CHAPTER XXV.
"THE POOR CHILD DIED."
MY baby, nine months old, had some fever, and seemed very unwell. One neighbor said:
"You'd better send for the doctor."
Another suggested that it had, no doubt, eaten something that disagreed with it, and that a little antimonial wine would enable it to throw it off; another advised a few grains of calomel, and another a dose of rheubarb. But I said:
"No. I'll wait a little while, and see if it won't get better."
"You should give him medicine in time. Many a person dies from not taking medicine in time;" said a lady who expressed more than usual concern for the well-being of my baby. She had a very sick child herself.
"Many more die," I replied, "from taking medicine too soon. I believe that one half of the diseases in the world are produced by medicines, and that the other half are often made worse by their injudicious administration."
"You'd better send for the doctor," urged the lady.