St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1892-01-28
THAT MICROBE.

1t was late in the fall of 1891 when,
suddenly one afternoon, about four
O'Clock, MI. Wallace Brett became
aware that the vague, ~indehnable
annoyance that had been troubling
him all day was developing into a
headache. There are headaches and
headaches. Some of them will give
quarter, hold parley, and capitulate
upon remonstrance. These belong
to one class; Mr.. Wallace Brett's be-
1onged to the other. 1t occupied the
space above his eyes, behind his ears,
and penetrated all the medullary
substance of the cerebrum and OBJ
1ongata. 1t did not, like well-reguIat-
ed headaches, end even here, but
continued its triumphant course
along the spinalis, causing Mr.. Brett
to regret that he possessed a vertebra,
every one of whose thirty-three
bones panied him o than a
jumping tOOthache.
Mr.. Brett closed the ledger, into
which he had been transferring
entries from the journal, and leaned
his head upon his hand.
Something a down his back that
I'LL IN oAAoctNEOh liz
Mrs. Brett, in the morning, request
ed him togetu up and make the kitchen
fire.
Then the silence of the office was
broken by cloud A-chou's! follow
ed so rapidly by a shrill succession
of repetitions, that the AS dropped
off and left them chou 'CHoUs!
There was a giggling among the
clerks in the other room at the book
keepers expense. "Brett's gettin'
there" said n to another.
Mr.. Brett sat for a half hour
longer, alternately sneezing and hold
ing his head then into his overcoat
and started for home.
But while he waited at a corner
for the tardy street-car, he began to
imagine that his head was an anvil,
and Longfellow's village blacksmith
was hammering it with a sledge.
Something about ''c~hestnuts' kept
going over and over in his mind, and
he couldn't get it right.
81 believe I'm going crazy"
thought Mr.. Brett. Visions of
straightjackets and padded cells
hoated before his mental optics, and
not altogether pleasing.
It'll take time by the forelock,"
Thought he, land stop in and consult
DIR. Know-nothing."
DIR. KnOw-nOthing was holding a
leeve OF men, women, and children,
and all of them were remarking, GA
choul A-choul" With impartial
hand he was dealing out quinine
capsules, right and left, and recon-
mending them all to take "a good,
stiff dose of whisky, from three to six
times a day"
IF it makes you see double, SC
much the better" said he twill show
that the remedy is taking hold
Whisky's like ptomaine; it kills the
microbe. These here microbes, l was
reading last night, are bigger
with 'em. Need a sight of kiln"
This borrowed witticism was met
with a roar of laughter. When Mr.
Wallace Brett got a chance to b.
heard, he cleared his throat, anc
said, in a deprecating way: q
never drink, doctor. The truth is
I'm opposed to it. l signed th'
pledge years ago, and I'm uncom
promising
Eyes, yes, 1 understand! That.
all right. I'm a temperance man my
self. But you have to fight the devi
with fire, you know, and microbe
with poison. Easy enough to droI
it off when you get better. Eas,
enough to drop off yourself, eh, if yol
don't use it ?"
Mr.. Wallace Brett was a goot
Methodist and a Christian. H
knew that all men are mortal, ant
must drop off" sooner or later
But he preferred that in his case i
should be later. He had a dear wifi
and two lovely children. He wa
paying for his snug little home in in
stallments. Carrie and the boy
needed him, it was very evident, an
it wouldn't do to take risks.
IA pint-bottle and do it justice,
shouted the doctor after him as h
went out at the door.
Mr. Brett was glad that the clerl
at the drugstore where he stoppe'
was a strange one, and didn't know
him, when he shamefacedly called 70
a pint of their best quality of col,
rye" He thought, though. Their
was a ~supercilious smirk about tn
young mans mouth as he timidl
added-"for Sickness"
He was mistaken; 1T was only tn
way in which the young mans mus