can knock the blues out by vaccinating with
the reading matter.

To those who are inclined to look upon the bright side of life, this
book is most respectfully dedicated by the author.

GEO. W. PECK. Milwaukee, Wis.,

March, 1882.

PECK'S SUNSHINE.

FEMALE DOCTORS WILL NEVER DO.

A St. Louis doctor factory recently turned out a dozen female doctors.
As long as the female doctors were confined to one or two in the whole
country, and these were experimental, the _Sun_ held its peace, and did
not complain; but now that the colleges are engaged in producing female
doctors as a business, we must protest, and in so doing will give a few
reasons why female doctors will not prove a paying branch of industry.

In the first place, if they doctor anybody it must be women, and
three-fourths of the women had rather have a male doctor. Suppose these
colleges turn out female doctors until there are as many of them as
there are male doctors, what have they got to practice on?

A man, if there was nothing the matter with him, might call in a female
doctor; but if he was sick as a horse--and when a man is sick he is
sick as a horse--the last thing he would have around would be a female
doctor. And why? Because when a man wants a female fumbling around him
he wants to feel well. He don't want to be bilious, or feverish, with
his mouth tasting like cheese, and his eyes bloodshot, when a female is
looking over him and taking an account of stock.

Of course these female doctors are all young and good looking, and if
one of them came into a sick room where a man was in bed, and he had
chills, and was as cold as a wedge, and she should sit up close to the
side of the bed, and take hold of his hand, his pulse would run up to
a hundred and fifty and she would prescribe for a fever when he had
chilblains. Then if he died she could be arrested for malpractice. O,
you can't fool us on female doctors.

A man who has been sick and had male doctors, knows just how he would
feel to have a female doctor come tripping in and throw her fur lined
cloak over a chair, take off her hat and gloves, and throw them on a
lounge, and come up to the bed with a pair of marine blue eyes, with a
twinkle in the corner, and look him in the wild, changeable eyes, and
ask him to run out his tongue. Suppose he knew his tongue was coated so
it looked like a yellow Turkish towel, do you suppose he would want to
run out five or six inches of the lower