Michael Angelo Buonarroti | Page 5

know
what them symptoms means; they mean heart disease,
woman,--'cardiac failure,'--that's what 't is." Jason leaned back in his
chair and drew a long breath. When he could remember his
"book-learnin'" and give a high-sounding name to his complaint, his
gratification was enhanced.
"Hm-m; mebbe 't is, Jason," retorted his wife; "but I'm a-thinkin' that
when a man of your heft and years goes kitin' 'round a ten-acre lot at
the tail of a fly-away colt, he'll have all that kind of heart disease he
wants, an' still live ter die of somethin' else!" And Mehitable cheerfully
banged the oven door after making sure that her biscuits were not
getting too brown.
As it happened, however, there was really no chance for Jason's heart
disease to develop, for that night he scratched his finger, which brought
about the much more imminent danger of blood-poisoning--"toxemia,"
Jason said it was. For a time the whole household was upset, and
Mehitable was kept trotting from morning till night with sponges,
cloths, cotton, and bowls of curious-smelling liquids, while Jason
discoursed on antiseptics, germs, bacteria, microbes, and bacilli.
The finger was nearly well when he suddenly discovered that, after all,
the trouble might have been lock-jaw instead of blood-poisoning. He at
once began studying the subject so that he might be prepared should the
thing occur again. He was glad, later, that he had done so, for the
Fourth of July and a toy pistol brought all his recently acquired
knowledge into instant requisition.

"If it does come, it's 'most likely ter be fatal," he said excitedly to his
wife, who was calmly bathing a slight graze on his hand. "An' ye want
ter watch me," he added, catching up a book with his uninjured hand
and turning to a much-thumbed page for reference. "Now, listen. Thar's
diff'rent kinds of it. They're all 'te-ta-nus,' but ye got to watch out ter
find out which kind 't is. If I shut my jaws up tight, it's 'lock-jaw.' If I
bend backwards, it's 'o-pis-tho-to-nos.' If I bend forwards, it's
'em-pros-tho-to-nos'; an' if I bend ter one side, it's 'pleu-ro-tho-to-nos,'"
he explained, pronouncing the long words after a fashion of his own.
"Now, remember," he finished. "Like enough I shan't know enough ter
tell which kind 't is myself, nor which way I am a-leanin'."
"No, of course not, dear," agreed Mehitable cheerfully; "an' I'll
remember," she promised, as she trotted away with her salves and
bowls and bandages.
For some days Jason "tried" his jaw at regular intervals, coming to the
conclusion at last that fate once more was kind, and that "te-ta-nus" was
to pass him by.
The summer ended and autumn came. Jason was glad that the cold
weather was approaching. The heat had been trying. He had almost
suffered a sunstroke, and twice a mosquito bite had given him much
trouble--he had feared that he would die of malignant pustule. His relief
at the coming of cool weather was short-lived, however, for one of the
neighboring towns developed a smallpox scare, and as he discovered a
slight rash soon after passing through the place, he thought best to
submit to vaccination. He caught a bad cold, too, and was sure
pneumonia was setting in--that is, he would have been sure, only his
throat was so sore that he could not help thinking it might be
diphtheria.
Realizing the seriousness of the situation, and determining to settle
once for all the vexed question, he pored over his books in an
exhaustive search for symptoms. It was then that he rushed into the
presence of his wife one morning, his face drawn, his eyes wildly
staring, and an open book in his shaking hand.

"Hitty, Hitty," he cried; "jest listen ter this! How 'm I goin' ter tell what
ails me, I should like ter know, if I don't ache where I'm sick? Why,
Hitty, I can't never tell! Jest listen:
The location of pain is not always at the seat of disease. In hip disease
the pain is not first felt in the hip, but in the knee-joint. In chronic
inflammation of the liver the pain is generally most severe in the right
shoulder and arm.
"Only think, Hitty, 'In the right shoulder and arm'! Why, I had a pain
right in that spot only yesterday. So that's what I've got--'hip-disease'!
an'--oh, no," he broke off suddenly, consulting his book, "'t ain't
hip-disease when the shoulder aches--it's the liver, then."
"Well, well, Jason, I don't think I should fret," soothed Mehitable. "If
ye don't know, where's the diff'rence? Now I've got a pain right now in
my little toe. Like enough that means I 'm comin' down with the
mumps; eh?"
"Hitty!" Jason's voice was agonized. He had been paying no attention
to his wife's words,