While thus to his rage he gave vent
On the partner most innocent spent,
The husband uneasily lay

On his couch like a hound held at bay.
He groaned that he had not a chance
The insulter to strike with a lance;
The physician with wrath so inflamed
That his own ebullition was shamed.

Like a lion aroused by his foe
He assayed for the Doctor to go,
A unicorn's strength he received
As he sought to avenge the aggrieved.
He leaped from his bed to the floor
While the latter in fright sought the door,

But Calamus seized his coat-tail

And his biceps came down like a flail

Till at last cried "enough, hold, enough!"
The defeated and crest-fallen Bluff.

Of Galen-traditions galore

None truer than this were of yore;
It was said that the Doctor brought low,
To anger in time became slow,
While far spread the tidings about-
Though somewhat heroic no doubt-

He had found a new cure for the Gout.

-EDWARD OCTAVUS FLAGG.

THE

64

On a Quack

HIS quack to Charon would his penny pay: The grateful ferryman was heard to sayReturn, my friend! and live for ages more,

Or I must haul my useless boat ashore."

-WILLIAM WADD.

Surgery vs. Medicine

PRIORITY IN AGE AND DEVELOPMENT CLAIMED FOR THE PLAINTIFF.

Delivered at the banquet given at Delmonico's to the students and alumni of the New York Homœopathic Medical College, March 8, 1887, and also at the dinner given by the English physicians to the International Congress, June, 1881, at the Criterion, London.

AM a surgeon, and in making this assertion

'Tis my apology for doing what I can

To set aside that undeserved aspersion

That says, while MEDICINE is quite as old as man,

Holding within its vast consideration

All wisdom, learning, ethics, and decorum,
That surgery is claimed, as is a poor relation,
Being at best" the OPPROBRIUM MEDICORUM."

'Tis certainly a subject for humility,

And one 'tis hard FOR DOCTORS to endure,

That they must own their utter inability

In many cases to effect a cure;

And then, with shrugs and sighs, their patients urge on
To give themselves their only chance for life

By calling on the poor, forgotten surgeon,

Who cuts and CURES them with the dreaded knife.

But as for age, I'll prove 'tis all a libel,

(The statement 's bold, but I could make it bolder)

For on no less authority than the Bible

I'll prove that surgery is surely older

Than any form of med'cine whatsoever;

And having finished, will appeal to the majority,

And have the point adjusted here forever,

That "SURGERY IN AGE can claim priority."

'Tis true the snake aroused the curiosity,

And gave to Eve the apple fair and bright; She ate, and with a fatal generosity

Inveigled Adam to a luscious bite.

That from that time disease and suffering came,
DOCTORS were called upon to cure the evil;
The art of HEALING, then, with all its fame,

Was AT THE FIRST developed by the devil.

Med 'cine thus stands coeval with the sinning

Of mother Eve, fair creature, though quite human,

While noble surgery had ITS beginning

IN PARADISE BEFORE there was a woman.

The facts are patent, and we all agree

'Twas Satan laid on man the direful rod;

That DOCTORS are the DEVIL'S PROGENY,

While surgeons come DIRECTLY DOWN FROM GOD!

For thus we read (although the analgesia

Of Richardson was then entirely unknown)

Adam profoundly slept with anesthesia,

And from HIS THORAX WAS REMOVED A BONE,

THIS was the first recorded operation,

(No doctor here dare tell me that I fib!)

And surgery, thus early in creation,

CAN CLAIM COMPLETE EXCISION OF A RIB!

But this is nothing to the obligation

The world to surgery must ever own,

When woman, loveliest of the creation,

Grew and developed from THAT VERY BONE. Then lovesick swains began indicting sonnets, And Fashion talked with Folly by the way, Then came bulimia for becoming bonnetsHereditary epidemic of today.

Then, too, began those endless loves and frolics
That poets sing in soft and sweet refrains,

Doctors grew frantic o 'er infantile colics,

Announced at midnight with angelic strains,

From this the world was peopled. So Doctors own,
While you lay claim to such superiority.
That surgery in the development of bone

As well as age, can clearly claim priority.

My task is done, and with my best endeavor
I have essayed to vindicate my art;
So list my friends, ere friendly ties we sever,

While waning moments bring the hour to part, Whatever land, whatever clime may hold you,

Some time give honor to the bright scalpel, And when you recollect what I have told you, Remember me-'tis all I ask. Farewell.

-DR. WILLIAM TOD HELMUTH.

Kindness First Known in a Hospital

'HE place seemed new and strange as death.

THE

The white strait bed, with others strait and white,

Like graves dug side by side at measured lengths,

And quiet people walking in and out

With wonderful low voices and soft steps,

And apparitional equal care for each,

Astonished her with order, silence, law:

And when a gentle hand held out a cup,
She took it as you do at sacrament,

Half awed, half melted,—not being used, indeed,

To so much love as makes the form of love

And courtesy of manners. Delicate drinks
And rare white bread, to which some dying eyes

Were turned in observation. O my God,

How sick we must be ere we make men just!

I think it frets the saints in heaven to see

How many desolate creatures on the earth
Have learnt the simple dues of fellowship
And social comfort, in a hospital.

—Elizabeth Barrett BroWNING.

In the Hospital

I.

RIMED with misery, want, and sin,
From a drunken brawl they brought him in,

While tearless-eyed around his bed,

They whispered coldly: He is dead,

And looked askance as they went past,

And said: Best so. He has sinned his last.

But the Doctor came and declared: Not so.
A fragment of life yet lies aglow.

And day and night beside the bed,
He bent his skilful, earnest head;

By night, by day, with toil, with pain,
Coaxed back the worthless life again;

Coaxed back the life so nearly told,
And the man returned to his ways of old,-

Returned unchanged to his old, sad ways,
And sinned and sinned to the end of his days.

And the Doctor wrote in his private book:
Sin, Sorrow, Wrong, where'er I look.

I have saved a hideous life. And why?
That a man curse God again, and die.

II.

The mother smiled through her wretchedness,
For the new-born babe lay motionless.