W My First Patient HAT shall I say, when all my friends tonight How can I sing, when all around me here Speaks of naught else than Pittsburg's jovial cheer; What shall I do to raise my name to glory,— 'Tis not a story such as doctors tell Will seek the balmy air of distant plain. This story then, believe me, is a true one, I never having mentioned it to friend or foe. 'Twas when I, fresh from halls of learning, Believed myself a great receptacle of knowledge, As most young men, whose eager minds are burning With lore all medical, received at college. I thought that I could all diseases cure, Could dish out medicines for aches and ills, That no one need a single pang endure It was in Philadelphia, city fair, I lectured once and practiced physics there, Sowed my wild oats, from which, dear me, I'm reaping Disastrous fruits, more bitter for their keeping. 'Twas there a student in long days gone by, Those days of pleasant memory, when I Heard from dear Matthew's lips, the truths that fell Of our great system, which he knew so well, Who teach anatomy to students eager, List well to their instruction and e'en then To Gardner's 'twill be commonplace and meager. There gentle Loomis toiled from day to day, But Williamson and Hemple stand to view. But there were fellow-students also there Who now have grown in name and reputation, Have married ladies who are wonderous fair, And done right nobly," every man his share, " To medicate the nation. I have my eye on one, whom I could name, I see another, who on clinic-days would be But pshaw; I see the blushes on these doctors' faces, Well, as I said-excuse my being prosy, I'll hurry through this little bit of rhyme, The older gentlemen are growing dozy, And think I'm wasting very precious time. In that same city fair, of which I tell, "Cross as two sticks," and with a temper sour, She sent for me in haste to come and see, I tried to don a very learnéd look, Placed 'neath my arm a Symptom-Codex book, (A fashion which in many cities then Was followed by most scientific men, But which, adopted in New York would be It was a bitter cold December day, And as I tramped the hard and frozen ground, The winter wind with icicles at play, Strewed glittering fragments everywhere around. I reached the house in expectation rare, In soothing accents then the dame I asked, Will you allow me to inspect your tongue ? "' She blurted out, not liking to be tasked, "Arrah! me darlint, but you 'r moighty young--Oive got a misery in me side, och! dear, Its throubled me for over sixteen year; Cure me o' that, me darling honey, Ye'll get a dollar o' the best of money." I asked each symptom and observed each look, Wrote them "SECUNDUM ARTEM" in my book, Talked more about her rheums and aches and pains. Than Allen's Cyclopædia contains, And then requested as simple boon, That she would bring a tumbler and a spoon. There's not a lady or a doctor here Who does not know these philosophic facts, Now this old lady's crockery was kept I drew my tiny vial from its place, And counting, dropped-one, two, three, four, When suddenly, oh! most unlucky case, The tumbler split, and fell upon the floor. The Irish dame grew purple with her ire, And screamed, while shaking it before my face, 64 Out of me house ye murtherin' villain! Is it meself that ye 'd be killin'! Them pizen drops that burst yon glass in twain Och! 'tis a mercy that the stuff was spilt Afore I was blowed up and kilt." How, when, or where I made retreat, I do not now remember, I found myself far up the street, I felt just as I did one day, When my young love was jilted; But every rose will have its thorn, Our lives, we know, are all made up But gall and wormwood in the cup, And so, what then o 'erwhelmed me quite And gave my pride a fall, I here with smiles rehearse tonight A little joke-that's all. -DR. WILLIAM TOD HELMUTH. |