Life — September 10, 1896 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

> LIFE: MEDICAL ADVICE. £7 S Doctor Ransom at home?” asked I, as the portly butler stood facing me in the doorspace, ‘Ask him if I may bother him for a little while, Harris,” said I, with an easy familiarity that was not presumption from so accustomed a visitor, and I stepped in. “Yes, Mr. Oliver,” and he disappeared to be back_in a moment with: “HELLOA, Jack 1” ‘*The Doctor will be glad to see you in the library, sir.” I handed him my hat and cloak and went up. ‘*Helloa, Jack,” said the jolly old chap, as I went in; You haven't Polly and ‘‘what brings you here this time of night? forgotten the Jameson's dance, have you? herZmothcr left the house some time ago.” I didn’t tell him that I had sat in my hansom at the 189 corner for half an hour, till I had seen them drive away. “*T may drop in later,” was what I did say, and then, as I drew up the comfortable leather chair he had indicated somewhat nearer to his, I added, ‘‘what I want just now is a little advice.” ‘Bless my soul, advic said the Doctor, sitting up so suddenly, that the last number of the Lancet, which he had been cutting when I came in, nearly slipped into the grate. It was rescued, and he went on, “your leg isn’t bothering you again?" The “leg” was one of my nasty polo mishaps. ‘No, the leg is all right,” I answered; ‘ but I’ve got a little heart trouble.” ‘Nonsense. You're as sound as a steam pump,” said the old gentleman emphatically. “Well, I ought to know,” replied I, leaning forward and poking at the fire. “You've been smoking too much.” ** Haven't touched tobacco for six weeks.” ‘Tell me some of your symptoms,” said he, scrutiniz- ing me with a professional eye. . “Well,” said I, still jabbing at the coals, ‘‘ my appe- tite seems to be disappearing; I’m sort of losing my interest in everything; and whenever I'm with a certain person I have a tremendous palpitation here ;” and I put my hand as near the cardiac region as my rather limited knowledge of physiology would permit. The Doctor was looking at me with wide-eyed amazement. “Jack Oliver, you're crazy!" he said, when 1 Fad finished. “Maybe it’s the same thing,” said I. tove.” “Well, I'll be d—d!” said the Doctor, ‘rather blankly, leaning back in his chair. But in a moment he had regained his equanimity. ‘* Do you mean to say that you've worked me up to almost operating pitch, with nothing but a tale of lovesickness?"’ he said. “You seem to think it’s nothing serious,” I replied. ‘What if it is serious? You don't suppose that I kcep love draughts on tap, do you?” ‘*No,” said I, ‘* but I know you always have a pretty good brand of common-sense 'advice to dispense.” He seemed a bit tickled at this, and settled himself comfortably in his chair, smiling at me quizzically. “What's her name?” he asked. **Polly" almost pushed by my lips, but with an effort I jammed it back, and said instead: ‘*Oh, I can't tell you that yet; your advice must be entirely unpersonal and disinterested.” ‘‘ Well, in that case,” replied he, ‘'I'll have to impose a condition,” ** A condition?" said I, wondering. “Yes,” he answered, ‘‘and that is that you agree “T'm in comicbooks.com