PAGE 3
Flushed With Wine
by
“‘There is no apparent injury here,’ I at length said, after examining the arms and chest. ‘She is probably only stunned by the concussion.’
“‘But she could not stand on her feet when first lifted after the fall, and fainted immediately upon attempting to sustain her own weight,’ Mr. Camper replied.
“I then made further examination, and found sad indications of her fall, in a fractured patella. The knee was, however, so swollen, that I could not ascertain the nature, nor extent of the fracture.
“‘What do you find the matter there, doctor?’ Mr. Camper asked, after I had finished my examination.
“‘A very serious injury, sir, I am sorry to say,’ was my reply.
“‘Of what nature?’ was his somewhat stern inquiry.
“‘Her knee-pan is fractured, sir; but so much swollen, that I cannot, now, fully ascertain the extent of the injury.'”
“Henry!” cried the old man in a quick, eager tone to an attendant, “go again for doctor L–; and if he is not in, go for doctor R–; and if you cannot find him, call on doctor T–, and ask him to come instantly.”
The attendant hurriedly departed, when Mr. Camper turned slowly towards me, with a mingled expression of anger, pain, and contempt, upon his face, and said, in a stern voice,
“‘Go home young man! and quit drinking wine, or quit the profession! You are in no fit state to undertake a case like this.’
“It came upon me like a peal of thunder from an unclouded summer sky. It was the knell of newly-awakened hopes–the darkening of newly-opening prospects. Silently I turned away under the cutting rebuke, and left the house.”
“Really, that was most unfortunate!” his friend Everett remarked, with earnest sympathy.
“Could anything have been more unfortunate, or more mortifying. Her case was one that I fully understood; and could have treated successfully. It would have brought me into contact with the family for six months, or more, and the eclat which I should have derived from the case, would have given me a prominence as a young surgeon, that I am afraid the fact of my losing the case under such mortifying circumstances, will prevent me ever attaining in this city.”
“Really, Harvey, I do feel exceedingly pained at what you have told me. Confound this wine! I believe it does more harm than good.”
“Too free an indulgence of it does, no doubt. Our error has lain in this. We must be more prudent in future.”
“Suppose we swear off for ever from touching it.”
“No, I will not do that. Wine is good in its place, and I shall continue to use it, but more moderately. A physician never knows the moment he may be called upon, and should, therefore, always be in a state to exercise a clear head and a steady hand.”
“Certainly, we have both of us had lessons not soon to be forgotten,” was the reply; and then the two young men separated.
Two weeks from the day this conversation took place, doctor Lane and his friend James Everett met at a supper-party, where all kinds of liquors were introduced, and every kind of inducement held out for the company to drink freely. Both of the young men soon forgot their resolutions to be guarded in respect to the use of wine. As the first few glasses began to take effect, in an elevation of spirits, each felt a kind of pride in the thought that he could bear as much as any one there, and not show signs of intoxication.
By eleven o’clock, there was not one at the table who was not drunk enough to be foolish. The rational and intelligent conversation that had been introduced early in the evening, had long since given place to the obscene jest–the vulgar story–or the bacchanalian song. Gayest of the gay were our young men, who had already, one would think, received sufficient lessons of prudence and temperance.
“Take care, James!” cried Lane, across the table to his friend Everett, familiarly, late in the evening. “You are pouring the wine on the table, instead of in your glass.”