The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, 1854-12-01
] he Sick 8achsio + !.

HERE IAN, a doomed man cooked for
fever, in this gloomy room, up four flights
of stairs; nothing to look at but one table. !
two chairs, and cobweb: pulse racing like
q locomotive; head throbbing as il it were
hooped with iron; mouth parched as Ishma-
els IN the desert, not bell-rope within
reach, sun pouring in through those uncur-
tanned windows, hot enough to singe off nv
ashes, all my confidential letters lying loose
on the table, and couldn't get up to them il
you held one of Colts revoIvers to my head.
All my masculine friends (') are parading
l'roadway, suppose, peeping under the
pretty girls bonnets, or drinking sherry
cobblers." A sherry cobbler!" Bacchus!
what luxury! believe Satan suggested
the thought to me. -.
Hegho L suppose the doctor, whom they
sent for, will come, before long; some great,
pomPous Eculapius, with owl phiz, a gold
headed cane, an oracular voice, and callous.
heart and hands, who will FIRST manipulate
my wrist, and then take the latitude and
longitude of my tongue; then he will punch
me In the ribs and torment me with more
questions than there is in the Assemby's
Catechism /; then he'll bother me with wri-
ting materials, to scratch off hieroglvplIic
prescription ordering me five times as much
medicine as need, then shall have TO paw
for it, then ten to one the apoihecarv's bow
will put up poison by mistake. Cesar
how my head spins round Hippodrome ra-
chg is nothing to it.
Hist! there's the doctor. No, it is that
little unregenerate cub, my landlady's pet
boy, with bran new drum Gas I'm sinner)
upon which he is beating a crucifying tattoo.
If only had a bootjack to throw at him.
No; that wouldn't do; his mother wouldn't
make my cruel. I'll bribe him for six-
pense to keep the peace. The little embryo
Jew! he says he arouidnt doSi under a
quarter. Twitted by little pinnafore! 1,
Tom Halliday, six fee: in my stockings!
shall 90 frantic.
Doctor is comingw Well. let him,
come-rm as savage as if had just dined
of cold missionary. I'll 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 nv throb-
bing temples His magnetic touch thrills
every drop of blood in my veins; it is mar
vellous how soothing it is. feel as happy
as humming bird in lily-cup, drowsy with
honey-dew. Now, he's moved away. I
hear him writing a prescription. III just
take peep, and see what he looks like
Cesar Agrippa If it isn't Female Physi-
clan dainty as Peri-and 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 mischief sent
the 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, dinpled hand
on their foreheads, as she did on mine p
Now she's done writing. I'll shut nv ewes
and groan, and then, may be, she will pet
me some more-bless her little soul
She says Poor fellow!' as she holds nv
wrist, this pulse is too quick" In the
name of Cupid, what does she erpect. She
says, as she pats my forehead with her little
plump fingers, Sh--sh? Keep COOL" La
va and birthstone? does she take me for
an iceberg? -
o, Cupid of all your devices, this fem
inne doctoring for bachelor is the ne plus
ultra Of withcraft. If don't have a pro.
longed "run of fever" my name isn't Tom
Halliday. '...... ..... . .-,
She's gone-and I'm gone, too!
FANNY FERN.