El Paso herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1901-1931, 1914-02-10
C6r SEE you have a bad cold, said the
hOtelkeeper. your voice sounds
like a foghorn on a rockbound

Z SEE you nave a Dad cold, said the
hoteIkeeper. your voice sounds
like a foghorn on a rockbound
coast"
Eyes, have all the staple and fancy
brands of a bad cold" complained the
retired merchant 81 have a bad habit
Of kicking the covers off me in the
night. I suppose it's a guilty con-
sciences makes me toss around. Along
about 2 o'clock every morning 1 wake
from a deep dream OF. peace and. find
my limbs covered with q. nosr frost and
gooseflesh, and the blankets and
things in heap on the floor. I am
going to the doctor now and get a
demijohn of medicine"
Lots of good it will do you" ex-
claimed the hotelkeeper. There ism t
any medicine that will relieve you of a
cold. The only thing you can do is to
let the blamed thing wear itself out.
OF course, as a matter of justice to
your friends, you should stay at home
until you are recovered, and do your
sneeZing and coughing in private.
There's nothing more annoying to me
than to see a man come into this hotel
and sit around in the chairs intended
Tor paying guests and bark and cough
until the plaster falls from the ceiling.
Ny advice TO you is to go home and
y 3
water, and put q. mustard plaster on
the back Of your neck and another on
the pit Of your stomach, and swallow
kerosene until you feel like a dOggone
hanging lamp. OF course these rene
dies won't do you any good, but they'll
make your mind easy. A man feels
that he ought to be doing something
for his own relief when he has cold,
even when he knows that nothing will
do any good.
7,-oz no. TTo- NH an
ever I had a cold. I always had lot
Of confidence in him because he wore
long, black WhiskerS and a plug hat.
You can denOunce WhiSkers until the
COWS come home, but the doctor VINO
hasn't bunch Of them is badly handl-
capped. Well, I used to blow in on him
and saw. Doc. I've got all kinds of a
bad cold, and I want something that
will knock the tar out OF it DO you
suppose that he'd sit down and write
boards. He'd feel my pulse and make
me push out my tongue. and then he'd
climb up on my lap and put his head
against my bosom, and listen to make
sure my heart was doing business at
the old stand; then he'd sit down and
ask me a million questions that had
nothing to do with the case. Did my
heart palpitate when fell down stairs
or ran three miles to catch a train?
Did eat meat three times a day2 Had
7 ever been troubled with ingrowing
cOrns2 Was there any trace of insanity
in my family? What was my great
grandmOther's maiden name?
He'd ask all such fool questions, and
when the catechism was ended, he'd
spend minute or two in silent thought.
as though. the case was one Of the most
complex he ever ran Up against, and
finally he'd give me his prescription,
and when I got the medicine at the
drug store it was Just the same as the
last I got. 1t was pale green in color
and tasted like a hens nest, and It
didn't do any good. No doctor ever
writes a prescription right off the reel.
It's part Of the game to pretend that
your case is something serious. calling
for profound thought on the part of the
pilliammer.
1T took me long time to discover