Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 October 1879 — THE WRONG PIG. [ARTICLE]

THE WRONG PIG.

Old; Dr. Johns lived in a small village of Honeyhurst, and for forty years he had been the sole physician in the district where he resided. No one cared to enter the lists against him in that locality, for the simple inhabitants fully believed that there was not such another master of the healing art in the known world, and so he drove his red-wheeled gig over the lanes and byways of the country side without a rival, and dared and bullied the inhabitants in his rough and kindly fashion to his heart’s content. The doctor lived in a great rambling house, half-way down the village street, with a wide expanse of lawn in front, and his little brick office in one corner next to the sidewalk. His wife had died many years ago, so his household was conducted by a housekeeper. But as the doctor’s family was small and he loved society, he was hardly ever without a student, to whom he taught the healing art in the back office. Thus it was Charlie Horton came to Honeyhurst to study medicine with the doctor, and, as his predecessor had done before him, occupied the back office and north west chamber. He came from a town somewhat distant, and was unknown to the town folks, and, like every stranger that came among them, was made the subject of much critical examination, as he walked up the broad aisle of the village church the Sunday evening after his arrival. “Well, doctor, how are you?” said farmer Smith, as he leaned over the gate of his cornfield, next morning, as the doctor came driving by. “Ah, Smith, how do you do?” replied he, as he drew rein on the gray mare and stopped. “How’s your folks?” “Toler’ble, thank’ee; wife’s a little ailin’this mornin’. See you’ve'got a new youug man; see’d him yesterday at church. Goin’ to make a doctor out o’him, eh?” "Yes, I think so,” replied the doctor “Think ye ain’t got the wrong pig by the ear, eh, doc tor?” said the farmer, "Well don’t know,” replied the village ..Esculapius; “can’t tell yet.” Now “getting the wrong pig by the ear” was one of the doctor’s great expressions, in fact his favorite one. Like Shakspeare’s justice, he was “full of wise saws and modem instances,” and had a proverb or apt quotation upon every occasion. With him, if a man made a mistake, it was “getting the wrong pig by the ear.” Of course this peculiarity was well known throughout all the country about where he practiced, and hence the quotation of Farmer Smith. Time passed on and Charles Horton became fully domesticated in the doctor’s household. He was a fine young fellow, somewhat over-confident, perhaps, and. needed the rein a little. This the doctor was not slow to put on, and he mingled his instructions in the healing art with admonitions about “getting the wrong pig by the ear,” Until Charles was heartily tired of the homely proverb. But be was a good fellow, nevertheless, and a great favorite.

Two years pastil away, and Charlie’s studies with the old doctor were drawing to a close, when suddenly the idea pop)>ed into his head that he would go to Paqs and finish his medical education with a coun-e through the Continental hospitals. Dr. Johns j*oohpoophed the idea and thought it utterly 4 “Wliy, boy,” said he, “what do you want to be gallivanting off to France for? What Lee have you got in yonr xianet now? Can’t you be satisfied with home learning, but must go and tack on some new-fangled foreign tomfoolery that will knock all your sensible knowledge out of your head? Go to Paris? Nonsense! Don’t get the wrong pig by the ear!” » But Charlie was not to be talked out &f his new idea. He was bound to go to Paris to htudy and see the world, and so one day he (lacked his trunks, bade his frieuds good hye, and, mounting the stage coach, was wheeled out of the village world. Bat before going, the old doctor called him into his office, and, shutting the door, thus began: “Now, Charlie, you are off to foreign • parts, and I hope you will enjoy yourself. Stick to your book* and get what knowledge you can out of those fellows over there, although I don’t suppose they know so much more than other people. But, never tlieless, you may learn a few things. I don’t suppose CPU be apt to go acting, as you have n too well brought up for that; and now I’ve got something here that I wan t you to take with you. It’e a recipe that it has taken me a good many years to find out. You will find it bf great value in your practice. It will cast you £5.” And the doctor, with a Very grave face, held out a huge yellow envelope sealed with red wax sad tied with a blue ribbon. Charlie was rather tifed'of ids long

winded harrangue, for Although he liked the doctor, he considered him something of an old fogy. But tbe offer of hus recipe excited his curiosity. What was it? So he paid the £6 and becarnty the happy- possessor of the huge envelope and its mysterious contents. ' . -■ 4 “Take good care of it, Charlie, and don’t open it until you are out of the Country.” A day or two after, when at his hotel at Folkstone waiting for the steamer, he bethought himself of the mystic recipe, and hastening to his room he locked the door and opened his valise. There it was, safe and sound, in. all its glory of yellow envelope, red seal and blue ribbon. Charlie took it out; turned it over. It was very- solemn and ponderous; a perfect panacea for all the evils that flesh is heir to. He turned it over and over, and finally untied the ribbon, and, breaking the seal, drew out a sheet of foolscap carefully folded. Takiug it to.the window, he read as follows: ‘ Don’t get the wrong pig by the ear. “Dr. Matthew Johns.” Dashing the paper to the floor, Charlie burst out: “The old swindler, to cheat me out or five pounds in that way: I’ll come up with him, though. See if I don’t pag him off.” So he contented hiraseir witli concoctiug a geneme for venge-

ance in secret. Three years passed away before Charlie Horton finished his studies and returned home. Meanwhile he had changed greatly, and from a smoothfaced strippling, with the merest suggestion of a moustache, he was now bearded like the pard, aud looked so different that his mother hardly knew him. But he had not forgotten Dr. Johns, nor his promised revenge. It was Saturday night when the stage coach set Charles Horton down at the ! door of the village inn at Honeyhurst. He gave a false name to the landlord, and smoked a cigar with him utter tupper, and inquired about the village, without that functionary ouce suspecting his idenity. lu the course - of the conversation Charlie asked: “who it was that lived in the large house with a front garden down the street?” “That’s Dr. Johns—been here a good many years; Clever man. I’ll introduce you to h(m, if you wish. The doctor ami 1 are pretty good friends.” “Well,” slowly replied Charlie, as if considering it, “he ought to know his danger, and It would be best to tell him. It may not be too late yet.” And on they started down the street, toward the doctor’s residence. “What did you say was his name?” asked Charlie, as they marched along. “Dr. Johns.” “Johns —Johns,” said Charlie, thoughtfully.. “I knew a fellow in Paris —Charlie Horton by name—who said he had studied with Dr. Johns, an old man, and somewhat of a character. I wonder if your doctor is the same man?” “To be sure he is,” replitd the innkeeper, “I knew Charlie Horton well. He went to France three or four years age. You know him, do ye? Is he there yet? The doctor will be doubly glad to see you if you bring news from Charlie. He though a great deal of him.” By this time they had reached the doctor’s office, and ue greeted the landlord heartUy, and lookiug inquiringly at the stranger. The landlord introduced Chkriie as Dr. Holmes, and added that be brought news from Charlie Horton. At this Dr. Johns was oveijoyed, urged the pseudo Holmes to come in, and inquired affectionately .about his old pufil. Conversation was carried on for an hour, when Charlie, looking the doctor earnest in the face, said: “Dr. Johns, how is your health now?” “First rate, sir—first rate. Never felt better in my life!” and he certaiuly looked it. “You don’t find old age creeping oa, do you, sir?” blandly inquired Charlie, .hut still looking very intently into the “Well, a little stiffish in the joints now and then; but—bless you, sir—l can ride ,as many miles aud as many hours as I ever could.”

“Doctor Johns,” said Charlie, very impressively, “do you ever meet in your practice people who look and feel the perfect embodiment of health, and yet whose constitutions are being sapped by a fatal disease and they not conscious of it?” “Well, yes, I have met such cases,” replied the doctor. “And did you,fever apply them to yourself, sir?” asked Charlie in solemn tones. “Why, Dr. Holmes, what do you mean?* Do you think that my constitution is undermined by a secret disease? Nonsense, man!” and be laughed outright. Then Charlie began. He told the old doctor all that he had told the land-* lord, and much more. How he had many such cases. He knew the doctor felt his age, and he cleverly used those symptoms, twisting them about,showing that it was not age, and in two hours’ time the doctor was so thoroughly frightened that he believed his end liable to occur at any moment, and besought “Dr. Holmes” to do whatever lay in his power to give him relief. Dr. Holmes promised to think it over during the night. Dr. Johns would not hear of his returning to the inn, but insisted upon bis taking a bed at his house. Charlie, with a grave face,finally consented: but before going to bed he advised the doctor to take an “anodyne,” assured him that there was no immediate danger, and cleverly managed to slip an emetic into the doctor’s glass of rum and water, which he always took before retiring, and had done so with great regularity for thirty years. About the middle of the night the old housekeeper called Charlie up in

great haste and terror. Dr. Johns was very sick, and had asked her to call Dr. Holmes as soon as possible. Charlie went to tbe bedroom and found him tossing around and groaning at a great rate. He felt now he bad an attack of the disease mentioned by Charlie, and besought him to do what he could spfeeduy. Charlie made an examination, looked grave, and shook his head.. ’‘Bad, is it, Dr, Holmes?” asked Johns, faintly; ~t ell me the -worst, sir.” « “It is a bad case, Dr. Johns,” said Charlie. “I can only do one thing, and that is a costly one. I can give you a prescription, but it will cost you £2O.

I am obliged to aifribat for it, as I obtained it under peculiar circumstances. It may give you relief. I hgve seen it used with very good results.” “Twenty pounds?” asked the old doctor, -eagerly. “All right; I willJgive it, sir. Wliat is the prescription? Here is the money.” Charlie wrote on a slip of £%per, folded it up and banded it to. the-noc-tor. Heireceived, It eagerly, opened it with trembling hands, and, by the light of thfc bed room lamp, read: ' “Doh’t get the wrong pig by the ear. “Dr. Charles HORTON.” With one bound the doctor v is out of bed, but “Dr. Horton” baa vanished. “Charlie,” said Dr. Johns, next day, “I’m getting old; you must come and take my practice. Your twenty pounds will help to,give you a start.” The doctor says he never got the “wrong pig” but ouce.