A Canadian, of a nervous, consumptive diathesis, went down to Portland,
Maine, to consult a physician, and fell in with old Dr. F., whom he found
busily engaged in examining some papers. The old doctor heard his case,
and hurriedly wrote him a prescription. The chirography of the doctor was
none of the best, yet the Portland druggists, who were familiar with his
scrawls, could easily decipher his prescriptions. Not so the country
apothecary, to whom the patient took the recipe, to save expense, which
was something as follows: "Spiritus frumenti et valerianum," etc.; then
followed the directions for taking.
After much delay and consultation with the green-grocer boy, it was put up
as a painter's article, viz., "spirits turpentine and varnish."
The first glass-full satisfied the invalid.