Life — July 16, 1908 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

NOT A “NATURE FAKER™ ‘There's always one girl wi monotony killer, I mean, an outline on board, ‘The sort all the men say is * perfectly good"* And the women alll sniff “‘actorine!” He has a dull His people, you see, had bought Stand: Whea THE GROUCHY SWELL This beautiful person won't speak to a soul ‘cek on the water. fe shares sold at two for Two Cures OBSON came home with such an awful pain in his stomach that his usual compo- sure was consider- ably rufited. Indeed, he lost his presence of mind enough to send for his old friend, Doctor Prester. “Hello, old man,” said the doctor, “sorry to see you in this condition.” He felt of Dobson's pulse, meanwhile, and Dobson told him briefly how he felt. “I'm more ashamed of myself than any- thing else,” he said, “because I never permit myself to get under the weather.” “You have an attack of indigestion. I'll give you something that will fix you right up. It’s a sure thing.” While the doctor was writing out his pre- scription, Dobson, looking at him, said," By the way, you don’t look very well.”” Prester groaned. “T should say not,” he said. “I've got an awful pain myself. Got the same thing you have.” Dobson, full of interest, sat up in bed. “What are you doing for it?” he asked. “Nothing. Haven't time to doctor my- self. “Well, I'll tell you what. Let me suggest a sure thing. You give yourself mental treatment. Now don’t laugh just because you're a doctor. You know the value of it just as well as Ido. Lie down flat on your back, relax, and just w It will go. Just consider what effect, in ordi- nary matters, the mind has over the body. Prester smiled. “Thanks for your advice,” he said, po- litely. ‘Here's that prescription. If you want me in the morning, let me know.’” He made the round of his patients, until, tired and desperate with his pain, he arrived home and threw himself on his bed. “The worst of it is,” he groaned to him- self, “I know the futility of my own medi- cines. That's why they wouldn't dome any good. But Dobson, after all, is really a sen- sible chap. And in reality he is right about that mental treatment. It’s at the bottom of all therapeutics.” He reflected a moment. “Why not,” he said, vice?” Thereupon he flung himself on the bed, and began to arrange his mind as his friend suggested. try Dobson's ad- * e« 6 The next morning Dobson, preparing to go to business, heard his telephone bell ring. It was Dr. Prester. “Howare you this morning ?"’said Prester. “First rate. That stuff you gave me fixed me up. How are you? Splendid. I suppose it’s a confession to make, but we are old enough friends to un- derstand each other. I tried that mental treatment of yours, and it certainly put me right.” Dobson laughed. i “if you only had a little faith in it. That’s the main point, afterall. You see, Icouldn’t try iton myself, because—well, to be honest, while it used to work, I sort of lost confidence in it. By the way, old man, what was that great medicine you gave me?” Prester laughed in his turn. “Bread pills!” he shouted back. comicbooks.com