The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1874-05-28
The Doctors First Patient.

yery proud and happy was Edward Airing
ton as he clasped his diploma, and prouder and
happier when on his return to his humble
lodgings he wrote out his name, and attached
to it the significant M. D. And we'll might
his heavt be glad. Not without struggle and
toll had he earned that right. Indeed, so far,
his life; had been one continued struggle, a
struggle not only to keep alive and rugged the
heart that beat in his bosom, but struggle
to endow that mind, which made so radiant,
with it's spirit flashes, his dark, eloquent eye,
with the knowledge for which 1t yearned so
anxiously and so earnestly.
Left an orphan at comparatively tenoer
age. with but one relative and ne worse than
none. for he would never befriend the poor,
lonely lad, life to him had opened darkly and
sadly. But the strength that is born OF agony
had been his, and with strength came hope,
and with hope, courage; and so, patiently and
cheerfully, he plodded on in his way, and, as
we have intimated, at length was rewarded
True, the battle was only half-won, for, though
q profession be much, it is far from being all.
To establish himself successfully, to build up a
reputation that should not only add glory to
his name but put money in his empty purse,
that was another uphill work. But his was
brave heart. -,
Fortune favors the brave" sometimes. 1t
did our hero The next morning, as ne sat
beside his little study table, buried in anxious
thought as to the most feasible means OF exert
ing his talents in the profession he had chosen,
q letter, sealed with black, was handed to him.
It was from the widow of the relative, whom,
in early life, he had petitioned to assist him.
Death sometimes has another mission than
merely to close the mortal eye, and hush the
voice of life. It lays its cold, white fingers on
the heart, and while it palsies the t1eshy part,
it gives new and beautiful life to the spirit that
has long been benumbed in its silent cham
bers.
And thus it did to Henry Arlington, the
great uncle of the young physician. On his
death bed, he revoked all former wills, and be-
queathed to his poor nephew goodly portion
of his property, sent him his blessing, and
prayer that he would return good for evil, and
become son to the widow, whom he should
leave lonely and sad. and tottering with age.
Ere week had elapsed, Edward had settled
all his affairs in the great city where he had
passed his youth, and bent his way toward the
little village where dwelt the only one to
whom he was bound by an earthly tie. He
reached it Just at sunset, and it opened to his
excited mind like dream of beauty to poet
It was indeed lovely little nook. Tall
mountains sheltered it-encircled 1t, we should
rather say-with strong, warm arms, not shut
ting out the sunlight and the sky, but only
warding off the cold, bleak winds, and opening
here and there, and everywhere, indeed, visions
and views which could not but charm the
pleasure e-seeking and wonder-hunting traveller.
In the little valley was heard the song of
MANY streamlet, the rich melody of many
bird, and the gleesome shout and ringing laugh
of lieht-hearted children. And, as the travel
or slowly walked his horse, he wondered not
that the brooks and birds and the little human
hearts sang so sweet a vesper. 1t seemed to
him that he, too, could sing if he had home
in so fair spot, and he almost coveted one out
of the so many snow white dwellings, that stood
along the road, arched over by such majestic
trees, and surrounded by such beauteous garden
patches and fertile fields. Fresh from the
city, the hot, sun struck, dusty, ba6blng city,
he could appreciate the charms OF summer
evening in the cool, shady, green, quiet village
street, as those only can who 60 from mans
work to Gods.
He met with warm welcome from his aged
aunt, and after few weeks sojourn with her,
resolved to say "yea" to her wishes, and settle
down in this same little village.
There was indeed as fair an opening as he
could expect in any place. Of the two physi-
clans who had been settled there, the eldest
had died few weeks before, and the other was
getting advanced in years. Both had made q
Comfortable property, and there seemed to cur
Young doctor no reason why he might not fol-
lev in the chaise tracks Of him who was gone,
and perhaps in those of him that was going,
and become, too, man OF some renown and
wealth.
The dear old aunt prophesied health, hapni-
ness and money; his wishes did the same, an d
so it was soon announced that old Henry Ar
lington's great nephew, the young physician,
had become resident of the place. A wing
of the aunt's house was fitted up as an office,
while upon the little white gate in front was
nailed gilded sign. A horse and chase were
purchased, medicine books and surgical instru-
ments were ordered, and everything was soon
in nice trim for an extensive practice. Nay,
not everything. There were no patients.
Young men, in every profession, have to en-
dure much, because they are young. The
world is afraid to trust them because they have
no experience, forgetting that the only way for
them to reach that experience is through prac-
tice. None suffers more from this preJudlce
against the youth than the physician. And
none, more than he, needs stout heart and
patient soul.
Edward had both these, and he had now
what too many medical students have not !; he
had the means to live quite comfortably with
out any professional fees. An ignoble fellow
would have sat down and been content; but
mind SO highly cultivated as his, could do no
such unworthy thing. The knowledge he had
acquired, through such weary means, was too
precious to be hidden he longed to do good
with it, to follow the footsteps of the great
physician, and "heal the sick"
Because practice had not come, he did not
yield to despair, and say it will never come /;
but he reused every energy and determined to
be ready for it when it should come. The flrst
ray of moonlight found him at his studies, and
the stars not unfrequently found him there.
Though practice did not come, acquaintance
and friendship did. True, the old doctor
passed him by as ,stihy as though an iron rod
instead of a flexible spine upheld his body !:
and the lawyer, who was brother-in-law to the
or .d mol