Old Gaffer von Gunther

HERE hangs in my office, just back of the door.
A picture by Solomon, painted of yore,

In the days long departed, a time and age when,
The doctor was counted the greatest of men.
Old Gaffer von Gunther (I guess that's his name,
Though history nowhere refers to his fame)
Sits propped up in pillows adjusted with care,
In the arms of an ancient baronial chair;
His feet cased in slippers, his face in a frown,
His head in a bandage, his legs in a gown,
His skull like a foot ball, denuded of hair,
While his face is the picture of woe and despair.
On his left sits the doctor as pompous and great
As a cardinal burdened with secrets of state,
And bursting with impulse to let them all out,
And see his King tremble and hear the mob shout,
While patient and doctor look grave as the grave,
One craving salvation, one power to save.
This pompous old doctor with powdered peruke
And ruffs like a Duchess and rings like a Duke,
With velvet knee breeches and long silken hose,
And silver shoe buckles and red shining nose,
Sits there with his finger on von Gunther's wrist,
And looks at his time-piece like one keeping tryst.
His face is a study for painters, I ween—
A slight hint of jesting, a quizzical mien-
A shadow of dolor, a quick glance of mirth,
A solemn demeanor, like men wear at birth,
His eye fixed on-nothing hung up in the air,
Like one who is dreaming nor foul dreams nor fair.
His staff half reclining leans back on his chair,
His cocked hat close by him, one foot in the air
And hanging just over a well-rounded knee,

Where trunk-hose and stockings are met and agree
Across from the doctor, near old Gaffer's chair,

A medical student well-favored and fair

Is counting his pulse-beats and wondering why

A man with such pulses should think he might die.

And close by the student, with exquisite grace,

A coy little maiden, with smiles on her face,

A cap on her ringlets, a bodice of blue,

A kirtle to match and a dream of a shoe,
Is brewing a tankard of something so rare
That the pompous old Doctor and student so fair
Wear glorified faces, like monks when they pray,
And sniff at the fragrance well knowing that they
Will sample the nectar and do it in haste
Before poor old Gaffer comes in for a taste-
For doctor and student have never been seen
To take the last pull from a jug or canteen,
But times out of record at dinner or lunch
They lead the whole rabble from roast beef to punch.
While Gaffer von Gunther, with woe-begone look,

Stares up at the student and glares at the cook,
The tankard of toddy, o'erflowing its brink,

Is passed to the doctor, who takes a big drink,
Then says, very coolly,

the stuff is too hot

For a man with a stomach like Gunther has got."

And orders the student to ladle it out

From tankard to beaker, from nozzle to spout,

Till, coming at last into Gaffer's own cup,

The student and lady may both take a sup;

Then the doctor cries out, with a smile and a wink,

"Ah, Gaffer, that 's good! Now, brace up and drink!''

And then I can fancy they chatter and laugh,
And praise up the toddy which all of them quaff,
While doctor and student go off with an air
Of knowledge abundant, enough and to spare:"
And old Doctor Pompous is heard to declare,
"The man has LE MALADIE IMAGINAIRE!"

-DR. HENRY W. ROBY

Doctor Brighton

"One of the best physicians our city ever knew is kind, cheerful, merry, Doctor Brighton."-The Newcomes.

SCENE. KING'S ROAD, BRIGHTON.

THE COLONEL. BERYL (HIS NIECE).

F

THE COLONEL.

HOUGH long it is since Titmarsh wrote;

His good advice we still remember,
When bad catarrh and rugged throat

Are rife in town in grey November!

So, if your temper 's short or bad,

Or of engagements you are full, man;
Or if you 're feeling bored or sad,

Make haste and get aboard the Pullman!

And throw all physic to the dogs

If life's sad burden you would lighten

Run quick away from London fogs
And call in cheerful Doctor Brighton!

BERYL.

Good Doctor Brighton, a mighty magician is,
See him at once, howe'er bad you may be!
Take his advice-there no better physician is-
Naught is his physic but Sunshine and Sea!
Come down at once then! Leave London in hazy

time,

Leave it enshrouded in yellow and brown!
Come here and revel in exquisite lazy time,

Flee from the turmoil and taint of the town!
Blue is the sky and the sunshine is glorious,
Charged is the air with delicious ozone:
Gay is the cliff and most gentle is Boreas,

Come down at once and recover your "tone!"'