| | 1 | Author: | Caruthers
William Alexander
1802-1846 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Kentuckian in New-York, Or, the Adventures of Three Southerns  | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “You will be surprised to learn that this letter
is written in bed, on a large old portfolio of yours,
while I am propped up with chairs and pillows behind;
all during the doctor's absence, and against
the urgent entreaties of the whole house. “The change in Virginia's deportment has been
to me a curious subject of study and reflection. I
dare not say that it has been entirely disinterested
study, but perhaps it was none the less close and
minute on that account. We are apt to investigate
those engines which operate upon ourselves
very philosophically. But before I go any farther,
permit me to correct an error into which I fear
I have led you, because I had honestly fallen into
it myself. I stated to you that my sickness had
cast out devils for me, and that I was altogether a
changed and reformed man. It is no such thing;
I feel the devil of mischief and fun in me even
now. It was nothing more than a natural depression
of animal spirits, consequent upon the low
state of my stomach and pulsations. The doctor
was my priest on the occasion. He subdued the
old Adam in me for a time, by the assistance of
his lancet and the whole vegetable and mineral
kingdom, worked up into shot and bullets vulgarly
called pills, by the aid of which these same doctors,
I believe, often do a deal of execution; at all
events this disciple fleeced me of a goodly quantity
of the flesh upon my ribs; none of his shot
happened to be mortal; but, nevertheless, I would
advise you to keep out of the reach of their magazines.
The muzzle of a pill-box is as terrible to
me now, as the mysterious dark hole in the end of
a forty-two-pounder; and a blister-plaster as awful
as an army with banners. As for cupping-glasses
and scarificators, they are neither more nor less
than instruments of torture, borrowed from the
Spanish inquisition. But above all, deliver me
from the point of a seton-needle! Did you ever
see a cruel boy string fish on a stick before they
were dead? He runs the stick through the gills,
tearing and torturing as it goes; so do these disciples
of Esculapius; they seize a piece of your
skin, no matter how scarce the article may be,—
no matter if your lips do not cover your teeth, and
the bones of your nose look white through the attenuated
sheath! Away goes this surgical bayonet
through a handful of it, armed with a piece of gum
elastic, which is left sticking there, the sensation on
the back of your neck being as if the ramrod of a
small swivel had been shot through it; and there
you must sit, or stand, or lie, with this huge thing
all the while poking your head forward, as if you
had a pillory on your back. “I have deferred the closing of this letter a day
longer than I intended when I penned the above.
The fact is, I was not so much in the humour for
writing as I expected. I was compelled to order
your horse and take my first ride, and you may be
sure that I did not restrain his mettle. What
would you argue from this? That I was successful?
or defeated? I should suppose neither, from
that circumstance alone, say you,—as you would
be apt to ride down your impetuosity in either
case. `They tell me hereabouts you're married. Well,
hurrah for old Kentuck, I say, and her sister Carolina.
I'm married, too! yes, and I believe everybody's
married, nearabouts, as far as I can learn.
It's twisted strange, ain't it, when a feller gets half
corned,[5]
[5]Western term for drunk.
everybody reels round; and when a feller
gets married, everybody else should get married
just at that particular time. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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