CHAPTER XXII. SUITING MEANS TO ENDS.

The early frosts had now commenced. The glory of summer was succeeded by the maturity of autumn, and in the valleys here and there the white maples and ash began to assume their yellow and crimson hues. The diseases incident to the period of the year were prevalent, and Dr. Ryan was riding night and day.

As Richardson was passing the doctor's house on his way from school in the afternoon, the latter called to him, and said,—

"Mr. Richardson, I wish you would do me a favor. I am just about to step into my gig to visit a person taken with the bilious colic, in great distress, and a man has this moment gone from the door who wants me to go to see Mr. Jonathan Davis, who has cut off the tendon Achillis (heel-cord) with an adze; a clean cut. Can't you get on the back of the other horse, and take care of Mr. Davis?"

"Yes, sir. I'll leave my books in your office, and be right off."

[Pg 245]

"But you'll want some supper."

"I'll eat there after I get through."

Davis kept a good stock of tools, made his wheels, harrows, yokes, and other farming tools, and some for his neighbors. In working with an adze between his feet, the instrument glanced, and the corner of it severed the tendon of his left leg.

The Achillis tendon is large, and connected with a very strong muscle, as it sustains a great strain when the foot is thrown forward, and the weight of the body, perhaps with the addition of some burden on the shoulder, raised by it; and when broken or cut, the strong muscles of which it is a prolongation, cause it to contract very much.

Farmer Davis was a member of the choir, much attached to Rich; and, though he was somewhat disappointed at not seeing Dr. Ryan, his old physician, yet there was probably not a person in the town to whom Rich could have been sent upon such an errand where he would have found less of prejudice to contend with, either in respect to his youth, lack of experience, or any new-fangled notions he might have the reputation of entertaining.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Davis. I am sorry for your injury, and also that Dr. Ryan could not come. I expect you will hardly care to see so poor a substitute; but I feared there might be some artery cut, and knew you needed prompt attention."

[Pg 246]

Farmer Davis was quite a different person from Miss Buckminster in many other respects besides gender, being a most skilful mechanic, and an intelligent, clear-headed man.

"Well, Mr. Richardson," he replied, "you know very well you're as welcome to my house as flowers in May; and as for this business of the leg, I don't believe that Dr. Ryan, who's doctored my family and my father's afore me, would have sent you if he hadn't known you was capable; and if he had, I don't believe, if you hadn't thought you knew what was to be done and how to do it, you'd have come."

"I have come to do the best I can, which is very little, as this is a case where art can do but little to assist nature; but if you feel any hesitation, say so; the horse is at the door; I'll go get Dr. Slaughter."

"Won't have him; he's no better than a butcher. Go ahead, Mr. Richardson. There must be a first time with every man. I believe the first pair of wheels I ever made were as good and well finished up as any I've made since, 'cause I took more pains; and I've heern old Captain Deering say that 'a green hand that's just learning to steer a vessel will oftentimes steer better'n an old sailor, 'cause the old fellow is careless; but t'other's scared to death all the time, and puts his whole soul into it.'"

After examining the wound, Rich said,—

[Pg 247]

"There are two methods of treating this injury, the old method and the new. I will explain both of them; you may then take your choice, and I will follow your directions."

"That's fair. Let's hear."

"You see all the tendons play in a sheath, which is fixed, and the tendons play back and forth in it."

"Just like a spyglass, one part shoves into the other."

"Yes. And they are all on the stretch, like a piece of rubber drawn out, and when they are cut, the contraction of the muscles draws the two ends apart. The muscles in the upper part of the leg have drawn one end of this heel-cord up into its sheath, and the muscles on the forward part of the leg, by bending the foot back, have drawn the other end down into its sheath. Now, the old method, that which Dr. Slaughter and Dr. Ryan both would pursue, is to search in the sheath, get hold of the ends of the cord, and sew them together, which in your case would involve the necessity of cutting to accomplish it."

"I understand that. Now what is the new fashion?"

"The old physicians thought a tendon could not unite unless the ends touched, and so used to sew them together. But it has been since proved by experiment that although it is well to bring the ends of the tendon as near to each other as can well[Pg 248] be done, they will unite even if they are half an inch or an inch apart."

"How can they grow together if they don't touch?"

"A liquid substance exudes from the surrounding vessels, fills the sheath, thickens into a jelly, then becomes a callous, grows to the two ends, forms a bunch, and in time shrinks up and becomes just like the rest of the tendon."

"How did they find that out?"

"Men have broken the tendon and wouldn't have their leg cut open to stitch the ends together, but kept still, had splints put on, and the ends brought as near as possible in that way, got well, and recovered the use of the limb. If there's no need of cutting a hole in a sound leg to sew a tendon together, there's no need of sewing one when a hole is already cut, or of cutting it larger to get at it."

"That stands to reason. So go ahead. I don't see why there shouldn't be improvements in doctoring as well as in everything else. My father winnowed his grain in a half a bushel, and had to wait for the wind. I winnow mine when I get ready, and raise my own wind with the machine."

Rich bent the leg on the thigh, so as to relax the muscles in the calf of the leg as much as possible, then with his hands worked down the calf, bringing the upper end of the tendon down, and put a bandage around to confine the muscles and keep them from retracting; brought the foot forward[Pg 249] in order to bring the lower end of the tendon up, and employed an assistant to keep it so.

In the mean time he went into Mr. Davis's shop, where he found tools, selected a sweeping piece of wood, and in a very few moments made a splint of sufficient length to extend from just below the knee to the toes, and that by its elliptical form partially filled the angle made by the foot and leg; he then padded the space between it and the flesh, fastened it to the leg and toes in such a manner as to keep the foot extended and prevent the patient from involuntarily moving the muscles. He now could feel the ends of the tendon, and ascertained, much to his satisfaction, that they were very nearly in contact. He now said,—

"Mr. Davis, the space between the extremities of this tendon is very small, consequently there is so much less new matter to be formed. You will not suffer much pain, but you will sustain a great trial of your patience, more than though your leg was broken, for then you would feel compelled to lie still. The rapidity and thoroughness of your cure will be in proportion to the patience you exercise, and the degree of care you take in respect to those motions absolutely necessary. It will be six weeks or more before this new substance I have been speaking of will form between the ends, and many months before you can place much strain upon the tendon."

[Pg 250]

"Shall I have to lie in bed long?"

"No; but you must keep perfectly still for a while. You will not be able to wear this splint long. It is only extemporized for the occasion. I'll make something better to-morrow."

The second day, after school hours, Richardson visited his patient again, and directed Mrs. Davis to make a shoe of carpeting, slipper-fashion, leaving the toe a little open, to prevent galling, and sewing a strap to the heel of it. This he fastened to a bandage around the leg above the calf, which took the place of the splint, kept the heel back, the foot forward, and the ends of the tendon in their place, and was much more comfortable for the patient.

Farmer Davis in eight weeks was relieved from the slipper, strap, and bandage during the night, putting them on in the daytime, and began to walk with a cane. There was a bunch on the tendon the size of a robin's egg, which gradually disappeared; and in four months the limb was as serviceable as ever.

When, a fortnight after the event, Dr. Ryan ascertained that Rich had merely brought the ends of the tendon within half an inch, and let it go at that, he shook his head, looked anxious, but said nothing. Dr. Slaughter was not so reticent, and declared the parts would never unite, but grow to the sheath, and the man be lame for life.

Richardson now pursued the even tenor of his[Pg 251] way, without the least interruption till the middle of the winter, when he was called to old Mr. Avery, a shingle weaver, who had cut himself with his draw-shave. The wound bled a great deal before Richardson arrived, and the patient being an old man, it healed very slowly. Avery became impatient, and thought his physician was not doing enough. Rich, unable to convince him, as he was a very ignorant and obstinate man, that the process of healing must necessarily be slow, on account of his age, and that nature must do the work, called in Dr. Ryan, who confirmed the judgment of Rich and approved his method, but the patient not convinced, fussed and fretted, said Rich "was doing nothing," and talked about "sending for Dr. Slaughter." Rich, at his wits' end, and not relishing the idea of having a patient taken out of his hands, cast about for some way of keeping him quiet.

At length, in a wakeful hour of the night, he bethought himself of a means of relief, suggested by something he had read in one of the old romances while in college, and the next day proceeded to put it in practice.

"Mr. Avery," he said, "I think I have discovered something that will be just the thing you need, and answer the purpose completely."

"Do let me know it, then, right off. I ought to be at work in the shop this minute."

"Do you think the draw-shave that you cut[Pg 252] yourself with has been used since? Because if it has, nothing can be done, and the charm will be broken."

"No, I know it 'tain't; 'cause I laid it across the horse, and the shop's been locked up ever sence. Then you can charm; that's something like. There was a woman in this town could charm; but she died four year ago; and she didn't give her power to anybody. They say they kin, if they like, give it to anybody else, that is, if they're a seventh son or darter, not without."

"You don't believe that nonsense, I hope."

"Sartain sure I do. I know that woman could charm. But you doctors never believe anything you don't do yourselves, or don't read in a book; but that's nuther here nor there. What is it you've found out?"

"Well, Mr. Avery, the ancient wise folks, a great many hundred years ago, had a custom of applying the rust of the weapon or tool that made the wound to it; or, if there was no rust, of making the applications to the instrument; and by some secret, mysterious influence, as they held, the wound was healed."

"There, now, that stan's to reason. You've said somethin' to the p'int now. I believe in them ere things what's handed down from the old forefathers. I tell you they forgot more'n we ever knew. These things what's handed down, they're sperience, they ain't guesswork. The[Pg 253] Indians can cure cancers, but the white doctors can't. Mercy Jane, you git the key out of my westcoat pocket, and bring in that ere draw-shave; it's laying across the horse."

When the draw-shave was brought; to the great satisfaction both of Rich and his patient, considerable rust was found on the edge. Avery had ground it the afternoon he cut himself, and only drawn a few strokes before he inflicted the wound, and the water from the grinding, still on the edge, caused it, after lying, to rust. Rich, carefully scraping the rust from the tool (about enough to cover the point of a penknife), applied it to the wound. He next produced several large plasters of different colors, red, black, green, blue, and yellow.

"What are them plasters spread with?" said the patient.

"Indeed, Mr. Avery, that is an affair of my own."

"I'll warrant it. That's allers the way with doctors."

"Neither will I apply it, or go one step farther, unless you will solemnly promise me that you will observe strictly my directions as to diet, and stay in your bed or your chair, and keep the limb still."

"Well, I will, I sartainly will. I'll do jist zactly as you tell me to."

"See that you don't forget it the moment I am out of the room; if you do, it will be the worse for[Pg 254] you, that's all, for those are plasters of tremendous power, and if you do not, you will have something horribilis, aspectu horridus, detestabilis, abominandus."

Rich held up his hands in horror and made an awful face. They were indeed of tremendous power, and had they been applied to his flesh instead of to the draw-shave, would soon have put him beyond the cares and trials of this stormy life. One, the green, was made of hog's lard, beef tallow, and verdigris; the blue, of beeswax, linseed oil, and Prussian blue; the black, of the same materials, colored with lampblack; the red, with vermilion, a mercurial compound, quicksilver, and sulphur; and the yellow with gamboge. Rich now produced several large rolls of bandages, and, after strewing the plasters with brick dust, applied them to the knife, and then enveloped the whole in fold over fold of the bandage, till the knife was as large as a man's thigh.

"Now," he said to Mrs. Avery, "this must be put where no rat, mouse, cat, or any other creature can get at it."

"I'm sure," said she, "I don't know of any safer place than the oven. We've got two; and one I don't use often."

"Well, put it in the oven."

After Rich left, Avery said,—

"Wife, Mr. Richardson knows a lot; he'll make a great doctor."

[Pg 255]

"I expect he will. But, husband, you must keep still, and do jist as he told you, and mustn't hanker after pork and beans. You know what he said—'if you didn't, it would be worser for you.' And what them awful outlandish words meant I don't know; but I expect they meant you'd die right off if you didn't do everything jist as he said."

"Well, I mean to keep as still as a mouse. You must tell me when I don't."

When Rich again visited his patient, he said,—

"Mr. Avery, there has been a very marked improvement in your leg, and it will soon be well, if you continue to follow implicitly my directions."

"I knew that would do the business. It begun to feel better the minute you put them ere plasters on to the draw-shave."

In a short time it was well; and, lest our young readers should attribute the cure to the wrong means, we would say that, Mr. Avery being in years, his flesh healed slowly, and, as he was of a nervous temperament, kept irritating his wound all the time by motion, and refused to govern his appetite. This conduct aggravated the difficulty. Whereas his faith in the strange remedy appealing to the superstitious sentiments of his nature, and fear of the terrible consequences couched under the Latin of Rich, kept him quiet, and effected the cure by giving nature time to operate.

[Pg 256]

Rich had now accumulated a little money, and resolved to visit his patients, attend medical lectures at Brunswick, and see Morton on his way. He accordingly employed Perk to finish out the term, as part of the period of his absence would be during the vacation. As his funds were by no means excessive, he made the journey on foot, with the exception of a few miles of the first part of the way, over which he was carried by Dan Clemens.

It was near night on the second day, and Rich, weary, hungry, and foot-sore, had been for some time expecting to come in sight of a village where was a tavern; but none appeared. At length his patience was exhausted, and arriving at a substantial-looking farm-house, he knocked, and inquired of the farmer, who came at the summons, how far it was to the next tavern.

"Well, 'tis good three miles; yes, strong that." But noticing the disappointed look of Rich, said, "Young man, you look tired. If you'll stop with me, you shall be welcome to such as we have."

Rich gladly accepted the invitation, and was ushered into the kitchen, where he found the farmer's family, consisting of his wife, two sons, and two daughters. One of the daughters immediately rose, pulled the table into the floor, put on the tea-kettle, and, as Rich thought (who was very[Pg 257] hungry, for he had eaten since morning only a luncheon), provided a meal about as speedily as he had ever seen it done in his life.

"My mother," thought he, "couldn't do better than that."

Rich was at first surprised that neither the mother nor elder sister gave any assistance to this young woman in preparing an extra meal, but continued their sewing. He afterwards, however, ascertained that the thrifty mother brought up her daughters to take their week around in the kitchen doing the cooking; and that it was this daughter's week. After making ready for Rich, she began to iron at a table in the corner of the room, and when he finished, cleared away the dishes, and resumed her ironing. He was very much struck with the domestic accomplishments of the young woman, and thought her extremely good-looking; but this might be owing to the fact, that, being very hungry, he felt grateful for a bountiful meal so speedily provided; his habits of thought as a physician also led him to notice that she was well-formed and in fine health.

His boots off, seated before a cheerful fire, and well fed, Rich forgot his fatigue, and passed a most pleasant evening. He endeavored several times to draw into conversation Miss Caroline; but she stuck to her ironing, and merely replied to his questions politely.

At bed-time he said to the farmer,—

[Pg 258]

"Mr. Conant, I will settle with you before I go to bed, as I mean to start by sunrise."

"But you will not start on a day's walk without breakfast."

"I will get my breakfast at the next village. That will divide the forenoon about right; and after walking three miles I shall be 'sharp set' for eating."

"Mr. Richardson, I can contrive better than that. I shan't take a cent for your keeping, and William will put the horse in the sleigh and take you to the village. He was going to start early to carry something to market there. You will have your breakfast, and be well started on your journey, and when you come back, make it in your way to call here. We shall be right pleased to see you. I'll give you a lift on your way."

The next morning Rich was up by break of day, and found that William had harnessed the horse, and Caroline had the breakfast ready. He now found her rather less reserved, and went away with a most favorable impression of her intelligence.

After a very delightful visit at home, where he found everything pleasant and prosperous, his parents on the original homestead, with every prospect of soon owning it, seeing Morton and enjoying a glorious time with him, by some singular combination of circumstances he was again overtaken by night at farmer Conant's door when[Pg 259] it never looked more like a storm, which indeed came that night, and Rich was obliged to stay there two days, which, however, passed very pleasantly.