Year: 1863

ORPHEUs c. KERR ON ARMY SURGERY
There is certain something about sick room,
my boy that makes me think nervously of my
latter end, and recognize physicians as the
true heroes of the battlefield. The subdued
swearing of the sufferer on his bed, the mufiied
tread of the venerable nurse, as she comes into
the room to make sure that the brandy rec
omended by the doctor is not too mild for the
patient, the sepulchral tone of the regimental
cat as she recognizes the tread of Lord Morti-
mer, the sergeant's bull terrier, outside; all
these are things to make the spectator remem-
ber that we are but dust, that and to return to
dust is our destiny


Early in the week, my boy a member of the
Pennsylvania mud-larks was made sick in a
strange manner. A draft picked men from
certain regiments were ordered ior a perilous
expedition down the river.-You may be
aware, my boy, that draft is always danger
Gus to delicate constitutions, and, as the mud
lark happened to burst into a profuse prosper
alton about the time he found himself standing
in this draft, he, of course, took such a violent
cold that he had to be put to bed directly.
went to see him. my boy, and whilst he was
relating to me some OF the affecting anecdotes
of the time when he used to keep bar, a MEM
Der of the Medical staff of the United States
of America came in to see the patient


This venerable surgeon first deposited
large saw, a hatchet and two pickaxes on the
table, and then, said he:


'How do you find yourself, boy?"


The lark took a small chew Of tobacco with
melancholy air, and says he:


81 think I've got the guitar in my head, Mr..
Sawbones, and am about to join the angel
choir"


81 see how it is said the surgeon, thought
fully; "you think you've got the guitar, when
1t Is only the drum of your ear that is affected.
Well, said the surgeon with sudden pleasant
ness, as he reached after the saw and one of
the plckaxes, Il must amputate your leg at
once"


The mud-lark curled himself up in bed like
wounded anaconda, and says he:


Il don't see it in that light"


swell" said the surgeon in sprightly man
ner, "then suppose put fly blister OH your
stomach, and only amputate your right arn.'


The surgeon was formerly blacksmith my
boy, and got his diploma by inventing some
pills with iron in them. He proved that the
blood of six healthy men contained enough
iron TO make six horse shoes, and invented
the pills to cure hoarseness.


The sick man reflected on what his medical
adviser had said, and then says he:


Your words convince me that my situation
must be dangerous. must see some relative
before permit myself to be dissected."


"Who do you wish to send for?" says the
surgeon.


My grandmother, my dear old grandmoth-
er," said the Snud-lark, with much feeling.


The surgeon took me cautiously aside, and
says he


my poor patient has a cold in his head, and
his life depends, perhaps, on the qualification
of his wishes. You have heard him ask Tor
his grandmother says the surgeon SOFTLY"
"and as his grandmother lives too far away to
be sent for, we must practice little harmless
deception. We must send Tor Secretary Weles
of the Navy Department. and introduce him
as the grandmother. My patient will never
know the difference"


took the hint my boy, and went after the
Secretary, but the latter was so busy examn-
ing model of Noahs ark, that he could not
be seen. Happily, however, the patient re-
covered while the surgeon was getting his
saw filed, and was well enough last night to
reconnoiter in force