| "The Mercurial | Disease, |
| The Belladonna | do |
| The Stramonium | do |
| The Tobacco | do |
| The Cicuta | do |
| The Butter Cup | do |
| The Colchicum | do |
| The Colocynth | do |
| The Pork or Hog | do |
| The Vinegar | do |
| The Fool's Parsley | do |
| The Fox Glove | do |
| The Nux Vomica | do |
| The Quassia | do |
| The Opium | do |
| The Hellebore | do |
| The Salt | do |
| The Mineral Acid | do |
| The Acrid | do |
| The Putrid | do" |
If on examination the curious reader should find no such disease as the "Lambskin disease" in Dr. W.'s catalogue, he should remember that the list is by no means complete, and that there will be no objection to the addition of one more. And why, indeed, may I not coin terms as well as others? All names must have been given by somebody.
But I will not dwell on the subject of nosology too long. I have something else to do in this chapter than merely to amuse. I have some thoughts to present on health and sickness,—thoughts, too, which seem to me of vast importance.
A son of Mr. G., a farmer, had been at work in an adjoining town, all summer, with a man who was accustomed to employ a great number of hands in various occupations,—farming, road building, butchering, etc., etc. Of a sudden, young G., now about twenty years of age, was brought home sick, and I was sent for late at night—a very common time for calling the doctor—to come and see him.
I found him exceedingly weak and sick, with strong tendencies to putridity. What could be the cause? There was no prevailing or epidemic disease abroad at the time, either where he had been laboring, or within my own jurisdiction; nor could I, at first, find out any cause which was adequate to the production of such effects as were before me.
I prescribed for the young man, as well as I could; but it was all to no purpose. Some unknown influence, local or general, seemed to hang like an incubus about him, and to depress, in particular, his nervous system. In short, the symptoms were such as portended swift destruction, if not immediate. I could but predict the worst. And the worst soon came. He sunk, in a few days, to an untimely grave. I say untimely with peculiar emphasis; for he had hitherto been regarded as particularly robust and healthy.
His remains were scarcely entombed when several members of his father's family were attacked in a similar way. Another young man in the neighborhood, who had been employed at the same place with the deceased, and who had returned at the same time, also sickened, and with nearly the same symptoms. And then, in a few days more, the father and mother of the latter began to droop, and to fall into the same train of diseased tendencies with the rest. Of these, too, I had the charge.
My hands were now fully occupied, and so was my head. Anxious as most young men are, in similar circumstances, not only to save their patients, but their reputation, and though the distance at which they resided was considerable, I visited both families twice a day, and usually remained with one of them during the night. I was afraid to trust them with others.
Physically this constant charge was too much for me, and ought not to have been attempted. No physician should watch with his patients, by night or by day,—above all by night—any more than a general should place himself in the front of his army, during the heat of battle. His life is too precious to be jeoparded beyond the necessities involved in his profession.
But while my hands were occupied, my mind was racked exceedingly with constant inquiry into the cause of this terrible disease,—for such to my apprehension it was becoming. The whole neighborhood was alarmed, and the paleness of death was upon almost every countenance.