In the first place, you must not cough. If you find a cough tickling
in your throat, you must arrest it from making any sound; if you find
yourself choking with the forbearance, you must choke--but not cough.
In the second place, you must not sneeze. If you have a vehement cold,
you must take no notice of it; if your nose membranes feel a great
irritation, you must hold your breath; if a sneeze still insists upon
making its way, you must oppose it, by keeping your teeth grinding
together; if the violence of the repulse breaks some blood-vessel, you
must break the blood-vessel--but not sneeze.
In the third place, you must not, upon any account, stir either hand or
foot. If, by chance, a black pin runs into your head, you must not take
it out. If the pain is very great, you must be sure to bear it without
wincing; if it brings the tears into your eyes, you must not wipe them
off; if they give you a tingling by running down your cheeks, you must
look as if nothing was the matter. If the blood should gush from your
head by means of the black pin, you must let it gush; if you are uneasy
to think of making such a blurred appearance, you must be uneasy, but
you must say nothing about it. If, however, the agony is very great, you
may, privately, bite the inside of your cheek, or of your lips, for a
little relief; taking care, meanwhile, to do it so cautiously as to make
no apparent dent outwardly. And, with that precaution, if you even gnaw
a piece out, it will not be minded, only be sure either to swallow
it, or commit it to a corner of the inside of your mouth till they are
gone--for you must not spit.
I have many other directions but no more paper; I will endeavour,
however, to have them ready for you in time. Perhaps, meanwhile,
you would be glad to know if I have myself had opportunity to put in
practice these receipts?