end was afraid to put the question of eatables, lest
the doctor should have directed him to live on oats. 'Your modern good
fellows,' continued John, 'are only ambitious of rivalling a brewer's
horse; who after all will carry more liquor than the best of them.'
'What is good to assist a weak digestion?' said another patient. 'Weak
food and warm clothing,' was the reply; 'not, ~105~~however, forgetting
my _blue pill_.' When you have dined well, sleep well: wrap yourself up
in a warm watch-coat, and imitate your dog by basking yourself at full
length before the fire; these are a few of the Abernethy maxims for
dyspeptic patients." I had heard much of this celebrated man, and was
desirous of gleaning some more anecdotes of his peculiarities. With
this view I laid siege to Mr. Galen Cornaro, who appeared to be well
acquainted with the whims of the practitioner. "I remember, sir," said
my informant, "a very good fellow of the name of Elliot, a bass-singer
at the concerts and theatres of the metropolis; a man very much
resembling John Abernethy in person, and still more so in manner; one
who under a rough exterior carried as warm a heart as ever throbbed
within the human bosom. Elliot had fallen ill of the jaundice, and
having imbibed a very strong dislike to the name of doctor, whether
musical or medical, refused the solicitations of his friends to receive
a visit from any one of the faculty; to this eccentricity of feeling he
added a predilection for curing every disease of the body by the use of
simples, decoctions, and fomentations extracted from the musty records
of old Culpepper, the English physician. Pursuing this principle, Elliot
every day appeared to grow worse, and drooped like the yellow leaf of
autumn in its sear; until his friends, alarmed for his safety, sent
to Abernethy, determined to take the patient by surprise. Imagine a
robust-formed man, sinking under disease and _ennui_, seated before the
fire, at his side a table covered with phials and pipkins, and near him
his _vade mecum_, the renowned Culpepper. A knock is heard at the
door. 'Come in!' vociferates the invalid, with stentorian lungs yet
unimpaired; and enter John Abernethy, not a little surprised by
the ungraciousness of his reception. 'Who are you?' said Elliot in
thorough-bass, just inclining his head half round to recognize his
visitor, ~106~~without attempting to rise from his seat: Abernethy
appeared astonished, but advancing towards his patient