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``An' it's not the rigulation to saloot with
yer left,'' said the Irishman, with a grin, while

the patients around us began to smile.
``How did it happen?'' said the surgeon.

``I was shot in the shoulder,'' answered the
patient, ``about three months ago, sir. I

haven't stirred it since.''
The surgeon looked at the scar.

``So recently?'' said he. ``The scar looks
older; and, by the way, doctor,''--to his

junior,--``it could not have gone near the
nerves. Bring the battery, orderly.''

In a few moments the surgeon was testing
one after another, the various muscles. At

last he stopped. ``Send this man away with
the next detachment. Not a word, my man.

You are a rascal, and a disgrace to honest
men who have been among bullets.''

The man muttered something, I did not
hear what.

``Put this man in the guard-house,'' cried
the surgeon, and so passed on without smile

or frown.
As to the ulcer case, to my amusement he

was put in bed, and his leg locked up in a
wooden splint, which effectually prevented

him from touching the part diseased. It
healed in ten days, and he too went as food

for powder.
The surgeon asked me a few questions, and

requesting to be sent for during my next fit,
left me alone.

I was, of course, on my guard, and took
care to have my attacks only during his

absence, or to have them over before he arrived.
At length, one morning, in spite of my care,

he chanced to enter the ward as I fell on the
floor. I was laid on the bed, apparently in

strong convulsions. Presently I felt a finger
on my eyelid, and as it was raised, saw the

surgeonstanding beside me. To escape his
scrutiny I became more violent in my

motions. He stopped a moment and looked at
me steadily. ``Poor fellow!'' said he, to my

great relief, as I felt at once that I had
successfully deceived him. Then he turned to

the ward doctor and remarked: ``Take care
he does not hurt his head against the bed;

and, by the by, doctor, do you remember the
test we applied in Carstairs's case? Just tickle

the soles of his feet and see if it will cause
those backward spasms of the head.''

The aid obeyed him, and, very naturally,
I jerked my head backward as hard as I

could.
``That will answer,'' said the surgeon, to

my horror. ``A clever rogue. Send him to
the guard-house.''

Happy had I been had my ill luck ended
here, but as I crossed the yard an officer

stopped me. To my disgust, it was the captain
of my old Rhode Island company.

``Hello!'' said he; ``keep that fellow safe.
I know him.''

To cut short a long story, I was tried,
convicted, and forced to refund the Rhode Island

bounty, for by ill luck they found my bank-
book among my papers. I was finally sent

to Fort Delaware and kept at hard labor,
handling and carrying shot, policing the

ground, picking up cigar-stumps, and other
light, unpleasant occupations.

When the war was over I was released. I
went at once to Boston, where I had about

four hundred dollars in bank. I spent nearly
all of this sum before I could satisfy the

accumulated cravings of a year and a half without
drink or tobacco, or a decent meal. I

was about to engage in a little business as a
vender of lottery policies when I first began

to feel a strange sense of lassitude, which
soon increased so as quite to disable me from

work of any kind. Month after month passed
away, while my money lessened, and this

terrible sense of weariness went on from
bad to worse. At last one day, after nearly

a year had elapsed, I perceived on my face a
large brown patch of color, in consequence

of which I went in some alarm to consult a
well-known physician. He asked me a multitude

of tiresome questions, and at last wrote
off a prescription, which I immediately read.

It was a preparation of arsenic.
``What do you think,'' said I, ``is the matter

with me, doctor?''
``I am afraid,'' said he, ``that you have a

very serious trouble--what we call Addison's
disease.''

``What's that?'' said I.
``I do not think you would comprehend

it,'' he replied; ``it is an affection of the
suprarenal capsules.''

I dimly remembered that there were such
organs, and that nobody knew what they

were meant for. It seemed that doctors had
found a use for them at last.

``Is it a dangerous disease?'' I said.
``I fear so,'' he answered.

``Don't you really know,'' I asked, ``what's
the truth about it?''

``Well,'' he returned gravely, ``I'm sorry
to tell you it is a very dangerous malady.''

``Nonsense!'' said I; ``I don't believe it'';
for I thought it was only a doctor's trick, and

one I had tried often enough myself.
``Thank you,'' said he; ``you are a very ill

man, and a fool besides. Good morning.''
He forgot to ask for a fee, and I did not

therefore find it necessary to escape payment
by telling him I was a doctor.

Several weeks went by; my money was
gone, my clothes were ragged, and, like my

body, nearly worn out, and now I am an
inmate of a hospital. To-day I feel weaker

than when I first began to write. How it
will end, I do not know. If I die, the doctor

will get this pleasant history, and if I live, I
shall burn it, and as soon as I get a little

money I will set out to look for my sister.
I dreamed about her last night. What I

dreamed was not very agreeable. I thought
it was night. I was walking up one of the

vilest streets near my old office, and a girl
spoke to me--a shameless, worn creature,

with great sad eyes. Suddenly she screamed,
``Brother, brother!'' and then remembering

what she had been, with her round, girlish,
innocent face and fair hair, and seeing what

she was now, I awoke and saw the dim light
of the half-darkened ward.

I am better to-day. Writing all this stuff
has amused me and, I think, done me good.

That was a horrid dream I had. I suppose I
must tear up all this biography.

``Hello, nurse! The little boy--boy--''
``GOOD HEAVENS!'' said the nurse, ``he is

dead! Dr. Alston said it would happen this
way. The screen, quick--the screen--and

let the doctor know.''
THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW

The following notes of my own
case have been declined on various

pretests by every medical
journal to which I have offered

them. There was, perhaps,
some reason in this, because many of the

medical facts which they record are not
altogether new, and because the psychical

deductions to which they have led me are not
in themselves of medical interest. I ought

to add that a great deal of what is here
related is not of any scientific value

whatsoever; but as one or two people on whose
judgment I rely have advised me to print

my narrative with all the personal details,
rather than in the dry shape in which, as a

psychological statement, I shall publish it
elsewhere, I have yielded to their views. I

suspect, however, that the very character of
my record will, in the eyes of some of my

readers, tend to lessen the value of the
metaphysical discoveries which it sets forth.

I am the son of a physician, still in large
practice, in the village of Abington, Scofield

County, Indiana. Expecting to act as his
future partner, I studied medicine in his

office, and in 1859 and 1860 attended lectures
at the Jefferson Medical College in Philadelphia.

My second course should have been in
the following year, but the outbreak of the

Rebellion so crippled my father's means that
I was forced to abandon my intention. The

demand for army surgeons at this time
became very great; and although not a graduate,

I found no difficulty in getting the place
of assistantsurgeon to the Tenth Indiana

Volunteers. In the subsequent Western
campaigns this organization suffered so

severely that before the term of its service
was over it was merged in the Twenty-first

Indiana Volunteers; and I, as an extra surgeon,
ranked by the medical officers of the latter

regiment, was transferred to the Fifteenth
Indiana Cavalry. Like many physicians, I

had contracted a strong taste for army life,
and, disliking cavalry service, sought and

obtained the position of first lieutenant in
the Seventy-ninth Indiana Volunteers, an

infantry regiment of excellent character.
On the day after I assumed command of

my company, which had no captain, we were


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