Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1875-10-02
The Family Physician.


He is but man; he pursues a sci
ence founded on shifting sands; his
work is largely experimental, and in
many places he gropes in a more than
twilight gloom But to our ignorant
helplessness his limited knowledge
seems to be the clear sight Of a god.
his slightest averment thing to treas
ure up and consider carefully for its
store of truth, his decision an affair as
immutable as the laws of the universe.
II we die, we cling to his hand as we
step into the dark river, while he is
like the comforting rod and staff of the
Scripture; if we live, we feel as though
it were through his determination and
because of his effort.
Not that we ignore, by any means,
the great and mercifui Power behind
him; but we recognize him as the agent
of that Power, who has put into his
hands, as it were the issues of birth
and the grave.
The doctor, indeed, seems to us I'M
like all other men. He is impersonal
as a spirit. We send for him in our
troubles; we 60 to him with our griev-
ances: we confess to him the ailments
we would hide from all the world; we
no more try to put the best foot for
ward " with him than we would if he
We're Omniscient, for we are aware that
unless he sees US as We are he can
afford us no aid. He, indeed. and no
other, is the Tomb of Secrets"
He is acquainted with the inner recess
ses of households, with the histories
of tortured lives; he knows over what
home peace broods; he knows where
neglect and contention and abuse work
havoc, and where the dark strains run
in the blood from generation to gen
Grafton, to reveal themselves some day
In foul fungus or distraught brain. To
allh brings a consolation of his own,
delicate sympathy, promise of the
whole that he has an assurance of best
effort, a sense that everything which
skill aud science can do is being done,
and that the rest is only in the hands
Of God.
And when We are in the dreadful
presence of some sickness whose I'M
known issues touch upon the awful
mysteries of death, who is there that
comes into the room so like the com
mandcr of the forces of light, scatter
ing those of darkness, AS the family
physician Whoseems like him. to be
the actual ylcegerent of the great spirit
of good, fighting the inr0ads of evil?
How he labors, how interchangeable he
is, how he suffers with us, and wrestles
with fate for US! Herises in the dead
might, perhaps to walk through flu
rlous storm, perhaps to skate over fro
Zen rivers, perhaps to drive miles in
biting wintry winds. Light comes in
with him then out of the thick dark
ness. In the morning he brings in the
outside yigor of the healthy world.
lie is sure to come and give US reassu-
rance just when the sun is departing
aud taking allour little cheer with him
as the dreadful night sets in again.
And when the balance hangs so that
hair : weight may incline it either way.
up into the happy light or down into
the dark region where all abandon
hope, then he spends sleepless nights
beside us, discards less serious matters.
is away on flying visits, makes our woes
his own, and manifests on his errand of
mercy all the devotion of love.
And what motives are they that urge
him TO this sublime unselfiShness, this
work and suffering? 1t can be only
the love of science and the love of his
fellOwmen that spur him to this hero
ic duty, to this uniailing self-sacri6ce:
and beyond his success from day to day.
the chief reward he has is that his
very work at once refnes and enlarges
his nature, and gives his soul all the
time stronger and nobler existence.
Never, then, can we pay or attempt
to pay to a good family physician the
obligation of gratitude that we owe
him.