He had just been brought home from a certain city, where he had been in a hospital for two or three months.
"Well, Hans," I said, "how did they use you at the hospital; they are very scientific there, you know, and must have done great things for you.'"
"O Doctor!" he groaned, "dondt speak aboudt dem fellers. Dey vos de piggest lot of shackasses I efer saw."
"Why, Hans, I am surprised at you! What did they do that did not please you?"
"Vell, I tells you. Ven I goes into dot hoshpital, dey oxamines mine lungs. Den dey puts me into a pedt mit a pig card hanging ofer mine hedt, und dere vos on dot card in pig letters, de vird, CONSUMPTION. I tink dey puts dot card dere to encourage me ven I looks at him. Und in a leedle pox py mine hedt, dey puts a pottle of medticine und say to me, 'You dakes a teaspoonful of dot efery dree hours.' So I do dot. It vos awful stuff but I sticks to him aboudt dree veeks. Den I can no more dake it. It makes me so seek to mine stummick dot I gan no more eat anyting. So I say to de steward von morning, 'I gan no more dake dot medticine. I must haf some oder kind.' Vell, sir, you should haf seen dot feller look at me. He lifts up his hands und says, 'I shoost adtmire you, Hans.' 'What for you adtmire me?' 'Pecause you vos de piggest kicker dot efer comes into dis hoshpital. Now look at yourself. You vos oxamined und put into de ped to which you pelong. Dere ish de card hanging ofer your hedt vot tells vot vos der matter mit you. Und den dere ish der medticine for consumption in de pottle py your hedt. Dot medticine is Doctor Smith's favorite prescription for dot disease. Und mit all dot you kicks. Vot more do you want?' 'Vell,' I say, 'I gan no more dake dot medticine. It makes me awful seek.' 'Now, Hans, dondt be so unreasonable. You pelongs to dot ped, und whoefer goes into dot ped dakes dot medticine. Dondt you see?' 'But I dells you dot I gan no more dake dot medticine. It vill kill me. If no oder medticine goes mit this ped, put me in some oder ped dot has a tifferent pottle, I cares not what it is.' But no, sir! dey keeps me in dot ped. So I spidts Doctor Smith's tam stuff into de slop bowl, und comes home so quick as I gan."
"I could hardly credit Hans' story, and told it as a joke to an old school physician who was familiar with the hospital where Hans had been. To my surprise he did not seem to see any joke in it. 'Can it be possible,' said I, 'that Hans told the truth?' 'Well,' said he, 'in all but one particular I think that he did.' 'And what was that particular?' I asked. 'The card above his head did not have on it, 'Consumption,' but 'Phthisis Pulmonalis.'"