The Jeffersonian. [volume] (Stroudsburg, Pa.) 1853-1911, 1853-10-20
The Sick Bachelor.

AO DICA DuC
Here am, q doomed man-booked
for fever in this gloomy room, up four
fights of stairs; nothing to look at but
one table, two chairs, and a cobweb;
pulse racing like locomotive; head
throbbing as if it were hooped, with iron;
mouth as parched as Ishmaels in the
desert; not bell-rope within reach; sun
pouring in through those uncurtaincd
windows hot enough to SINCE off my eye
lashes; all my confidential letters lying
loose on the table, and couldn't get up
to them, if you held one Of Colts revolvers
to my head. All my masculine friendsO
are parading Broadway, | suppose peep
ing under the pretty girls bonnets, OK
drinking sherry cobblers,' \ sherry cob
bler Bacchus what a luxury. | be-
lieve Satan suggested the thought to me.
Heigho | suppose the Doctor (whom
they have sent for) will come before long;
some great pompous Esculapius, with
an owl phiz, gold headed cane, an ora
cular voice, and callous heart and hands
who will first manipulate my wrist, and
then take the latitude and longitude of
my tongue; then punch me in the ribs,
and torment me with more questions
than there are in the Assembly's Cate
chism; then bother me for writing ma
terials to scratch off a hieroglyphic
humbus prescription, ordering five times
as much medicine as | need; after which
| shall have to pay for it; and then ten to
one the apothecary's boy will put up
poison by mistake. Caesar how my head
spins round; Hippodromc racing is moth
ing to it.
Hist. there's the doctor. No. its that
little unregenerated cub, my landladys
pet boy, with a bran new drum (as I'm 4
sinnor,) upon which he is beating cruel
fying tattoo If [ only had boot jack
TO throw at him. No that won't do; his
mother wouldn't make my cruel. I'll
brbo him with sixpence to keep the
peace. The little embryo Jew he says
he wont do it under quarter !-Twitted
By little pianofore |, Tom Halliday,
six feet in my stockings shall go fran
tic. Doctor is coming" Well, let him
come. I'm as savage as if ID Just dined
off a cold missionary. III pretend to be
asleep, and let old Pill-box experiment.
How gently he treads, how soft his
hand is; how cool and delicious his touch,
How tenderly he parts my hair over my
throbbing temples! His magnetic touch
thrills every drop of blood in my veins;
it is marvellous how sothing it IS. | feel
as happy as 4 humming bird in lilly
cup, drowsy with honey-dew. Now he's
moved away. hear him writing a pre-
scription. III just take peep and see
what he looks likei Caesar AgcripinaI
if it isn't Ifma2c Rt5@jcjaH ! dainty as
Peri-apd my beard three days old -
What bust - (Wonder how my hair
looks , What foot and ankle What
shoulders; what little round waist -
Fever? I've got twenty fevers, and the
heart complaint besides. What the mis-
chief sent that little witch here? She
will either kill or cure me pretty quick.
Wonder if she has any more masculine
patients. Wonder if they are handsome?
Wonder if she lays that little dimpled
hand on their foreheads, as she did on
mine? Now she has done writing, I'll
shut my eyes and groan, and then, may
be, she will pet me some more; bless her
little soul!
Poor fellow?' she says, as she holds
my wrist, 'his pulse is too quick In the
name of Cupid what does she expect -
She lays as she pats my forehead with
her plump fingers. 'Sh-'sh! Keep COOL
Lava and birthstone! does she take me
for an iceberg?
Oh, Cupid? of all your devices, this
feminine doctoring for a bachelor; is the
ne Plus ultra of witchcraft. If | don't
have a prolonged run of fever, my name
isn't Tom Halliday?
She's gone? And-I'm gone too'