supplanted their meals by
tobacco or whiskey, the singular physiological truth remained that these
young, finely selected adventurers, living the lives of the natural,
aboriginal man, and looking the picture of health and strength, actually
suffered more from indigestion than the pampered dwellers of the cities.
The quantity of "patent medicines," "bitters," "pills," "panaceas,"
and "lozenges" sold in the settlement almost exceeded the amount of
the regular provisions whose effects they were supposed to correct.
The sufferers eagerly scanned advertisements and placards. There
were occasional "runs" on new "specifics," and general conversation
eventually turned into a discussion of their respective merits. A
certain childlike faith and trust in each new remedy was not the least
distressing and pathetic of the symptoms of these grown-up, bearded men.

"Well, gentlemen," said Cyrus Parker, glancing around at his fellow
sufferers, "ye kin talk of your patent medicines, and I've tackled 'em
all, but only the other day I struck suthin' that I'm goin' to hang on
to, you bet."

Every eye was turned moodily to the speaker, but no one said anything.

"And I didn't get it outer advertisements, nor off of circulars. I got
it outer my head, just by solid thinking," continued Parker.

"What was it, Cy?" said one unsophisticated and inexperienced sufferer.

Instead of replying, Parker, like a true artist, knowing he had the ear
of his audience, dramatically flashed a question upon them.

"Did you ever hear of a Chinaman having dyspepsy?"

"Never heard he had sabe enough to hev ANYTHING," said a scorner.

"No, but DID ye?" insisted Parker.

"Well, no!" chorused the group. They were evidently struck with the
fact.

"Of course you didn't," said Parker triumphantly. "'Cos they AIN'T.
Well, gentlemen, it didn't seem to me the square thing that a pesky lot
o' yellow-skinned heathens should be built different to a white man,
and never know the tortur' that a Christian feels; and one day, arter
dinner, when I was just a-lyin' flat down on the bank, squirmin', and
clutching the short grass to keep from yellin', who should go by but
that pizened See Yup, with a grin on his face.

"'Mellican man plenty playee to him Joss after eatin',' sez he; 'but
Chinaman smellee punk, allee same, and no hab got.'

"I knew the slimy cuss was just purtendin' he thought I was prayin' to
my Joss, but I was that weak I hadn't stren'th, boys, to heave