SICKNESS.
"You have got a bad cold, Oscar," said Mrs. Preston one evening towards
the close of winter, as Oscar came in from his play, and was seized
with a coughing spell. "And no wonder," she added, on glancing at his
feet; "why, do you see how wet the bottoms of your pantaloons are? I
should like to know where you have been, to get so wet--it is strange
that you will not keep out of the water."
"I should like to know how anybody could help getting wet feet this
weather, with the slosh up to your knees," said Oscar.
"I could walk about the streets all day without going over my shoes,"
replied his mother, "and so could you, if you tried to. I believe you
go through all the mud-puddles you can find, just to see how wet you
can get. But it won't do for you to sit down in this condition. Take
off your wet boots, and run up stairs and put on a pair of dry
pantaloons and some dry stockings, and then you may sit down to the
fire and warm yourself."
"I don't want to change my pantaloons and stockings," said Oscar; "I
'll take off my boots and dry myself--that will do just as well."
"No it won't," replied his mother; "you had better change your clothes,
for you've got a real bad cold now, and I don't want you to get any
more. Come, do you hear me? Run up to your chamber and put on some
dry clothes."
Oscar paid no attention to the command, but after removing his wet
boots, sat down before the range to dry his feet and legs. Such
instances of disobedience were too common in the family to attract any
special notice, and Mrs. Preston said nothing more about the matter.
Oscar, that afternoon, had been down to the shores of Charles River,
near Cambridge Bridge, with Alfred Walton and several other boys. They
had been amusing themselves upon the ice that had formed along the edge
of the river, and which was now breaking up. They loosened some of the
large cakes, and set them floating off upon the current towards the
ocean. It was in this way that Oscar got his feet so wet.
The next afternoon, when school was dismissed, Oscar, forgetting his
wet feet and his cold, went again to the same place, with several of
his cronies. Tiger also accompanied the party, for his master seldom
went anywhere without him, except to school. The boys amused
themselves, as on the previous day, with shoving off large blocks of
ice into the stream, and with running rapidly over floating pieces that
were not large enough to bear them up. Sometimes they narrowly escaped
a ducking, so venturesome were they; and all of them got their feet
pretty thoroughly soaked.
It happened, after awhile, that a cake of ice upon which the boys were
all standing, got disengaged from the shore, unperceived by them, and
commenced floating into the river. They were all at work upon another
ice-block, trying to push it off, and did not notice that they were
going off themselves, until they were several feet from the shore. The
distance was too great to leap, and the water was so deep that none of
them dared to jump off from their precarious footing.
"Well, this is a pretty joke," said one of the boys, with some
appearance of alarm. "I should like to know how we are going to get
out of this scrape?"
"Get out of it?--who wants to get out of it?" replied Oscar. "I don't,
for one--we shall have a first-rate sail down into the harbor; shan't
we, Alf?"
"The tide will take us right under the bridge, and I 'm going to climb
up one of the piers," said Alfred, who appeared to be thinking more of
a way of escape than of the pleasures of the trip.
"Pooh, I shan't get off there," said Oscar. "I 'm in for a sail, and
if the rest of you back out, I shan't. You 'll go too, won't you, Tom?"
Before Tom could answer, they all began to notice that their ice-cake
gave signs that the burden upon it was greater than it could safely
bear. The swift current began to whirl it about in a rather
uncomfortable manner, and it was gradually settling under water. They
all began to be very much alarmed--all but Tiger, who did not quite
comprehend the situation of affairs, and who looked up into the boys'
faces with an expression of curiosity, as though he wanted to say:
"I wonder what mischief these little rogues are up to now?"
Several people who were crossing the bridge now noticed the perilous
situation of the boys, and stopped to look at them. As soon as Alfred
noticed them, he cried out slowly, at the top of his voice:
"Halloo, there! send us a boat, will you? we 're sinking!"
[Illustration: Afloat on the Ice.]
There was some doubt whether the people on the bridge understood the
cry, and the other boys repeated it as loud as they could, in the
meantime also trying to manifest their want by signs and gestures.
Some of the spectators upon the bridge, who were now quite numerous,
shouted back in reply; but the boys, being to their windward, could not
understand what they said. Their frail support was now moving rapidly
along, and whirling about in the eddies more alarmingly than ever. It
had sunk so low that they were all standing in the water, and they
expected it would shortly break to pieces and precipitate them all into
the river. There were four of them upon the cake, besides the dog.
The two youngest boys began to cry with fright; but Oscar and Alfred,
though they were as much alarmed as the others, did not manifest it in
this way, but were looking anxiously towards the bridge and the shore
for relief.
The boys were not long kept in this dreadful state of suspense; for
pretty soon they discovered a boat putting out towards them from the
end of the bridge. There were two men in it, each of whom was plying
an oar. They called out to the boys not to be frightened, and in a few
minutes they were alongside the fugitive ice-cake, whose living freight
was safely transferred to the boat. The boatmen then pulled for the
wharf from which they came, and the rescued party had the pleasure of
standing once more upon firm ground. They were so overjoyed at their
escape that they forgot to thank the men who had taken so much trouble
to rescue them. They were not ungrateful however; though it would have
been better if their words as well as their looks had expressed the
sentiment they felt. As soon as they reached the wharf, the men
advised them to run home and dry themselves, which they proceeded to do.
When Oscar reached home, he was so hoarse, from hallooing, that he
could not speak aloud. When his mother heard of his exposure, and saw
how wet he was, she was much concerned for him. She wished him to
change his damp clothing, but he did not think it necessary, and
instead of complying with her desire, he sat down to the fire and dried
himself. He had but little appetite for supper; and a headache coming
on in the evening, he retired to bed early. Before dong so, however,
he took a dose of medicine which his mother had prepared, to "throw
off" his cold.
After a feverish and restless night--in which, in his troubled dreams,
Oscar had floated to sea upon a small piece of ice, and, after a long
agony, foundered alone in fathomless waters--he awoke in the morning
feeling very strangely. Every few moments a cold chill ran through his
body, that made him shiver until the bed trembled beneath him. His
head ached badly, and there was also a pain in his back. He tried to
raise himself up, but his arms had lost their strength, and he was
barely able to support himself a moment upon his elbow. By-and-bye his
brothers, who slept in the same room in another bed, got up, and Oscar
informed them that he was too weak to get off the bed. They soon
called in their father and mother, who, after looking at the sick boy,
concluded to send for a physician.
After breakfast, Ralph was despatched for the doctor, who soon arrived,
and was conducted into Oscar's chamber. Seating himself upon the
bedside, he took the sick boy's wrist into his hand, and began to talk
with him very pleasantly, asking him various questions about his
feelings, the manner in which he took cold, &c. Having ascertained all
the facts and symptoms of the case, he told the family he thought Oscar
was suffering from an attack of lung fever, and he then gave directions
as to the manner in which the disease should be treated. He also wrote
a recipe for some medicine, to be procured at the apothecary's. The
terms used in it were Latin, and very much abbreviated, besides, so
that they were unintelligible to Mrs. Preston; for this is a custom
among physicians, that has come down from ancient times. Seeing Mrs.
Preston was in some doubt about the prescription, he explained to her
what the articles were that composed it, and the effect they would have
upon the patient.
After the doctor had gone, it was decided to remove Oscar into another
chamber, in a lower story, where he would be more comfortable, and
where, also, it would be more convenient to wait upon him. Wrapping
him up warmly in the bed-clothes, his father took him in his arms, and
carried him to the room he was to occupy for the present.
In spite of his medicine, Oscar continued to grow worse, through the
day. He longed for night to come, that he might go to sleep; but when
it came, it did not bring with it the refreshing slumber of health.
Short naps and troubled dreams alternated with long, weary hours of
wakefulness; and the sun, at its next rising, found him sicker than
before. The pains in his head and chest were more severe; his skin was
hot and dry; his cheeks were flushed with fever; he breathed with
difficulty, and his cough had become quite distressing. He felt cross
and fretful, too, and nothing that was done for him seemed to give him
satisfaction. He was unwilling that any one should attend upon him,
except his mother, and refused to receive his food or medicine from any
hand but hers. If she happened to be absent from his room more than a
few moments, when he was awake, he would insist upon her being called
back.
But though Oscar would not allow his mother to leave him, she did not
suit him much better than the other members of the family. It was with
considerable difficulty that she could coax him to take the medicines
the doctor had ordered. Then she was obliged to deny him all forms of
nourishment, except a little gum-arabic water,--an arrangement at which
he complained a good deal.
Oscar's fever continued to run for more than a week, the violence of
the disease increasing from day to day. Then a favorable change took
place, and the doctor told him the fever had turned, and he was getting
better. For a day or two before this, however, he was very ill; so
ill, indeed, that he submitted to whatever the doctor ordered, without
a word of complaint. He felt that there was danger, and he dare not
stand in the way of the means used for his recovery. To this, perhaps,
he owed the favorable turn the disease had taken; for had he refused to
take his medicines, as he did at the commencement of his sickness, or
even had he only engaged in a fruitless but exhausting contest with his
mother, the scale might have turned the other way, and the fever ended
in death.
Getting better! That was the best news Oscar had heard for many a day.
He almost wanted to kiss the lips that spoke those encouraging words.
He always liked Dr. Liscom, but never so well as at that moment. It
was good news to all the household, too, and flew quickly from one to
another. In fact, the children grew so jubilant over it, that their
mother had to remind them that Oscar was yet too sick to bear any noise
in the house.
"O dear," said George, "I 've got tired of keeping so still. How long
will it be before we can make a real good noise, mother?"
"And how long before I can sing, and practice my music-lessons,
mother?" inquired Ella.
"And how long before Oscar can go out and play?" inquired Ralph, more
thoughtful for his sick brother than for himself.
"I can't tell," replied their mother; "you must all keep still a few
days longer, for Oscar is very weak now, and the noise disturbs him.
The doctor thinks it will take several weeks for him to get fully well,
but he will soon be able to sit up, I hope."
The next morning, Oscar felt decidedly better, and so he continued to
improve day by day. But his old impatience soon began to return. He
grumbled every time the hour returned to take his drops, and he fairly
rebelled against the food that was prepared for him--a little weak
gruel, when his appetite was clamoring for a hearty meal of beef and
potatoes! During his sickness, many little delicacies had been sent in
to him by friends and neighbors, and from most of these too he was
still debarred by the inexorable doctor. He teased his mother to let
him have things the doctor had forbidden, and was offended with her
when she refused. He thus made a great deal of unnecessary trouble and
suffering for his mother, who had served him so devotedly through this
sickness that her own health was giving way.
A day or two after his fever turned, Oscar wished to sit up in a chair,
and begged very hard to be allowed to get up from the bed.
"Why, Oscar," said his mother, "you could not sit up two minutes, if I
should put you in a chair. You have no idea how weak you are."
"No, I aint weak," replied Oscar; "I bet you I can walk across the room
just as well as you can--you don't know how strong I 've grown within a
day or two. Come, mother, do let me get up, will you?"
"You are crazy to talk so, my son," answered Mrs. Preston. "If you
should try to stand up, you would faint away as dead as a log. It will
be a week before you are strong enough to walk about."
"I believe you mean to keep me sick as long as you can," was Oscar's
unfeeling reply. "I am tired almost to death of laying a-bed," he
added, and the tears began to gather in his eyes.
His mother felt hurt by these words, but she attributed them to the
weakening and irritating influence of disease, and forgave them as
quickly as they were uttered. She even yielded to his wishes so far as
to offer to let him sit up in bed a little while. He gladly acceded to
the proposal, and putting his arms around her neck, she slowly raised
him up; but he had no sooner reached an upright position than his head
began to "fly round like a top," and he was very glad to be let down
again to his pillow. This little experiment satisfied him for the day.
It was a fine April morning when Oscar was first taken up from his sick
bed, and placed in an easy chair, well lined with blankets and
comforters. This was a memorable event in his life, the first time he
sat up after nearly three weeks' confinement to his bed. He was
dragged to the front window, from which he could see the people upon
the street below. How familiar, and yet how strange, everything and
everybody looked to his sick eyes! And then, to have his toast and
drink set before him upon a corner of the table, where he could help
himself, and eat and drink with some comfort,--was n't that "grand," to
use his own expressive term!
Oscar's recovery was now pretty rapid, but his mother had to watch him
very sharply, to prevent him from running into excesses, to which his
impatience continually prompted him. It was hard to make him realize
that there was yet some danger of a relapse, and that prudence would be
necessary for several weeks to come.