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Show Dr. Willey tells the following story: ' Sleepily, after a night off, a certain interne hastened to his hospital wardj f The first patient was a stout oar (' Irishman. ,: "How goes it?" ho inquired. "Faith, it'sh mo breathin,' doctor. I can't get mo breath at all, at all." j "Why, your pulse is normal. Let me examine the lung-action," replied the doctor, kneeling beside the cot, and f laying his head on the ample chest. "Now, let's hear you talk," he continued, con-tinued, closing his eyes and listening. "What'll Oi be sayin', doctor?" "Oh, say anything. Count one, two, ' three, and up," murmured the interne, drowsily." '& "Wan, two, three, four, five, Bix," began the patient. When the young doctor, with a start, opened his eyes, he was counting huskily, "Tin hundred hun-dred an' sixty-nine, tin hundred an' sivinty, tin hundred an' sivinty-wan." Christian Register. , |