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It was not till after midnight that my visit for the evening came to an end. The next morning after breakfast I was visited by my lady’s secretary—the only European, except the doctor, whom she retained in her household. This secretary, like the doctor, was Italian, but he preserved more signs of European dress and European pretensions than his medical fellow-slave.
He lay in the trench, not daring to move for hours, the bitterest thoughts assailing him, anger, hatred and disgust for war, the Germans, his own countrymen; and he even cursed God. When he did this he shuddered at his blasphemy, became remorseful and prayed for forgiveness. A little later he crawled out of the trench and back to where he was picked up by the medical corps and taken to a hospital.
The burglar caught him by the right sleeve. "Come on," he said bluffly. "I ask you. Leave it alone. I've got the price. Ever try witch hazel and oil of wintergreen?" I never could quite understand how Tom Hopkins came to make that blunder, for he had been through a whole term at a medical college before he inherited his aunt's fortune and had been considered strong in therapeutics.
"Don't bite your lips, it does not stimulate thought, I can tell you that as a medical man, and I can also tell you that this is not the moment for you to consider plans for outwitting me. Get your coat and hat on." His voice was now peremptory, and she obeyed. In a few minutes she was dressed ready for the street. He led the way out and holding her arm lightly they passed out into the street.
It is safe to say that no book of the century exerted a profounder influence on medical thought than Virchow's exposition of the cellular pathology.
I always have nitrate of silver in my pocket, even now I am never without it; I washed myself, and applied the caustic with some severity to the wound; and my medical adviser and valued friend, Mr. Millington, punished me still more after I got home. My object was attained, although at somewhat too much cost, for the expression of that brute's countenance will never be forgotten.
He slept right along all through it, and we had another table with the false arms and legs on, and we rolled up our sleeves, and smoked pipes, Just like I read that medical students do when they cut up a man. Well, you'd a dide to see Pa look at us when he woke up. I saw him open his eyes, and then we began to talk about cutting up dead men.
His book on dissection was for the next three centuries in the hands of nearly every medical scholar in Europe who was trying to do good work in anatomy. It was not displaced until Vesalius came, the father of modern anatomy, who revolutionized the science in the Renaissance time.
Yes, I repeat it, we owe our medical and sanitary science to Bacon's philosophy; and Bacon owed his philosophy to his Christianity. Oh! it is easy for us, amid the marvels of our great hospitals, now grown commonplace in our eyes from very custom, to talk of the empire of mind over matter; for us who reap the harvest whereof Bacon sowed the seed.
As the silvery tones of the chamber clock tinkled forth the third quarter after ten, the door opened, and a small, dark, thin man, with large whiskers, keen, penetrating eyes, broad, bald forehead, thinly covered with gray hair, and apparently about fifty years of age, briskly entered. It was Dr. Orfila, a name somewhat known in medical science.
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