SOME years ago, a bill was up before the Alabama Legislature for
establishing a Botanical College at Wetumpka. Several able speakers had
made long addresses in support of the bill when one Mr. Morrisett, from
Monroe, took the floor. With much gravity he addressed the House as
follows: "Mr. Speaker, I cannot support this bill unless assured that a
distinguished friend of mine is made one of the professors. He is what
the bill wishes to make for us, a regular root doctor, and will suit the
place exactly. He became a doctor in two hours, and it only cost him
twenty dollars to complete his education. He bought a book, Sir, and
read the chapter on fevers, that was enough. He was called to see a sick
woman indeed, and he felt her wrist, looked into her mouth, and then,
turning to her husband, asked solemnly, if he had a 'sorrel sheep?'
'Why, no, I never heard of such a thing.' Said the doctor, nodding his
head knowingly, 'Have you got a sorrel horse then?' 'Yes,' said the man,
'I drove him to the mill this morning.' 'Well,' said the doctor, 'he
must be killed immediately, and some soup made of him for your wife.'
The woman turned her head away, and the astonished man inquired if
something else would not do for the soup, the horse was worth a hundred
dollars, and was all the one he had. 'No,' said the doctor, 'the book
says so, and if you don't believe it I will read it to you: Good for
fevers--sheep sorrel or horse sorrel. There, Sir.' 'Why, doctor,' said
the man and his wife, 'it don't mean a sorrel sheep or horse, but--'
'Well, I know what I am about,' interrupted the doctor; 'that's the way
we doctors read it, and we understand it.' "Now," continued the
speaker, amidst the roars of the house, "unless my sorrel doctor can be
one of the professors, I must vote against this bill." The blow most
effectually killed the bill, it is needless to state.