ONCE flourished a famed Dr. Bluff.
A diamond ’twas said in the rough,
He spake nothing save what he meant
And cared little whither it went.
He groped not around in the dark
But directly he shot at the mark.
Prescriptions to cure did he give
in hopes that a patient might live.
And winced not at scruple or gall
Did his treatment the timid appal;
He brandished his surgical knife
As though he demanded your life
Or were fresh from a clinical strife.
But, if so apparently rude.
All knew him both skilfull and good.
Possessed of a sound heart and mind
With sense and with science combined.
Those ill oft applied for his care
As if he were more debonair,
Unallured by deportment or speech
Well assured the disease he could reach —
A practice they sought that could preach.
Mrs. Calamus long had employed
This healer and ne ‘er felt annoyed
When his phrase had less sugar than salt-
Always ready his worth to exalt.
More sensitive far was her lord
Whom gout had tight bound with its cord,
Though kind he was troubled with spleen
That often towards Mars would careen,
Yet afterwards all was serene.
He adored his most tractable wife,
The motive and prop of his life,
While no one who caused her a pain
Had courage to cause it again.
One day when confined to his bed
Of the slightest disturbance in dread.
He sent for his friend, Dr. Bluff,
To soothe him with sanative stuff.
The Doctor made haste to obey
Such a call without any delay —
And rode even out of his way.
Some drops did the healer prescribe.
Leaving word that the patient imbibe
The same at the mid hour of night
And when morn should awaken the light:
His wife was to give him each dose,
She only allowed to come close;
All others a terror would seize
Who approached when he writhed with disease.
Sleep, alas! did the watcher o’erpower.
While slipped unregarded the hour
When the patient his physic should take,
That torture his limbs might forsake.
The sufferer next day became worse
Through the nap unforeseen of his nurse.
The Doctor, returned to his post,
Found Calamus pale as a ghost
And shrewdly began to suspect
Why his potion was void of effect —
That ’twas caused by a woman’s neglect.
When convinced his suspicions were true.
At random wild epithets flew.
His anger was uttered aloud
As though it were launched at a crowd,
And she on whose head it was heaped
In heart-rending anguish was steeped:
It came like the rattle of hail
Or like a cyclonical gale;
Professional dignity mocked,
Reputation most sensitive shocked,
Took form in profaneness of speech
From the skilled though irascible leech.
While thus to his rage he gave vent
On the partner most innocent spent,
The husband uneasily lay
On his couch like a hound held at bay.
He groaned that he had not a chance
The Insulter to strike with a lance;
The physician with wrath so inflamed
That his own ebullition was shamed.
Like a lion aroused by his foe
He assayed for the Doctor to go,
A unicorn’s strength he received
As he sought to avenge the aggrieved.
He leaped from his bed to the floor
While the latter in fright sought the door.
But Calamus seized his coat-tail
And his biceps came down like a flail
Till at last cried ” enough, hold, enough! “
The defeated and crest-fallen Bluff.
Of Galen-traditions galore
None truer than this were of yore;
It was said that the Doctor brought low.
To anger in time became slow.
While far spread the tidings about —
Though somewhat heroic no doubt — He had found a new cure for the Gout.
By: Edward Octavus Flagg
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