of　breaking　glass　and　landed　in　a　bed　of　white　flowers；　all　soft
  and　downy；　like　feathers。
  And　then　Doctor　Z　stood　up　and　combed　the　debris　out　of　his　whiskers
  and　remarked　that；　taking　it　by　and　large；　it　had　been　one　of　the
  pleasantest　little　outings　he　had　enjoyed　in　the　entire　course　of
  his　practice。　　He　said　that　as　a　patient　I　was　fair；　but　as　a
  balloon　I　was　immense。　　He　asked　me　whether　I　had　seen　anything
  of　his　umbrella　and　began　looking　round　for　it。　　I　tried　to　help
  him　look；　but　I　was　too　tired　to　exert　myself　much。　　I　told　him　I
  believed　I　would　take　a　little　nap。
  I　opened　a　dizzy　eye　part　way。　　So　this　was　heaventhis　white
  expanse　that　swung　and　swam　before　my　languid　gaze？　No；　it　could
  not　beit　did　not　smell　like　heaven。　　It　smelled　like　a　hospital。
  It　was　a　hospital。　　It　was　my　hospital。　　My　nurse　was　bending　over
  me　and　I　caught　a　faint　whiff　of　the　starch　in　the　front　of　her
  crisp　blue　blouse。　　She　was　two…headed　for　the　moment；　but　that
  was　a　mere　detail。　　She　settled　a　pillow　under　my　head　and　told　me
  to　lie　quiet。
  I　meant　to　lie　quiet；　I　did　not　have　to　be　told。　　I　wanted　to　lie
  quiet　and　hurt。　　I　was　hurty　from　head　to　toe　and　back　again；　and
  crosswise　and　cater…cornered。　　I　hurt　diagonally　and　lengthwise
  and　on　the　bias。　　I　had　a　taste　in　my　mouth　like　a　bird…and…animal
  store。　　And　empty！　　It　seemed　to　me　those　doctors　had　not　left
  anything　inside　of　me　except　the　acoustics。　　Well；　there　was　a
  mite　of　consolation　there。　　If　the　overhauling　had　been　as　thorough
  as　I　had　reason　to　believe　it　was　from　my　present　sensations；　I
  need　never　fear　catching　anything　again　so　long　as　I　lived；　except
  possibly　dandruff。
  I　waved　the　nurse　away。　　I　craved　solitude。　　I　desired　only　to
  lie　there　in　that　bed　and　hurtwhich　I　did。
  I　had　said　beforehand　I　meant　to　stay　in　St。　Germicide's　for　two
  or　three　days　only。　　It　is　when　I　look　back　on　that　resolution　I
  emit　the　hollow　laugh　elsewhere　referred　to。　　For　exactly　four
  weeks　I　was　flat　on　my　back。　　I　know　now　how　excessively　wearied
  a　man　can　get　of　his　own　back；　how　tired　of　it；　how　bored　with
  it！　And　after　that　another　two　weeks　elapsed　before　my　legs　became
  the　same　dependable　pair　of　legs　I　had　known　in　the　past。
  I　did　not　want　to　eat　at　first；　and　when　I　did　begin　to　want　to
  they　would　not　let　me。　　If　I　felt　sort　of　peckish　they　let　me　suck
  a　little　glass　thermometer；　but　there　is　not　much　nourishment
  really　in　thermometers。　　And　for　entertainment；　to　wile　the　dragging
  hours　away；　I　could　count　the　cracks　in　the　ceiling　and　read　my
  temperature　chart；　which　was　a　good　deal　like　Red　Ames'　batting
  average　for　the　past　seasonranging　from　ninety…nine　to　one　hundred
  and　four。
  Also；　through　daily　conversations　with　my　nurse　and　with　the
  surgeons　who　dropped　in　from　time　to　time　to　have　a　look　at　me；
  I　learned；　as　I　lay　there；　a　great　deal　about　the　medical　profession
  that　is；　a　great　deal　for　a　laymanand　what　I　learned　filled　me
  with　an　abiding　admiration　for　it；　both　as　a　science　and　as　a
  business。　　This　surely　is　one　profession　which　ever　keeps　its　face
  to　the　front。　　Burying　its　past　mistakes　and　forgetting　them　as
  speedily　as　possible；　it　pushes　straight　forward　into　fresh　fields
  and　fresh　patients；　always　hopeful　of　what　the　future　may　bring
  in　the　way　of　newly　discovered　and　highly　expensive　ailments。　　As
  we　look　backward　upon　the　centuries　we　are　astonished　by　its
  advancement。　　I　did　a　good　deal　of　looking　backwards　upon　the
  centuries　during　my　sojourn　at　St。　Germicide's。
  Take　the　Middle　Ages　nowthe　period　when　a　barber　and　a　surgeon
  were　one　and　the　same。　　If　a　man　made　a　failure　as　a　barber　he
  turned　his　talents　to　surgery。　　Surgeons　in　those　times　were　a
  husky　breed。　　I　judge　they　worked　by　the　day　instead　of　by　piecework；
  anyhow　the　records　show　they　were　very　fond　of　experiments　where
  somebody　else　furnished　the　raw　material。
  When　there　came　a　resounding　knock　at　the　tradesman's　entrance　of
  the　moated　grange；　the　lord　of　the　manor；　looking　over　the　portcullis
  and　seeing　a　lusty　wight　standing　down　below；　in　a　leather　apron；
  with　his　sleeves　rolled　up　and　a　kit　of　soldering　tools　under　his
  arm；　didn't　know　until　he　made　inquiry　whether　the　gentle　stranger
  had　come　to　mend　the　drain　or　remove　the　cook's　leg。
  A　little　later　along；　when　gunpowder　had　come　into　general　use　as
  a　humanizing　factor　of　civilization；　surgeons　treated　a　gunshot
  wound　by　pouring　boiling　lard　into　it；　which　I　would　say　was
  calculated　to　take　the　victim's　mind　off　his　wound　and　give　him
  something　else　to　think　aboutfor　the　time　being；　anyhow。　　I
  assume　the　notion　of　applying　a　mustard　plaster　outside　one's
  stomach　when　one　has　a　pain　inside　one's　stomach　is　based　on　the
  same　principle。
  However；　one　doesn't　have　to　go　clear　back　to　medieval　times　to
  note　the　radical　differences　in　the　plan　of　treating　human　ailments。
  A　great　many　persons　who　are　still　living　can　remember　when　the
  doctors　were　not　nearly　so　numerous　as　they　are　now。　　I；　for　one；
  would　be　the　last　to　reverse　the　sentence　and　say　that　because　the
  doctors　were　not　nearly　so　numerous　then　as　they　are　now；　those
  persons　are　still　living　so　numerously。
  In　the　spring　of　the　year；　when　the　sap　flowed　and　the　birds　mated；
  the　sturdy　farmer　felt　that　he　was　due　to　have　something　the　matter
  with　him；　too。　　So　he　would　ride　into　the　country…seat　and　get　an
  almanac。　　Doubtless　the　reader；　if　country　raised；　has　seen　copies
  of　this　popular　work。　　On　the　outside　cover；　which　was　dark　blue
  in　color；　there　was　a　picture　of　a　person　whose　stomach　was　sliced
  four　ways；　like　a　twenty…cent　pie；　and　then　folded　back　neatly；
  thus　exposing　his　entire　interior　arrangements　to　the　gaze　of　the
  casual　observer。　　However；　this　party；　judging　by　his　picture；　did
  not　appear　to　be　suffering。　　He　did　not　even　seem　to　fear　that　he
  might　catch　cold　from　standing　there　in　his　own　draught。　　He　was
  gazing　off　into　space　in　an　absent…minded　kind　of　way；　apparently
  not　aware　that　anything　was　wrong　with　him；　and　on　all　sides　he
  was　surrounded　by　interesting　exhibits；　such　as　a　crab；　and　a
  scorpion；　and　a　goat；　and　a　chap　with　a　bow　and　arrowand　one
  thing　and　another。
  Such　was　the　main　design　of　the　cover；　while　the　contents　were
  made　up　of　recognized　and　standard　varieties　in　the　line　of　jokes
  and　the　line　of　diseases　which　alternated；　with　first　a　favorite
  joke　and　then　a　favorite　disease。　　The　author　who　wrote　the
  descriptions　of　the　diseases　was　one　of　the　most　convincing　writers
  that　ever　lived　anywhere。　　As　a　realist　he　had　no　superiors　among
  those　using　our　language　as　a　vehicle　for　the　expression　of　thought。
  He　was　a　wonder。　　If　a　person　wasn't　particular　about　what　ailed
  him　he　could　read　any　page　at　random　and　have　one　specific　disease。
  Or　he　could　read　the　whole　book　through　and　have　them　all；　in
  their　most　advanced　stages。　　Then　the　only　thing　that　could　save
  him　was　a　large　dollar　bottle。
  Again；　in　attacks　of　the　breakbone　ague　or　malaria　it　was　customary
  to　call　in　a　local　practitioner；　generally　an　elderly　lady　of　the
  neighborhood　who　had　none　of　these　latter…day　prejudices　regarding
  the　use　of　tobacco　by　the　gentler　sex。　　One　whom　I　distantly　recall；
  among　childhood's　happy　memories；　carried　this　liberal…mindedness
  to　a　point　where　she　not　only　dipped　snuff　and　smoked　a　cob　pipe；
  but　sometimes　chewed　a　little　natural　leaf。　　This　lady；　on　being
  called　in；　would　brew　up　a　large　caldron　of　medicinal　roots　and
  barks　and　sprouts　and　things；　and　then　she　would　deluge　the　interior
  of　the　sufferer　with　a　large　gourdful　of　this　pleasing　mixture　at
  regular　intervals。　　It　was　efficacious；　too。　　The　inundated　person
  either　got　well　or　else　he　drowned　from　the　inside。　　Rocking　the
  patient　was　almost　as　dangerous　a　pastime　as　rocking　the　boat。
  This　also　helps　to　explain；　I　think；　why　so　many　of　our　forebears
  had　floating　kidneys。　　There　was　nothing　else　for　a　kidney　to　do。
  By　the　time　I　attained　to　long　trousers；　people　in　our　town　mainly
  had　outgrown　the　unlicensed　expert　and　were　depending　more　and
  more　upon　the　old…fashioned　family　doctorthe　one　with　the
  whisker…junglewho　drove　about　in　a　gig；　accompanied　by　a　haunting
  aroma　of　iodoform　and　carrying　his　calomel　with　him　in　bulk。
  He　probably　owned　a　secret　calomel　mine　of　his　own。　　He　must　have；
  otherwise　he　could　never　have　afforded　to　be　so　generous　with　it。
  He　also　had　other　medicines　with　him；　all　of　them　being　selected
  on　the　principle　that　unless　a　drug　tasted　like　the　very　dickens
  it　couldn't　possibly　do　you　any　good。　　At　all　hours　of　the　day　and
  night　he　was　to　be　seen　going　to　and　fro；　distributing　nuggets
  from　his　private　lode。　　He　went　to　bed　with　his　trousers　and　his
  hat　on；　I　think；　and　there　was　a　general　belief　that　his　old　mare
  slept　between　the　shafts　of　the　gig；　with　the　bridle　shoved　up　on
  her　forehead。
  It　has　been　only　a　few　years　since　the　oldtime　general　practitioner
  was　everywhere。　　Just　look　round　and　see　now　how　the　system　has
  changed！　If　your　liver　begins　to　misconduct　itself　the　first　thought
  of　the　modern　operator　is　to　cut　it　out　and　hide　it　some　place　where
  you　can't　find　it。　　The　oldtimer　would　have　bombarded　it　with