Theodore, a laborious young man, came to me one day, saying, "I am afraid I have a cancer on one side of my nose, and I wish you would look at it." Accordingly I made a careful examination of the sore, taking care to give him a little pain, and, at the same time, as a most indispensable ingredient, to look "wondrous wise;" after which the following conversation, in its essentials, took place between us:—
"What makes you suspect this sore to be a cancer?"
"There are various reasons. Many of the neighbors think it to be so. Then, too, it has a very strong resemblance to the cancer on Mrs. Miller's lip. And then, again, it burns and itches and smarts, just as people say cancers always do."
"How long have you been troubled with it?"
"It is three months or more since I first observed it; but it has given me very little uneasiness or trouble till within a few weeks."
"What have you done for it?"
"It would take a long time to tell you of all I have done for it. Every thing I could hear of, far or near, has been applied; from plasters of clay and chalk, to plasters of vitriol and other poisonous things. But I have used most a plaster made of chalk and the white of an egg. I do not know that any thing I have done has benefited it."
"Perhaps you have not persevered in the use of any thing long enough. How long is it, pray, since you began to use the chalk and egg plaster?"
"Oh, it is three weeks, or more."