THE DISPENSARY

"Since by no arts I therefore can defeat
The happy enterprises of the great,
I'll calmly stoop to more inferior things,

And try if my loved snakes have teeth or stings."
She said; and straight shrill Colon's person took,
In morals loose, but most precise in look
Blackfriars annals lately pleased to call
Him, Warden of Apothecaries-hall.
And, when so dignified, did not forbear
That operation which the learn'd declare
Gives colics ease, and makes the ladies fair.
In trifling show his tinsel talent lies,
And form the want of intellects supplies.
In aspect grand and goodly he appears,
Revered as patriarchs in primeval years.
Hourly his learn'd impertinence affords
A barren superfluity of words;

The patient's ears remorseless he assails,
Murders with jargon where his medicine fails.

The Fury thus assuming Colon's grace,
So slung her arms, so shuffled in her pace.
Onward she hastens to the famed abodes,
Where Horoscope invokes the infernal gods;
And, reached the mansion where the vulgar run,
For ruin throng, and pay to be undone.

This visionary various projects tries,

And knows, that to be rich is to be wise.

By useful observations he can tell

The sacred charms that in true sterling dwell.

How gold makes a patrician of a slave,

A dwarf an Atlas, a Thersites brave.

It cancels all defects, and in their place

Finds sense in Brownlow, charms in Lady Grace:

It guides the fancy, and directs the mind;
No bankrupt ever found a fair one kind.

So truly Horoscope its virtues knows,
To this loved idol 'tis, alone, he bows;
And fancies such bright heraldry can prove
The vile plebeian but the third from Jove.

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Long has he been of that amphibious fry,
Bold to prescribe, and busy to apply.
His shop the gazing vulgar's eyes employs
With foreign trinkets, and domestic toys:
Here mummies lay, most reverendly stale,
And there, the tortoise hung her coat of mail;
Not far from some huge shark's devouring head
The flying-fish their finny pinions spread.
Aloft in rows large poppy heads were strung,
And near, a scaly alligator hung:

In this place, drugs in musty heaps decayed;
In that, dried bladders and drawn teeth were laid.
An inner room receives the numerous shoals
Of such as pay to be reputed fools.

Globes stand by globes, volumes on volumes lie,
And planetary schemes amuse the eye.

The sage, in velvet chair, here lolls at ease,
To promise future health for present fees.
Then, as from tripod, solemn shams reveals,
And what the stars know nothing of foretells.

-SAMUEL GARTH.

周

A Doctor's Motto

DOCTOR, who, for want of skill,

Did sometimes cure-and sometimes kill;
Contrived at length, by many a puff,

And many a bottle filled with stuff,

To raise his fortune, and his pride;
And in a coach, forsooth! must ride.
His family coat long since worn out,
What arms to take, was all the doubt.
A friend, consulted on the case,
Thus answered with a sly grimace:
"Take some device in your own way,

Neither too solemn nor too gay;

Three Ducks, suppose; white, gray, or black;

And let your motto be, Quack! quack!"'

RICHARD GRAVES.

In the early days of history

Which are so enshrined in mystery,

And the stories told about them are such hard ones to believe;

In the days of ancient Adam

When the only living madam

Was the young girl of that period, whose maiden name was Eve;

It is said this man and woman,

I suppose because 'twas human

Then as now, and ever will be, while the worlds the same remain,

Without service, without clergy,

Without silver or liturgy,

Walked together, talked together, dined together, and raised Cain.

If you'll pardon the digression,

And permit a plain expression

From a man who's looking backward after some six thousand years,

I will say, this act of sinning

Was, to my mind, the beginning

Of the trouble we poor mortals suffer in this vale of tears."

But I do not mind confessing

I consider it a blessing,

Notwithstanding it has brought us so much sorrow, so much pain,

For this singular relation

Made for us an occupation,

And the Doctor chases sickness as the sunshine does the rain.

So I look on the transaction

With complacent satisfaction

From the standpoint of a Doctor, or perhaps, an accoucheur, And I criticise them, never,

And I bless them both, forever;

In which radical expression I expect you to concur.

To return to Cain, the baby:

Eve was ill, and Adam, maybe

Badly frightened by the crying and contortions of the boy;
Took him in his arms, carassed him,
Patted, cooed, and fondly pressed him

To his bosom, full of kindness, empty of the

"infant's joy."

Vain were all attempts to quiet

This new youth in search of diet,

And his crying, and his sobbing, roused the mother from her rest:

Lovingly she reached and took him,

Instantly his cries forsook him,

And he nestled in her bosom, with his mouth upon her breast.

Adam, wondering at the stillness,

Fearful of some sudden illness

Mindful of his own transgression, and the curse his sin had brought,

Eagerly the babe inspected,

Listened, pondered, and reflected,

Opened wide his eyes with wonder, at the sight his vision caught.

Joy of joys! two flowing fountains

Issued from two snowy mountains,

"Succor! succor! and nepenthe," Adam shouted. "Let me sing

Hallelujah! and Eureka!

I have found it, no more seek a

Midst the garden for a diet fit for infant, fit for king."

MILK

CANTO II.

Of one thing I am certain, and that is, if Cain
Had been kept on this pabulum, simple and plain,
Had taken it fresh and without sterilizing,

With perfect digestion, no acid uprising,

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His brain had been clear and his mind strong and stable,
With never a thought in 't of killing poor Abel.
But as he grew older and cut his front teeth,

And his gums became sore from the pressure beneath,
And he fretted a little, and what was far worse,
Awakened at midnight and wanted to nurse,
His mother (of course her intentions were good)
Raised the devil in Cain, for she altered his food.
I believe from that moment his troubles began,
And he grew up a hard and disatisfied man;
His appetite changed, and 'tis said he would choke
At the cocoanut's milk or the cream of a joke,
And the sweet milk of kindness in him became sour,
And he never was happy again from that hour.
Eructations of passion, as well as of gas,
Were as common as " chumps" in a medical class,
And well you know how the curse upon Cain
Followed that on poor Eve, and must ever remain.

MORAL.

This original lactation,

Was the sign for all creation

That a food was there provided for the infant, well or ill: Milk, the healthiest of diet;

Milk, the most nutritious; try it,

Use it, prove it, recommend it; drink it-and I'm sure you

will.

—Dr. Joseph B. GRISWOLD.