"I hope not. The attack is sudden and severe. But much worse cases
recover. I will call round again before bed time."
The doctor went away feeling far from comfortable. Only a few hours
before he, had left a man sick with cholera beyond recovery, who
had, to his certain knowledge, adopted the
brandy-drinking-preventive-system but a week before; and that at his
recommendation. And here was another case.
At eleven o'clock Dr. L--called to see Mr. Hobart again, and found
him rapidly sinking. Not a single symptom had been reached by his
treatment. The poor man was in great pain. Every muscle in his body
seemed affected by cramps and spasms. His mind, however, was
perfectly clear. As the doctor sat feeling his pulse, Hobart said to
him--
"Doctor L--, it is too late!"
"Oh, no. It is never too late," replied the doctor. "Don't think of
death; think of life, and that will help to sustain you. You are
not, by any means, at the last point. Hundreds, worse than you now
are, come safely through. I don't intend to let you slip through my
hands."
"Doctor," said the sick man, speaking in a solemn voice, "I feel
that I am beyond the reach of medicine. I shall die. What I now say
I do not mean as a reproach. I speak it only as a truth right for
you to know. Do you see my poor wife?"
The doctor turned his eyes upon Mrs. Hobart, who stood weeping by
the bedside.
"When she is left a widow, and my children orphans," continued the
patient, "remember that you have made them such!"
"Me! Why do you say that, Mr. Hobart?" The doctor looked startled.
"Because it is the truth. I was a well man, when you, as my medical
adviser, recommended me to drink brandy as a protection against
disease. I was in fear of the infection, and followed your
prescription. From the moment I took the first draught my body lost
its healthy equilibrium; and not only my body, but my mind. I was a
reformed man, and the taste inflamed the old appetite. From that
time until now I have not been really sober."
The doctor was distressed and confounded by this declaration. He had
feared that such was the case; but now it was charged unequivocally.
"I am pained at all this," he replied, "In sinning I sinned
ignorantly."
But, ere he could finish his reply, the sick man became suddenly
worse, and sunk into a state of insensibility.
"If it be in human power to save his life," murmured the doctor--"I
will save it."
Through the whole night he remained at the bed-side, giving, with
his own hands, all the remedies, and applying every curative means
within reach. But, when the day broke, there was little, if any
change for the better. He then went home, but returned in a couple
of hours.
"How is your husband?" he asked of the pale-faced wife as he
entered. She did not reply, and they went up to the chamber
together. A deep silence reigned in the room as they entered.
"Is he asleep?" whispered the doctor.
"See!" The wife threw back the sheet.
"O!" was the only sound that escaped the doctor's lips. It was a
prolonged sound, and uttered in a tone of exquisite distress. The
white and ghastly face of death was before him.
"It is your work!" murmured the unhappy woman, half beside herself
in her affliction.
"Madam! do not say that!" ejaculated the physician. "Do not say
that!"
"It is the truth! Did he not charge it upon you with his dying
breath?"
"I did all for the best, madam! all for the best! It was an error in
his case. But I meant him no harm."
"You put poison to his lips, and destroyed him. You have made his
wife a widow and his children orphans!"
"Madam!--"The doctor knit his brows and spoke in a stern voice. But,
ere he had uttered a word more, the stricken-hearted woman gave a
wild scream and fell upon the floor. Nature had been tried beyond
the point of endurance, and reason was saved at the expense of
physical prostration.
A few weeks later, and Doctor L--, in driving past the former
residence of Mr. Hobart, saw furniture cars at the door. The family
were removing. Death had taken the husband and father, and the poor
widow was going forth with her little ones from the old and pleasant
home, to gather them around her in a smaller and poorer place. His
feelings at the moment none need envy.
How many, like Mr. Hobart, have died through the insane prescription
of brandy as a preventive to cholera! and how many more have fallen
back into old habits, and become hopeless drunkards! Brandy is not
good for health at any time; how much less so, when the very air we
breathe is filled with a subtle poison, awaiting the least
disturbance in the human economy to affect it with disease.