University of Virginia Library

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151

INDIA RUBBER PILLS.

In the manufacturing city of L—, there lives a
certain Dr. D—. Not that he has a legitimate title
to write M. D. behind his name; but all who know
him are conscious that he deserves something more
than plain Mister, and as he is a chemist and druggist
by profession, common consent has established the
"Doctor."

Were I to attempt to describe the doctor as he merits,
you would be compelled to issue an extra, but I cannot
resist the opportunity of giving him a "passing notice."
In the first place, he is a "universal genius." He
does every thing he undertakes better than any one else
can. Nothing comes amiss to him, from a pill to a
porcelain tooth—from a lotion to a landscape—from a
draught to a drawing. A— W—, Esq., has
among his collection of pictures a couple of landscapes
painted by the doctor, which would do credit to the
cabinet of any gentleman in the country. In short,

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Some years ago, about the time we began to discover
that India rubber could be put to other uses besides
making over-shoes and erasing pencil-marks, our doctor
prepared a compound of the article, which could be
applied to either leather or cloth, making it "as impervious
to water as a drunkard's throat." Accommodating
himself to the universal taste for humbug, he hung,
on the outside of his shop, large placards headed—

Underneath was a long description of the evils and ills
consequent upon getting wet feet; all of which were to
be avoided by using Dr. D—'s "celebrated compound."

The mixture was put up in small boxes, neatly labelled,
and much resembling many "patent medicines."

One "sloppy day" in March, a tall, lanky, factory
girl, just fresh from "Varmount," came splashing along
through the snow and water, coughing at every step as
though she were on her way to make a bargain with the
sexton. The placards caught her eye, and she read
one through with open-mouthed attention. When
finished, she stepped into the shop, and bought a box
of the mixture, being served by the doctor in person.

A few days after, the doctor was standing behind his
counter, outside of which were two or three of his
friends. In came the same girl, coughing, if possible,
more than before, and the following dialogue ensued.
I must here remark that our friend the doctor is rather
"gruff" in look, and oftentimes rough in manner and
speech, although a better-hearted being never breathed.

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153

"See here," said the girl, as well as she could for
coughing, "I warnt you to take back this stuff of yourn,
'taint good for nothin'."

"'Taint good for nothin'," replied the doctor, imitating
her, for he was touched on a tender point. "What
does the girl mean? Let me see the box."

The box was produced and opened, when there appeared
to have been a small portion scooped out, something
as it might have been done by one's thumb nail.

"Why," said the doctor, "how can you tell that
`the stuff aint good for nothin',' when you have not used
one quarter the proper quantity?"

"I took as much as I darst tu," answered the girl,
"and as much as the rest of the gals said would be
enuff."

"Took!" almost shouted the doctor—"Took! What
do you mean by taking? How did you take it?"

"Why, sir," said the girl, "I didn't know what to
do with it myself, so I asked the other gals, and they
said I must make it into pills. I took four when I went
tu bed, and the next mornin' I coughed worser than
ever."

"Humph!" growled the doctor, at the same time
handing the girl back her money. "Took it, did ye, in
the shape of pills? Well, if you aren't water-tight for
the balance of your life, I'm blowed!"

The poor girl sloped just in time to prevent the doctor's
friends from expiring.