Life — May 17, 1883 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

232 THE MEDICINAL WAR. HIS row among the doctors is at once unusual and unfortunate. Doctors have hitherto been so peaceably disposed towards each other, so ready to yield to each other's opinions, and so eager to consult those whose creeds were different, that the present agitation is a complete surprise. If the new code goes DR. PODOPHYLLIN. DR, TAFFEE. into effect this will be the result. Doctor Podophyllin, the Allopath, who believes that a pound of calomel and two gallons of castor oil are only a mild starter, and that stewed podophyllin, ic acid soup and iodide of jum gravy are the only ar- ticles of food an invalid requires, will have to call in Doctor Taf- fee, the Homeeopath, in whose opinion the one-millionth of a grain of citrate of beef is almost too powerful a tonic to use. If by the mutual consultation of these two the patient doesn’t im- prove, and he isn't likely to, why, they will call in Doctor Chillem, the Hydropath, who will put the sick man in an ice pack, soak his head, and give him a gallon of diluted water every four minutes until relieved. After this, they will either summon the undertaker or Doctor Twistemup, the Electro- path, who will put the invalid through a series of ingenious contortions, and completely riddle him with thunderbolts and agony, with a view to shaming the disease into acknowledging that it cannot cause any pain worth menfioning. Next will be summoned in a great hurry, Doctor Mixer, the Eclectic, who will administer to the happy sufferer a course of complicated sprouts of all the schools of medicine together, and note the re- sult. . Finally will come Doctor Bunkum, who cures by laying on of hands. Doctor Bunkum will pray and sing and lay on hands, and stand on his head and DR. CHILLEM DR. TWISTEMUP, -LIFE- read a psalm, throw a back somersault and read two verses from St. Paul and bid the sick man arise. If the sick man doesn't or can’t, every one present will give him a pill, clap on a plaster, douse him or shock him out of his senses, and ¢hen the coroner will come. ‘This will be living in the true spirit of harmony and profession- al brotheroood, But what will become of the patient ? In the good old days of saddle- bags, hes and setons, consul- tations were never fashionable, and people lived to a more ad- vanced ‘age than they do now. Doctors were all of one school—and when they went to the patient's funeral they bore malice towards no one, unless the widow had inadvertently forgotten to pay the bill, which, of course, made trouble. Now all will be chaos. If the suf- ferer's constitution en- ables him to stand the strain of a joint treat- DR. MIXER. + ment, each pill-mixer will swear that it was his own particular prescription that did the business, and will, of course, expect double pay for the same. If the patient di will swear that it was the other that killed him, and then the police will have to get in some very fine and prompt work to prevent trouble. one way out of this. on, let but one doctor’ share it with the res the ordeal. BUNKUM. There is only If a joint consultation is insisted bill be allowed, and make him —that is, if the patient survives If he dies—hang a// the doctors. H. G.C. WHEN YOU MEET ME. HEN you meet me, lift your hat, There is courtesy in that, And the fair expression, tuo, Of respect that is my due. He who lamely taps the rim Of his hat—I answer him With a stare—of scorn, at that. When you meet me, lift your hat. When you meet me, lift your hat. How insipid, stale and flat Seems “Good Morning " from a man With a head like his rattan,— For I always apprehend Who thus greets a lady friend Is a “ stick ’—and bald, at that ! When you meet me, lift your hat. JWR, comicbooks.com