Such is cocaine, and such is its effect upon every mucous membrane. We have referred to its utility in the practice of ophthalmic surgeons; but it is not only in this department of the healing art that cocaine has been found useful; it can be employed whenever an operation upon any mucous membrane has to be performed. The drug has been used in the extraction and stopping of teeth; and results, nothing less than startling in their completeness, have been obtained with cocaine in all branches of medicine and surgery, bringing relief to thousands of sufferers, and—it is true to remark—more than that, unqualified gratification to the physician or surgeon in charge. Even that immemorial bugbear, sea-sickness, has often fled before the influence of cocaine.
One word more. In the present prosaic condition of the world, when the surfeit of new discoveries seems to have bred in this connection the familiarity which produces the conventional contempt, it is refreshing to draw attention to a discovery which has surpassed the ordinary standard of greatness sufficiently to enable it to figure as a wonder of the age. Cocaine flashed like a meteor before the eyes of the medical world, but, unlike a meteor, its impressions have proved to be enduring; while it is destined in the future to occupy a high position in the estimation of those whom duty requires to combat the ravages of disease.
IN ALL SHADES.
BY GRANT ALLEN,
Author of ‘Babylon,’ ‘Strange Stories,’ etc. etc.
CHAPTER XII.
On the morning when the Severn was to reach Trinidad, everybody was up betimes and eagerly looking for the expected land. Nora and Marian went up on deck before breakfast, and there found Dr Whitaker, opera-glass in hand, scanning the horizon for the first sight of his native island. ‘I haven’t seen it or my dear father,’ he said to Marian, ‘for nearly ten years, and I can’t tell you how anxious I am once more to see him. I wonder whether he’ll have altered much! But there—ten years is a long time. After ten years, one’s pictures of home and friends begin to get terribly indefinite. Still, I shall know him—I’m sure I shall know him. He’ll be on the wharf to welcome us in, and I’m sure I shall recognise his dear old face again.’
‘Your father’s very well known in the island, the captain tells me,’ Marian said, anxious to show some interest in what interested him so much. ‘I believe he was very influential in helping to get slavery abolished.’
‘He was,’ the young doctor answered, kindling up afresh with his ever-ready enthusiasm—‘he was; very influential. Mr Wilberforce considered that my father, Robert Whitaker, was one of his most powerful coloured supporters in any of the colonies. I’m proud of my father, Mrs Hawthorn—proud of the part he bore in the great revolution which freed my race. I’m proud to think that I’m the son of such a man as Robert Whitaker.’
‘Now, then, ladies,’ the captain put in drily, coming upon them suddenly from behind; ‘breakfast’s ready, and you won’t sight Trinidad, I take it, for at least another fifty minutes. Plenty of time to get your breakfast quietly and comfortably, and pack your traps up, before you come in sight of the Port-o’-Spain lighthouse.’