A Model Teacher And Ideal Student

: Doctor Jones' Picnic

The days and weeks flew swiftly by. The fame of the great air-ship

spread far and wide, and thousands of visitors came to inspect it and

the wonderful voyagers. But what especially drew the people, and was

talked of more than all else, was the marvelous skill of Dr. Jones as a

healer. The beautiful Feodora improved from day to day, so that she

daily drove with her devoted and constant companions, Mrs. Jones and

Mattie.
She began to eat heartily, gained flesh rapidly, and her cough

had nearly left her. Roses of health assumed the place of hectic flush,

and she was the talk and wonder of everyone who knew of her former

hopeless condition.



Many were the consultations held by Dr. Jones, with the grateful and

goodnatured Count for interpreter. Money and honors poured in upon him,

though he never made any sort of charge for advice or medicine. The

better class of patients invariably left upon the table one or more

pieces of gold.



"Maggie, do you know that I have no idea of what to do with all this

money? If it keeps on this way, I shall be obliged to found a college

and hospital when we get back to Washington. Wouldn't it be grand if I

could break down the prejudices and legal barriers in this great

country, and establish our school upon an even footing with the old

school?"



"The Count must have influence at court. I should think that he might be

of great help to you," suggested Mrs. Jones.



"That is a good thought, and I will have a talk with him upon the

subject at the first opportunity."



The Count, meantime, was closely watching the Doctor's methods and the

results. He was delighted to note that many chronic cases recovered

under the treatment; and acute diseases yielded as if by magic to his

all-powerful infinitesimal doses.



"This is something utterly incomprehensible," he said to the Doctor one

evening, as the friends sat with him in his office, smoking and talking.

"Your medicines are working wonders, and yet I cannot understand how it

is possible for so minute a particle as is contained in one of your

doses to act so potently and profoundly upon a great mass of blood,

flesh, and bones, like the human body. That it does so is beyond

question. I have watched you carefully, and am thoroughly converted to

your system."



"Wouldn't it be a glorious thing for Russia if this system of medicine

could have at least an opportunity of being heard, and of exemplifying

the fact that it is founded upon science, and that beside it there is no

other?" cried Dr. Jones.



"Suppose you had an opportunity, by what method would you prove this

system to be what you claim for it?" asked Professor Gray.



"By the only method that can satisfy the human mind--practical

experience and demonstration. Nothing else will do. Theory is all well

enough, but if it cannot stand the test of experiment it is of no sort

of use. There is not a crowned head nor potentate in Europe before whom

I would not gladly and fearlessly put my system to such test. Give me

but a clear cut case--one that has not been spoiled by massive dosage or

surgery, and I am willing that the system shall stand or fall by the

result."



"That is perfectly fair, and I know, Doctor, that you would succeed,"

said the Count. "And I will say, further, that I am at your service to

promulgate your system in Russia. I have influence at court, and I can

put it to no better use than to help you present the system of medicine

which you represent to those in a position to open our door to your

school."



"If you will do that, sir, I shall never regret our having been blown

out of our course into Russia. If I can thus be instrumental in the

salvation of countless thousands of God's suffering children, I shall

feel that I have not lived in vain, whether I ever reach the North Pole

or not. Do not think, Professor, that I have in any degree lost

interest in our original enterprise. But, meantime, I must do what I

can for humanity when opportunity occurs."



"You are doing that, Doctor, and I heartily sympathize with you in your

labors," answered the Professor. "I only insist that, when permitted by

the fair Feodora, we sail immediately for our destination."



"That we will, Professor, and I promise not to enter into any

arrangements that shall prevent our going as soon as possible," replied

Dr. Jones.



"Excuse me, gentlemen," interrupted the Count, "but I wish to ask the

Doctor for information. As you know, I have had a considerable amount of

experience with the regular school of medicine, and you also know that I

was thoroughly disgusted with it when you came so opportunely. I have

carefully observed your methods, Dr. Jones, and I notice this essential

difference between the two schools: The old school physicians are

exceedingly particular in their examinations and explorations. They seem

extremely worried about naming the disease and knowing the exact

condition of the diseased tissues, but they do not appear to be able to

manage the practical part of the business--cure. You, as a

representative of the other system, do not lay so much stress upon these

things, but do take cognizance of the symptoms in each case with

surprising particularity. And I notice that you appear to base your

prescription solely upon what you term the 'totality of symptoms.' How

nearly am I right?"



"Count, you have apprehended the exact condition of things. It is well

enough to know all we can of the state of the organ or organs that we

are treating; but suppose I spend hours examining a patient with all the

appliances known to medicine, and have determined to a certainty the

name of the disease with which my patient is afflicted, I am now no

nearer knowing the remedy indicated in this case than I was before I

made the examination. I must go back and take all the symptoms into

account, both subjective and objective before I can intelligently

prescribe."



"I do not see, then, that it makes any difference whether you know all

about the condition of the organs, or can name the disease or not," said

Will.



"Good boy, Will," smiled the Doctor. "You're learning fast. It is an

absolute fact that some of the best shots I ever made were where

neither I, nor any living man, could make what we term the

diagnosis--that is, name the disease. I will give you a case in point: A

good many years ago, when I was quite a young physician, there came into

my office a man who desired me to go with him and see a sick babe. I

found the most miserable looking three months' old child I had ever

seen. Nothing could exceed the emaciation and puniness of the little

creature, and the mother was carrying it about upon a pillow. For six

weeks it had cried night and day, almost incessantly, except when under

the influence of opiates. Five old school doctors had done what they

could, and at last had declared that it could not live. They had not

been able to establish the diagnosis, and so were at sea as to

treatment. I sat beside it and studied the case as closely as possible

for more than an hour. There was but one peculiarity or symptom upon

which to base a prescription. It was this: It would lie a few moments

apparently asleep, then it would give a start and begin to scream with

all its puny power. This would last one or two minutes, when it would as

suddenly fall asleep again. This, they assured me, was the way it had

performed all through its illness, except when opiated. 'Pains come and

go suddenly.' That was all I had to go on. I could not locate the pains,

nor by any possible means know what the cause of them was; but I did

know, thank God, what was of infinitely greater importance: I knew the

drug that had that particular symptom, and that was Belladonna. Into

half a tumblerful of water I dropped five or six drops of the two

hundredth dilution of that drug, and put a few drops of this medicated

water into the poor little thing's mouth."



Here the Doctor stopped, knocked the ashes from his pipe, arose and

started as if to leave the room.



"Hold on, Doctor," cried Fred; "I am very much interested in that baby.

How did it come out on your Belladonna solution?"



"O yes! I should have said that it immediately went to sleep, and did

not awaken for several hours. It never cried again, received no more

medicine, and in a few weeks would have made a model picture for a

patent baby food company. It only received the one little dose that I

gave it."



"I declare," said the Count, laughing heartily, "that it sounds absurd

beyond anything I ever heard in my life. Yet who has greater reason to

know it to be absolutely true than myself. Go on, Doctor; I am prepared

to believe anything you are pleased to tell us of your miraculous

system."



"Before I go I think I will spin you one more story," said the Doctor,

reseating himself. "This is what might be termed the reductio ad

absurdum of prescribing merely for the disease by name, irrespective of

symptomatology. I was called to see a poor Dutchman who was in the last

stage of pulmonary consumption. He had just been brought home from a

certain city, where he had been in a hospital for two or three months.



"Well, Hans," I said, "how did they use you at the hospital; they are

very scientific there, you know, and must have done great things for

you.'"



"O Doctor!" he groaned, "dondt speak aboudt dem fellers. Dey vos de

piggest lot of shackasses I efer saw."



"Why, Hans, I am surprised at you! What did they do that did not please

you?"



"Vell, I tells you. Ven I goes into dot hoshpital, dey oxamines mine

lungs. Den dey puts me into a pedt mit a pig card hanging ofer mine

hedt, und dere vos on dot card in pig letters, de vird, CONSUMPTION. I

tink dey puts dot card dere to encourage me ven I looks at him. Und in a

leedle pox py mine hedt, dey puts a pottle of medticine und say to me,

'You dakes a teaspoonful of dot efery dree hours.' So I do dot. It vos

awful stuff but I sticks to him aboudt dree veeks. Den I can no more

dake it. It makes me so seek to mine stummick dot I gan no more eat

anyting. So I say to de steward von morning, 'I gan no more dake dot

medticine. I must haf some oder kind.' Vell, sir, you should haf seen

dot feller look at me. He lifts up his hands und says, 'I shoost adtmire

you, Hans.' 'What for you adtmire me?' 'Pecause you vos de piggest

kicker dot efer comes into dis hoshpital. Now look at yourself. You vos

oxamined und put into de ped to which you pelong. Dere ish de card

hanging ofer your hedt vot tells vot vos der matter mit you. Und den

dere ish der medticine for consumption in de pottle py your hedt. Dot

medticine is Doctor Smith's favorite prescription for dot disease. Und

mit all dot you kicks. Vot more do you want?' 'Vell,' I say, 'I gan no

more dake dot medticine. It makes me awful seek.' 'Now, Hans, dondt be

so unreasonable. You pelongs to dot ped, und whoefer goes into dot ped

dakes dot medticine. Dondt you see?' 'But I dells you dot I gan no more

dake dot medticine. It vill kill me. If no oder medticine goes mit this

ped, put me in some oder ped dot has a tifferent pottle, I cares not

what it is.' But no, sir! dey keeps me in dot ped. So I spidts Doctor

Smith's tam stuff into de slop bowl, und comes home so quick as I gan."



"I could hardly credit Hans' story, and told it as a joke to an old

school physician who was familiar with the hospital where Hans had been.

To my surprise he did not seem to see any joke in it. 'Can it be

possible,' said I, 'that Hans told the truth?' 'Well,' said he, 'in all

but one particular I think that he did.' 'And what was that particular?'

I asked. 'The card above his head did not have on it, 'Consumption,' but

'Phthisis Pulmonalis.'"



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