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Show A CASE THAT MADE A NAME. "What was the most interesting case in your long experience, Doctor?" It was at a little entertainment given in honor of Doctor Tourniquet's retirement from practice - an event we younger aspirants felt inclined to celebrate with no small satisfaction - that the foregoing question was put to the guest of the evening. "I think," said the old gentleman, after a moment's reflection, and casting a fatherly look upon us through his gold-rimmed spectacles, "about the most interesting case I ever had was my first." "Would you mind relating it?" "Not at all. Whatever secret there once was about it, all reason for keeping it has long ceased. "It's now nearly fifty years," he continued, "since I presumed to settle down here and enter into competition with old Carver, whose dazzling gilt sign, emblazoned with his name and professional designation of Physician And Surgeon - Curmudgeon would have hit the mark more nearly - had thitherto enjoyed a monopoly of lighting fools the way to dusty death." "He never passed me without a scowl, and never spoke of me but with contempt. His evident purpose was to nip my pretensions in the bud. I should never have a case if he could help it." "I came very near getting one in spite of him before long. A poor wretch had cut his throat, just missing the carotid artery and severing a number of important veins." "A messenger dispatched for Old Carver, not finding him in, had left word for him to come immediately, and then, as a makeshift, hurried on for me. I accompanied him at once and found the wounded man so nearly prostrate from the loss of blood that but the faintest signs of life remained. A few drops of an invigorating cordial, which I forced him to swallow, partially revived him, and I was preparing to sew up and dress the wound, when Old Carver came bustling in and pushed me aside rudely. Of course, the case was his by right of being first summoned, and I could not oppose his taking charge of it. "Humph!" he grunted, clapping his fingers on the patient's pulse, which had somewhat risen from the effect of the cordial - "what have you been doing here?" "I gave him a restorative," I answered." "And threw him into a fever!" interrupted Old Carver, without waiting to hear further. "Then whipping out his lancet, he proceeded to deplete the sufferer of what little blood he had remaining." "I trust you're satisfied with your work!" he growled, as the man gave a gasp and sank back dead." "I was about to repel indignantly the insinuation that it was at my door the man's death lay; but the looks and mutterings of the crowd admonished me that my word would weigh but little against that of the venerable quack, and that if I were to get off with a whole skin, I had better go at once. "I lost no opportunity, whenever I could get a hearing, of relaying the true state of the case, and vindicating my conduct. The restorative, I insisted, had been absolutely necessary to stimulate the flagging vital current and demonstrated the stupid folly of bleeding a man already almost bled to death. But the listeners would only shake their heads and say, "Doc Carver was a powerful good jedge o' physic, and they llowed I couldn't do better'n larn a wrinkle or two from him." "My prospects, which had never risen much above zero, now sank considerably lower. I began to lose heart at last, and was seriously considering the advisableness of giving up the struggle, and leaving the headstrong population to Old Carver and their fate, when one night I received a hurried call to attend a gentleman who had just had his leg broken. "Mr. Soaturni Furneval, the individual referred to, was a respectable middle-aged bachelor, for some time back thought to be particularly attentive to Miss Bernice Potts, a maiden lady of fortune and nearly his own age. "In attempting to board a moving train, he had missed his footing and fallen so that one of his legs was run over and completely crushed almost to the knee. "They carried him home on a stretcher, and, as usual, in such cases, messengers ran for all the doctors in the place - that is to say, in the present instance, for Old Carver and myself. "We arrived simultaneously." "It's a compound comminuted fracture of the tibia and the fibula" said Old Carver, pushing forward to take possession by first getting his ugly paw on the injured limb, which he fumbled roughly through the clothing - "It's a case for immediate amputation." he added, opening his case of instruments. "I shall not require your services," spoke up Mr. Furneval, with considerable energy for one in his condition. "I prefer placing myself in the hands of Dr. (Doctor) Tourniquet." "Everyone looked astonished, and Old Carver's face grew blacker that a thundercloud. "Your blood be on your own head!" he croaked ominously, and bundling up his instruments he banged the door behind him." "I wish to be alone with the Doctor," said Mr. Furneval, when Old Carver had gone; if assistance be needed it can be called." "Everybody withdrew but the patient and myself; and there, alone and single-handed, I did everything the case required. "You don't mean to say you amputated the limb without assistance?" said a fidgety little M.D. (Medical Doctor), across the table. "No, you see Mr. F. (Furneval), as I have said, was keeping company with Miss Potts, and thinking he might be better able to walk than hobble into her affections, we decided against amputation, and proceeded accordingly. "Next morning I met Old Carver on the street. He was in the habit of passing me with a frown without speaking, but this time he stopped. "How is your patient?" he inquired, with a sneer. "Doing nicely," I replied. "Your first amputation, I suppose." "Nether the first nor last," I said, "I didn't amputate at all." "I suppose you know the leg's smashed to cinders." "I do." "And you haven't amputated?" "And don't intend to?" "No." "Better go by the undertaker's and order a coffin then!" "He's busy on one for your last victim, I believe," said I, hurrying along without further parlay. "For nearly a week my patient saw no one but myself and the servant who carried up his meals. After a few friends were admitted to cheer his confinement, which he bore with admirable patience. In six weeks, I removed the splint, and the next day Mr. Furneval was walking out as well as ever. My fame was in everybody's mouth. Even Old Carver could find nothing to say for he had everywhere cried that the terrible nature of the injury had denoted the patient's speedy death. My practice soon exceeded my most sanguine hopes; and Old Carver's whilom patrons flocked to me in such numbers that he shut up shop and retired in disgust." "Was the limb really as badly fractured as at first supposed?" inquired the fidgety little doctor opposite. "Quite - ground almost to powder, you might say." "And gave no sign of lameness afterwards?" "No more than before - there had previously been a small hitch in the leg, but I think there was less afterward." "Wonderful!" exclaimed the little doctor. "Not at all. You see and there lay the secret, the injured leg was of wood and I replaced it with a better one." - N.Y. Ledger. |