the poet at the breakfast table-第13部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

elder　and　carries　a　pellet　of　very　moderate　consistency。　　That　Boy
was　in　his　seat　and　looking　demure　enough；　but　there　could　be　no
question　that　he　was　the　artillery…man　who　had　discharged　the
missile。　　The　aim　was　not　a　bad　one；　for　it　took　the　Master　full　in
the　forehead；　and　had　the　effect　of　checking　the　flow　of　his
eloquence。　　How　the　little　monkey　had　learned　to　time　his
interruptions　I　do　not　know；　but　I　have　observed　more　than　once
before　this；　that　the　popgun　would　go　off　just　at　the　moment　when
some　one　of　the　company　was　getting　too　energetic　or　prolix。　　The　Boy
isn't　old　enough　to　judge　for　himself　when　to　intervene　to　change　the
order　of　conversation；　no；　of　course　he　isn't。　　Somebody　must　give
him　a　hint。　　Somebody。　Who　is　it？　　I　suspect　Dr。　B。　Franklin。　　He
looks　too　knowing。　　There　is　certainly　a　trick　somewhere。　　Why；　a　day
or　two　ago　I　was　myself　discoursing；　with　considerable　effect；　as　I
thought；　on　some　of　the　new　aspects　of　humanity；　when　I　was　struck
full　on　the　cheek　by　one　of　these　little　pellets；　and　there　was　such
a　confounded　laugh　that　I　had　to　wind　up　and　leave　off　with　a
preposition　instead　of　a　good　mouthful　of　polysyllables。　　I　have
watched　our　young　Doctor；　however；　and　have　been　entirely　unable　to
detect　any　signs　of　communication　between　him　and　this　audacious
child；　who　is　like　to　become　a　power　among　us；　for　that　popgun　is
fatal　to　any　talker　who　is　hit　by　its　pellet。　　I　have　suspected　a
foot　under　the　table　as　the　prompter；　but　I　have　been　unable　to
detect　the　slightest　movement　or　look　as　if　he　were　making　one；　on
the　part　of　Dr。　Benjamin　Franklin。　　I　cannot　help　thinking　of　the
flappers　in　Swift's　Laputa；　only　they　gave　one　a　hint　when　to　speak
and　another　a　hint　to　listen；　whereas　the　popgun　says　unmistakably；
〃Shut　up！〃

I　should　be　sorry　to　lose　my　confidence　in　Dr。　B。　Franklin；　who
seems　very　much　devoted　to　his　business；　and　whom　I　mean　to　consult
about　some　small　symptoms　I　have　had　lately。　　Perhaps　it　is　coming　to
a　new　boarding…house。　　The　young　people　who　come　into　Paris　from　the
provinces　are　very　aptso　I　have　been　told　by　one　that　knowsto
have　an　attack　of　typhoid　fever　a　few　weeks　or　months　after　their
arrival。　　I　have　not　been　long　enough　at　this　table　to　get　well
acclimated；　perhaps　that　is　it。　　Boarding…House　Fever。　　Something
like　horse…ail；　very　likely；horses　get　it；　you　know；　when　they　are
brought　to　city　stables。　　A　little　〃off　my　feed；〃　as　Hiram　Woodruff
would　say。　　A　queer　discoloration　about　my　forehead。　　Query；　a　bump？
Cannot　remember　any。　　Might　have　got　it　against　bedpost　or　something
while　asleep。　　Very　unpleasant　to　look　so。　　I　wonder　how　my　portrait
would　look；　if　anybody　should　take　it　now！　　I　hope　not　quite　so　badly
as　one　I　saw　the　other　day；　which　I　took　for　the　end　man　of　the
Ethiopian　Serenaders；　or　some　traveller　who　had　been　exploring　the
sources　of　the　Niger；　until　I　read　the　name　at　the　bottom　and　found
it　was　a　face　I　knew　as　well　as　my　own。

I　must　consult　somebody；　and　it　is　nothing　more　than　fair　to　give　our
young　Doctor　a　chance。　　Here　goes　for　Dr。　Benjamin　Franklin。

The　young　Doctor　has　a　very　small　office　and　a　very　large　sign；　with
a　transparency　at　night　big　enough　for　an　oyster…shop。　　These　young
doctors　are　particularly　strong；　as　I　understand；　on　what　they　call
diagnosis；an　excellent　branch　of　the　healing　art；　full　of
satisfaction　to　the　curious　practitioner；　who　likes　to　give　the　right
Latin　name　to　one's　complaint；　not　quite　so　satisfactory　to　the
patient；　as　it　is　not　so　very　much　pleasanter　to　be　bitten　by　a　dog
with　a　collar　round　his　neck　telling　you　that　he　is　called　Snap　or
Teaser；　than　by　a　dog　without　a　collar。　　Sometimes；　in　fact；　one
would　a　little　rather　not　know　the　exact　name　of　his　complaint；　as　if
he　does　he　is　pretty　sure　to　look　it　out　in　a　medical　dictionary；　and
then　if　he　reads；　This　terrible　disease　is　attended　with　vast
suffering　and　is　inevitably　mortal；　or　any　such　statement；　it　is　apt
to　affect　him　unpleasantly。

I　confess　to　a　little　shakiness　when　I　knocked　at　Dr。　Benjamin's
office　door。　　〃Come　in！〃　exclaimed　Dr。　B。　F。　in　tones　that　sounded
ominous　and　sepulchral。　　And　I　went　in。

I　don't　believe　the　chambers　of　the　Inquisition　ever　presented　a　more
alarming　array　of　implements　for　extracting　a　confession；　than　our
young　Doctor's　office　did　of　instruments　to　make　nature　tell　what　was
the　matter　with　a　poor　body。

There　were　Ophthalmoscopes　and　Rhinoscopes　and　Otoscopes　and
Laryngoscopes　and　Stethoscopes；　and　Thermometers　and　Spirometers　and
Dynamometers　and　Sphygmometers　and　Pleximeters；　and　Probes　and
Probangs　and　all　sorts　of　frightful　inquisitive　exploring
contrivances；　and　scales　to　weigh　you　in；　and　tests　and　balances　and
pumps　and　electro…magnets　and　magneto…electric　machines；　in　short；
apparatus　for　doing　everything　but　turn　you　inside　out。

Dr。　Benjamin　set　me　down　before　his　one　window　and　began　looking　at
me　with　such　a　superhuman　air　of　sagacity；　that　I　felt　like　one　of
those　open…breasted　clocks　which　make　no　secret　of　their　inside
arrangements；　and　almost　thought　he　could　see　through　me　as　one　sees
through　a　shrimp　or　a　jelly…fish。　　First　he　looked　at　the　place
inculpated；　which　had　a　sort　of　greenish…brown　color；　with　his　naked
eyes；　with　much　corrugation　of　forehead　and　fearful　concentration　of
attention；　then　through　a　pocket…glass　which　he　carried。　　Then　he
drew　back　a　space；　for　a　perspective　view。　　Then　he　made　me　put　out
my　tongue　and　laid　a　slip　of　blue　paper　on　it；　which　turned　red　and
scared　me　a　little。　　Next　he　took　my　wrist；　but　instead　of　counting
my　pulse　in　the　old…fashioned　way；　he　fastened　a　machine　to　it　that
marked　all　the　beats　on　a　sheet　of　paper；for　all　the　world　like　a
scale　of　the　heights　of　mountains；　say　from　Mount　Tom　up　to
Chimborazo　and　then　down　again；　and　up　again；　and　so　on。　　In　the　mean
time　he　asked　me　all　sorts　of　questions　about　myself　and　all　my
relatives；　whether　we　had　been　subject　to　this　and　that　malady；　until
I　felt　as　if　we　must　some　of　us　have　had　more　or　less　of　them；　and
could　not　feel　quite　sure　whether　Elephantiasis　and　Beriberi　and
Progressive　Locomotor　Ataxy　did　not　run　in　the　family。

After　all　this　overhauling　of　myself　and　my　history；　he　paused　and
looked　puzzled。　　Something　was　suggested　about　what　he　called　an
〃exploratory　puncture。〃　　This　I　at　once　declined；　with　thanks。
Suddenly　a　thought　struck　him。　　He　looked　still　more　closely　at　the
discoloration　I　have　spoken　of。

Looks　likeI　declare　it　reminds　me　ofvery　rare！　very　curious！
It　would　be　strange　if　my　first　caseof　this　kindshould　be　one　of
our　boarders！

What　kind　of　a　case　do　you　call　it？I　said；　with　a　sort　of　feeling
that　he　could　inflict　a　severe　or　a　light　malady　on　me；　as　if　he　were
a　judge　passing　sentence。

The　color　reminds　me；said　Dr。　B。　Franklin；of　what　I　have　seen
in　a　case　of　Addison's　Disease；　Morbus　Addisonii。

But　my　habits　are　quite　regular；I　said；　for　I　remembered　that　the
distinguished　essayist　was　too　fond　of　his　brandy　and　water；　and　I
confess　that　the　thought　was　not　pleasant　to　me　of　following　Dr。
Johnson's　advice；　with　the　slight　variation　of　giving　my　days　and　my
nights　to　trying　on　the　favorite　maladies　of　Addison。

Temperance　people　are　subject　to　it！exclaimed　Dr。　Benjamin；
almost　exultingly；　I　thought。

But　I　had　the　impression　that　the　author　of　the　Spectator　was
afflicted　with　a　dropsy；　or　some　such　inflated　malady；　to　which
persons　of　sedentary　and　bibacious　habits　are　liable。　　＇A　literary
swell；I　thought　to　myself；　but　I　did　not　say　it。　　I　felt　too
serious。＇

The　author　of　the　Spectator！cried　out　Dr。　Benjamin；I　mean　the
celebrated　Dr。　Addison；　inventor；　I　would　say　discoverer；　of　the
wonderful　new　disease　called　after　him。

…And　what　may　this　valuable　invention　or　discovery　consist　in？I
asked；　for　I　was　curious　to　know　the　nature　of　the　gift　which　this
benefactor　of　the　race　had　bestowed　upon　us。

A　most　interesting　affection；　and　rare；　too。　　Allow　me　to　look
closely　at　that　discoloration　once　more　for　a　moment。　　Cutis　cenea；
bronze　skin；　they　call　it　sometimesextraordinary　pigmentationa
little　more　to　the　light；　if　you　pleaseah！　now　I　get　the　bronze
coloring　admirably；　beautifully！　　Would　you　have　any　objection　to
showing　your　case　to　the　Societies　of　Medical　Improvement　and　Medical
Observation？

＇My　case！　　O　dear！＇　May　I　ask　if　any　vital　organ　is　commonly
involved　in　this　interesting　complaint？I　said；　faintly。

Well；　sir；the　young　Doctor　replied；there　is　an　organ　which　is
sometimesa　little　touched；　I　may　say；　a　very　curious　and　ingenious
little　organ　or　pair　of　organs。　　Did　you　ever　hear　of　the　Capsulae；
Suprarenales？

No；said　I；is　it　a　mortal　complaint？I　ought　to　have　known
better　than　to　ask　such　a　question；　but　I　was　getting　nervous　and
thinking　about　all　sorts　of　horrid　maladies　people　are　liable　to；
with　horrid　names　to　match。

It　is　n't　a　complaint；I　mean　they　are　not　a　complaint；they　are
two　small　organs；　as　I　said；　inside　of　you；　and　nobody　knows　what　is
the　use　of　them。　　The　most　curious　thing　is　that　when　anything　is　the
matter　with　them　you　turn　of　the　color　of　bronze。　　After　all；　I
didn