Diagnosis : a story for amateur physicians, as well as for regular practitioners

Contents

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Cuaprer [.—The Graveses.

II.—The Watsons.

II. The Watsons

Thirty years before the time our story begins there came to a city of one of the Southern states, bordering the Gulf. of Mexico, a youth from somewhere in New England. His name was Hezekiah Watson and he was then about twenty-two years of age. He had received a common school education at home, and a commercial one in some large city of the middle states, having there spent several years as a clerk in’ a large banking establishment.

Watson did not home with the traditional equipment which is mentioned so approvingly in_ all stories told by New England biogcome to his new raphers of Eli Whitney, of cotton gin fame, or of other youths, his countrymen, who have tried their fortune and met with success in the Southern states. He depended not on a “jack-knife and natural shrewdness” for success in life, but trusted rather to a thorough knowledge of the business he intended to follow, together with a pleasing manner and sufficient self respect and courage to enable him to contend with the trials one must always meet with when coming into a strange community.

First a clerk, then, through steady attention to business and strict economy, recommending himself as a suitable person for junior partner, he finally became senior of the new firm—“R. Watson & Co.,” successors to “Silver, Wraggs & Silver,” “Exchange Brokers.”

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It is now we make his acquaintance. A hale and erect man of fifty-two years of age; well preserved and somewhat inclined to corpulency. He is still handsome, though much changed from the man of thirty years before. ‘Time and the cares of life had defined his features with sharper outlines, rendering the decided character of their possessor evident to the most careless observer.

At the age of twenty-eight. Mr. Watson had married the daughter of a gentlemen named Coulston, an old resident of Magnol—Watson’s adopted home—and whose ancestors had been among the early settlers of Maryland, whence some of them had emigrated southward at the close of the ‘“Revolutionary War.”

Mr. Percy Coulston, Watson’s father-in-law, was the sole remaining ‘offspring of a marriage between Rupert Coulston and Adele Alberte, descended from one of the old French families, who had settled in early times somewhere on the sea-board of Alabama, Mississippi or Louisiana. All the members of both families, save Mr. Coulston and his daughter, Mary, were cither now dead, or had moved away from Magnol. At the time of Mr. Watson’s marriage, Mr. Percy Coulston was in quite straitened circumstances, owing to his having entirely failed in business, and, with exceptional honesty, relinquished all his possessions to his creditors. Only the old family residence of the “Alberte’s,” situated several miles in the country, together with two or three old family servants, remained to him, and these he could not legally give up, as they were the inheritance of his daughter from the

TSONS. F maternal grandfather. This place afforded a comfortable home, while Mr. Coulston, in his old age, performed the humble duties of a clerk, in order to procure the means of subsistence for himself and daughter. While thus situated, Watson had formed the acquaintance of the courteous old clerk, who took quite a faney to the youth, although disliking the section of country from which he came. As _ the acquaintance grew older, Mr. Coulston could not resist his hospitable instincts; so once, and thereafter quite frequently, he took young Watson out to his home to spend from Saturday until Monday in its pure air and cooling shades. After a few of these visits, Watson began to discover that the full black eyes and. pleasant face of Miss Coulston were a source of both pleasure and discomfort to him.

Having studied to fit himself for mingling in the polite society of any part of his country, our exchange broker’s clerk was destitute of those provincialisms, both of speech and manner, which usually mark the New Englander, and which are so distasteful to his countrymen farther south. Therefore Miss Coulston was not continually reminded whenever they were together of the “Yankee” origin of her avowed admirer. Besides, Watson was thoroughly identified with her people, and

vas esteemed a suitable match for any young woman of her city. Finally it came about that Hezekiah Watson married Mary Coulston, and the pair lived decorously together, being in time well knit to each other by partaking of mutual griefs and joys. They had buried children, but there still remained to them a son, Wilbur, and a daughter, Loleta; the one a handsome, hightoned youth of eighteen, and the other a promising girl of fourteen summers. A maiden sister of Mr. Watson’s, ‘Aunt Eunice,” as the children called her, completed the family circle. Aunt Eunice differed greatly from her brother, both physically and mentally. She lacked his well balanced mind; was fanatical, self conceited, and credulous; and instead of being tall, blue eyed and florid, she was short, though stout, black eyed and of a swarthy complexion. Her speech abounded in New England singularities which greatly amused the children and the servants, as well as the friends and acquaintances of the family ,when she first came to live with Mr. Wat . actually had to abandon altogether the use of the word “chores” on account of the grin it would invariably bring to the countenances of the negro servants. With all ber peculiarities, however, she -was kind hearted, and finally came to be very well liked in the family; while the friends of the family, though they, smiled when they recalled her queer pronunciation and phrases, esteemed her, if not for her own sake, for the sake of her brother, who was now a man of note and influence in Magnol. The Watson family was at this time as happy a one as could be found in that country or any other; but, like many another happy home, a shadow, as a rising cloud slowly approaching the sun, was drawing nigh and threatened soon to envelop it in deepest gloom.

TEts MORE SHADE THAN SUNSHINE. At three o’clock on a beautiful October evening, crowds of the children

DIAGNOSIS.

of Magnol skipped, ran, tumbled or rode homeward from 8¢ shool ; those living at short distances were on foot, while those whose homes were in the comfortable and pretty country houses | of the suburbs were riding in various styles of one-horse vehicles, after quiet, venerable looking family horses. An ancient and apparently conceited old grey drew a species of car iole, with a motion quite perceptible, along one of the white, smooth, sandy roads peculiar to this country, for the most part an ev-- en country, and formerly covered with beautiful, though monotonous pine for- | ests.

“Oh Uncle Ned!” exclaimed Loleta Watson, with as much of a scowl upon her bright face as it was capable of showing, “do make old Grey go faster—_ we won't get home to-night!”

This was addressed to the old negro driver, as near counterpart to the well preserved horse as was possible.

“Hu!” grunted old Ned, “don’t you see I done tried, Miss Leta? Mas. Hez- *kiah tole me not to drive ‘ole Grey’ too fas,” then tucking his head down and chuckling, “I spec ‘ole Grey’ heard him, for I see his ole eye shine through de crack when Mas. Hez’kiah said dat.”

Loleta laughed at the old man’s conceit and said, “Do give him one more lick, Uncle Ned; maybe it will make him go a little faster.”

“No use Miss Leta,” replied Ned, “ole Grey’s hide thick—memory mighty short! Won’t hurt him any, and he forgit it in a minnit,”’ (with another chuckle).

Loleta finding driver and horse both incorrigible, restrained her impatience, while the cariole rolled slowly along and finally stopped at a residence. in-

MORE SHADE THAN SUNSHINE.

visible from the front, owing to the dense screen of evergreen trees and shrubs that intervened and quite surrounded the building.

This residence, thcugh of large size, was of but one story in height and was divided in the centre by a wide, open hall or passageway looking north and south, which afforded a most delightfully cool lounging place during the summer's heat. The house stood on brick pillars, rising four feet from the ground, and a wing was formed by a single room at the east and west ends, somewhat lower in roof than the main building. One of these rooms was Mr. Watson’s “sitting room,” a sort of library; the other was appropriated to the use of Aunt Eunice solely. All the windows, front and back, extended quite to the floor, and there were steps to numerous doorways on every aspect of the house; a well arranged one, the reader will see, with regard to ventilation, therefore to comfort, during the hot months of the year. Only by the eastern and western approaches to this place could it be discovered that it was occupied by a house at all, and then it could be discerned only by the gables and the tops of the tall, straight, white chimneys that stood at either end of the building.

Now—in this month of October— was the favorite season of song with that king of all feathered vocalists, the male mocking-bird, and “Old Alberte’s,”’ as this place was styled in the country around, was a favorite haunt of these birds. Here they were never allowed to be molested; in fact, throughout this region of country, they are protected by the old and spared by the young—even by the youthful sports-

= man, who scorns to waste his ammunition upon such game. On the top of one of the tall chimneys, a favorite perch, sat one of the finest specimens of the species; his drab colored breast glancing in the soft sunlight as he turned briskly this way and that, and occasionally fluttered a little way up into the air, then back again, as if falling, all the while pouring forth his varied notes of exquisite melody. Although the faded grass, the mellow, saddening sunshine and the moan of the evening breeze through the melancholy pines, cause a subduéd, almost sorrowful feeling, yet the cheerful notes of the gay songster seem in no way incongraous to the scene.

Loleta, having with Uncle Ned’s aid, collected her books, which were lying scattered over the seat of the vehicle, passed quickly along a broad, curving walk, made snowy white by a covering of shells, of a kind found in immense deposits (a geological puzzle) on the banks of many southern inlets and streams where they debouch into the Gulf of Mexico. Turning from the broad, semi-circular walk into a narrower one, she sought Aunt Eunice’s room, a pleasant and comfortably furnished apartment, forming in itself, as we have before mentioned, a wing to the main building. Coming without ceremony into the presence of her aunt, who was sitting and sewing, she exclaimed,

“Now A’nt, you must keep your promise! You know you said I might see mamma this evening!”

“T shouldn’t be troublesome if I were you,” answered Aunt Eunice in an even tone, without looking up. “You caunt see your mother this ofternoon.”’

10 DIAG NONSTS.

“Now A’nt, you promised!” said for it was nothing unusual; but pres= Loleta, then, with a mischevious ex ently a little wooly head was thrust pression of countenance, she added, into the door, and with starting “Well then, let Polly bring the new eyes, so wide open as to show a white baby here so I can see him!” line all around them, it exclaimed, Polly was Mrs. Watson’s maid. “Miss Eunus. mammy say look at Miss

“Holeta!”’ said Aunt Eunice, some- L’eta, ridin straddle on the pony with what sternly, as she looked up from ‘Bet’ ahind her!” Aunt Eunice arose her work, “You are becoming rude— hastily and with her work in her hands ‘new baby, where did you learn such an went to the back entrance of the main expression? You must git red of such.” building, where she saw Loleta mount-

“That's what Polly calls him,” said ed as the little negro had described—

] 7 , ‘ +) Loleta in defence. a negro girl of near ber own age and “You shouldn't talk as Polly does. size behind—on a little black pony, Don’t do-#’t any more.”’ which had been purchased for Wilbur

“T won't, A’nt,” replied Loleta; “but some years previously. The pony had why,” she continued, “won’t you let on no saddle, nothing but a bridle, and me see mamma and little brother?” Loleta was striving to make the plamp,

“Because Awnty caunt,’ said Aunt lazy little animal take a quicker pace Eunice, quite mildly—Mother and lit- by jerking at the reins, when Aunt tle brother neither are well this ofter- Eunice called to her to get down and noon; it would be wrong: for you to come to her instantly. The result of disturb them. You don’t want that I this exploit was that Loleta had to sit should let you do anything wrong, do-in Aunt Eunice’s room and take a lesyou?” son in sewing for the remainder of the

“No A’nt, I reckon 1 must wait,’ evening, behaving in a most exemsaid Loleta, who was impatient to see plary manner, in order to propitiate her mother because she dearly loved Aunt Eunice and prevail on her not to her, and the baby because of the wo- tell ‘Papa’ when he came home, man’s instinct within her. A moment Mrs. Watson, as has been already thereafter she was a child again, and intimated, was not doing so well as jerking her person around in a pettish, could be wished, this third day after spoiled manner, she said, with a slight her confinement. She had felt a slight whine, “I’m so hungry!” and went off, chilliness since mid-day, and she comwithout saying another word, in search plained that the weight of the light ofa servant to procure the desired bed covering, even, oppresed her. She luncheon. was feverish, had a gloomy feeling—

About half an hour afterwards, as foreboding of evil—and seemed anx- Aunt Eunice sat busily working a vine ious for the coming of her husband. of embroidery on some little garment Mr. Watson had not yet returned for her new born nephew, she heard from his business in the city, which he the screams and laughter of the negro did habitually after “banking hours;” children from the back yard. Thisdid when he -would dine and spend not particularly attract her attention, the remainder of the evening at home,

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in the society of his family. Aunt Eunice knew that he would be quite punctual to-day, for he liked to be at home as much as possible when Mrs. Watson was unwell, and always seemed uncomfortable and unhappy until she was restored to health again. Yet, Aunt Eunice did not await his coming to-day before sending a messenger for the family physician, Dr. Catling, asking him, as soon as possible, to visit Mrs. Watson.

Mary Coulston Watson was’ a great favorite with Dr. Catling. He had known her father, (dead fifteen years ago) who had been among the first to employ him in his early professional life. He was the family physician at Old Alberte’s by Mrs. Watson’s choice; had been with that lady through many periods of trial and had taken part with her in her grief, when death had visited her home. Dr. Catling attended to all calls promptly; but on this occasion he made haste. As he hastens towards Old Alberte’s we will be introduced to him. He is a tall, fairly proportioned man, as we could see if he were standing instead of sitting, with well developed and sharply defined The eyes are blue-grey and The forehead, features. deeply set in the head. if his hat was off we could see, is compact and ample; bat the head seems smaller than it really is, owing to the breadth of the shoulders upon which it rests. The face wears a cynical expression, usually, and in manner and speech the doctor is commonly brusque. He is honest, warm hearted and frank; ig a man of marked ability, and is a superior physician and surgeon.

Dr. Catling had left his patient doing well at half past nine o'clock in the

1!

morning; at four o'clock in the evening he found her with a fever, and with acute pain over that portion of the body known to anatomists as the abdominal region. He found other symptoms also that alarmed him; but neither by word, movement or expression of face did he indicate such feeling.

Aunt Hunice observed him closely and spoke to him hesitatingly. She had never been able to fully comprehend Dr. Catling—she was a little afraid of him; therefore was not particularly fond of meeting him in “consultation.” Dr. Catling, on the contrary, understood Aunt Eunice’s character perfectly; for the habit of close obserration, acquired by every careful physician enables him soon to correctly estimate any one with whom he comes in contact. He knew at the first meeting that Aunt Eunice was the physicians natural enemy; the doubter, meddler, the self-appointed inquisitor in the sick room. She had ventured once, and only once, to inquire into the composition of one of the doctor’s prescriptions; it is supposed with a view of deciding upon its propriety. “It is composed chiefly of ‘articulo mortis’ ” replied he gravely to her question on that occasion. She was puzzled by the answer; she could form no idea at first of his meaning, and she would not display her ignorance by asking an explanation. Then the thought occurred to her that Dr. Catling might be quietly ridiculing her. She was nettled at this idea, but did not then show her resentment; she remained quietly under this medical reign, like many another discontented subject, awaiting the removal of the yoke by fortuitous circumstances.

Before Aunt Eunice had come to live with her brother at Magnol, she had imbibed a new faith in medicine, and had in a great measure abandoned the practice, as she knew it, of the old school of physicians. She had heard a most eloquent sermon from her beloved pastor, Mr. Evermore, just before losing sight of her adored New England village steeple, on a system of medicine styled “Homeopathy.” The pastor had used on that memorable occasion, the following language: “When the old system shall have quite vanished from the earth and the new one (Homeopathy) shall be established, then, for the first time will the gospel of the kingdom of grace be preached as Jesus ordered it to be preached and received as God intended it to be received.’’* Since hearing this sermon, Aunt Eunice had pursued a mixed practice, the result of much experience in sick rooms under the “old regime” and of considerable reading and conversation on the Hahnemannic or Homeopathic method, now some fifty years old in Europe but comparatively newin America. She precribed not only for herself, but was very fond of giving others the benefit of her knowledge in gratuitous advice and diminutive globules; she particularly liked to medicate those who were already under the treatment of some regular physician, for some chronic ailment. Here, without incurring any responsibility, she could, as she supposed, prove the miraculous power of the thirtieth dilution by giving globules containing the one-decillionth of a

* See sermon preached in the church of St. Augustin, Cheapside, April 9th, 1851, by Rev. Thos. R. Everest. Quoted by Prof. Simpson, in ‘*Homeopathy, its tenets and tendencies.”

DIAGNOSIS.

grain of sugar of milk, or of common salt (chloride of sodium) or sand (silex), ‘“notentized” by the appropriate number of shakes,

“Guess you got a pretty sick patient, Doctor?’ said Aunt Eunice, as she and Dr. Catling reached the outside of the sick chamber—the doctor's” visit being over.

“Yes, right sick,” replied he.

“What be the matter with her, Doctor, anything like congestion?’ asked Aunt Eunice, looking wisely. She was showing the doctor that she too knew something of the science of medicine. —

But the question and the learning displayed by it did not seem to impress the doctor at all; he had _ probably heard and seen it all frequently before. His countenance wore a sober expression as he answered, evasively, and somewhat wearily, ‘The disease is not fully developed yet.” He was reserving his cofidence for some more discreet person.

“Do you think you can save her, Doctor?” again questioned Aunt Eunice.

The doctor’s face for an instant manifested some irritation when this unnecessary and highly improper question was asked, yet he controlled his impatience and answered quietly, “I hope she will soon Ane better.”

The two were standing in the main passageway during this conversation. Dr. Catiing made his bow to Aunt Eunice and was walking towards the front gate, where his buggy stood, when he met Mr. Watson, who had just reached home.

There was an anxious look in that gentleman’s face, for the same messenger that summoned Dr. Catling had

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gone by Mr. Watson’s place of business and left word that “Mis. Mary got wus since mornin.”

Having greeted the doctor kindly, he quickly inquired, “How’s Mary, Doctor?”

“She is very sick,” replied the doctor frankly; “but is somewhat more comfortable than she was awhile ago. Walk with me as far as the gate,” continued he, making a motion to go forward.

Mr. Watson, with a still more anxious look, obeyed. He felt that the doctor had something of a serious nature to impart.

He said, “Doctor, you about Mary?

“Yes, I am!” was the reply, “I’m afraid she has ‘Childbed Fever,’ and you know that is a very dangerous and unmanageable disease.”

“T do,” answered Mr. Watson, “one of my sisters died of it.” “Doctor,” he added, after a moment’s silence, with his face looking on the ground, “had you not better remain with us.”

“T would if I could be of any greater service by doing so; but I can do no more now; I will be back again after dark—to-night,” replied the doctor.

He then exchanged salutations with Mr Watson, got into his buggy and drove away.

Mr. Watson returned to the house and sought his wife’s room with a saddened and anxious mind, but with an assumed air of cheerfulness--concealing the effect of the counsel the doctor had shared with him—that none but a hopeful and sanative influence might effect his beloved wife’s mind.

Mrs. Watson was nursed tenderly by are uneasy the family, and tended carefully by her physician. Dr. Catling came and went frequently; he used all the skill a thoughtful, studious, experienced practitioner could command. Finally, the body was dying and the living soul

yas ready to take its flight. When the doctor declared his skill exhausted, after a fierce contest with the disease of three days duration, he said, “I have done all I can; she will live but a few hours longer.” Aud then took final leave of his patient.

It was now high time for Aunt Eunice to interfere; she had had no opportunity sooner. What she did, though, was from a good motive; and she interfered because it was her nature to do so. She respected Mrs. Watson, almost loved her, and wished her life to be saved if it were possible. She asked her sorrowing brother to let her send for Dr. Klinepille, a popular and prosperous Homeopathist of the city. Dr. . Klinepille was sent for; came and carefully examined the dying woman and made « prescription; but said, “I think there is small probability of her recovery. Had I been called sooner, I could have saved her.”

Various kinds of vehicles were arranging quictly in a line behind the solemn hearse that stood at the front gate of “Old Alberte’s.” In the opea hall or passage of the house stood a bier and upon it a highly finished burial case. Within the case, resting on a spotless white couch, lay the dead matron; her countenance beautiful in death as it had been when lighted by an amiable and loving soul. The pall was decked with flowers of purest white. Sorrowing friends sat silently around. The pale faced minister feelingly spoke of the uncertainty of life; of the virtues of the dead; gave words of sy mpathy to the ened and pointed to God for comfort and strength. An occasional,

half stifled sob came from where Wil-

bur strove to console poor Loleta. A movement was made to close the coffin;

when Wilbur, leading his sister by ate hand, came quickly forward and bending over, both kissed the calm, dead face. Mr. Watson looked on in silent agony. The body was borne off by the pall bearers; the mourners and friends followed mechanically and in silence.

The hearse with its burthen moved slowly ashort distance away. The rumble of wheels and the sharp snap of carriage doors, as they closed'on their occupants, were the most audible sounds. The cortege moved away and faded laggingly out of sight—then an oppressive silence and gloom was upon the “Old Alberte place,” that beautiful October afternoon.

A week passed, and Mr. Watson, the minister and the sexton, rode in a carriage, with a small, white coffin, to the cemetery and placed all that was mortal of the little babe by the side of its mother.

Here we take leave of the family until their grief has been softened by four years of time. —

IV. Office Pupilage

On a bright pleasant morning in the early part of a certain November an elderly gentleman stood upon the stone steps to’the front entrance of the chief hotel of Magnol. He was of medium height and inclined to stoutness. His countenance was a marked one; the

D IA GNOSIS.

which were the the aquiline nose with a hard, un- He was dress kkin¢ and striking features of broad, square and the gray eyes, flinching look in them. ed in a suit of reddish cloth of a

commonly called “Kentucky j an,” leisurely smoked a most excellent cigar, while he curiously surveyed the passing chin, crowd.

Next this person stood a young man, seemingly about twenty-one years of age, and of a most prepossessing an pearance. He was neatly clad in a suit of black, and wore, in accordance | with the style of the day, a lofty crowned, black silk hat. He, too, viewed the with interest.

It could be seen that he was not on his first visit to a city; yet it was equally plain that he was not familiar with the sights and sounds that now occupied his attention.

The elderly gentleman was Mr. Padelford Graves, on a business visit to Magnol; the other, his son Henry, who had come for the purpose of beginning his medical studies, under the guidance of Dr Catling.

“Well, this beats any place I ever saw for little men!” ‘remarked Mr. Graves, in half soliloquy, as he thumped the ashes from his cigar.

“Yes; and they all look so puny, and nice, like they were kept in bandboxes,” returned Henry.

“The result of too much city air, luxury and dissipation—wine, women and late hours make such men.” tinued Mr. Graves.

Henry saw that his father ing him warning advice, surroundings evident conwas giv= covert of his city

career; nevertheless, he made no reply, while his father added:

in ¢ manner, at the beginning

“If you could

OFFICE PUPILAGE. 15 see those men with their hats off you would find that they had hardly any hair on their heads; they are prematurely old. But tough, though, drat their little hides,’ he continued after a short pause—‘one of them can stand more hardship than half a dozen country boys put together—the Mexican war proved that.

Here Mr. Graves threw the stump of his cigar upon the sidewalk and seemed to be watching its fate amidst the numerous feet that passed to and fro over it.

*“A’n’t it almost time to go to Dr. Catling’s?” asked Henry breaking silence.

“Tet me see—half past eight,” said Mr. Graves, deliberately looking at his watch—a very heavy, plain gold one—“Yes, I think we will find him in his office by tho time we get there.”

Mr. Graves being weli acquainted with the geography of the city, his business for years past requiring an annual visit there, started off without a guide, accompanied by his son, for the purpose of visiting Dr. Catling in his office. He had spoken to the doctor ayear previously in relation to Henry’s becoming his pupil, and the doctor had consented to receive him. Said he to Mr. Graves, on that occasion; “If you are determined to make a doctor of your boy and want him to study with me, let him come along. I will do the best I can for him; but you know I have not much time to spend in teaching him; he must do his own studying; if he idles he cheats nobody but himself”? This was satisfactory to Mr. Graves, who had not the least idea of what was necessary to the proper instructing of a student in medicine. He seemed to think that it was necessary only for ILenry to stay in a physician's office (it must be in Dr. Catling’s office, though) and read, whether intelligentor not, for one year, in order to be fitted fcr attendance on medical lectures. He apparently expected that by mere contact with Dr. Catling his son would acquire an immensity of knowledge.

After due walking and turning of. corners, the two reached the doctor's office, which was situated in the basement of his roomy, but by no means artistically designed residence,

It was a severely plain house, no vestige of ornament appearing-at window, doorway or eave. This lack of architectural display was not, however, due to a want of cultivated taste in the owner; but rather to a lack of means for indulging such taste. Dr. Catling, although a popular physician, plying his vocation by day and by night, and earning many thousands of dollars yearly, yet found it next to impossible to secure enough from his always delinquent debtors to supply his needs from day to day. Consequently, when a mansion must be built by so unfortunate a man, the result must needs be; four naked walls, a roof, and a debt for the construction oppressing him for years; instead of one of those elegant and convenient structures, paid for in cash, which we see daily rising on every hand, for the occupancy of some vulgar and obscure trader—a vendor of cigars or patent medicines, or seller of miserable liquor bythe glassful, perhaps. Let the youth ambitious of following the respectable calling of a professional man, make a note and ponder here. Let him choose Money is better than respectability; it secures respectability and wisely.