Round The Red Lamp | Page 5

above all that."
We made him president of our branch of the British Medical
Association, but he resigned after the first meeting. "The young men
are too much for me," he said. "I don't understand what they are talking
about." Yet his patients do very well. He has the healing touch--that
magnetic thing which defies explanation or analysis, but which is a
very evident fact none the less. His mere presence leaves the patient
with more hopefulness and vitality. The sight of disease affects him as
dust does a careful housewife. It makes him angry and impatient. "Tut,
tut, this will never do!" he cries, as he takes over a new case. He would
shoo Death out of the room as though he were an intrusive hen. But
when the intruder refuses to be dislodged, when the blood moves more
slowly and the eyes grow dimmer, then it is that Dr. Winter is of more
avail than all the drugs in his surgery. Dying folk cling to his hand as if
the presence of his bulk and vigour gives them more courage to face the
change; and that kindly, windbeaten face has been the last earthly
impression which many a sufferer has carried into the unknown.

When Dr. Patterson and I--both of us young, energetic, and
up-to-date--settled in the district, we were most cordially received by
the old doctor, who would have been only too happy to be relieved of
some of his patients. The patients themselves, however, followed their
own inclinations--which is a reprehensible way that patients have--so
that we remained neglected, with our modern instruments and our latest
alkaloids, while he was serving out senna and calomel to all the
countryside. We both of us loved the old fellow, but at the same time,
in the privacy of our own intimate conversations, we could not help
commenting upon this deplorable lack of judgment. "It's all very well
for the poorer people," said Patterson. "But after all the educated
classes have a right to expect that their medical man will know the
difference between a mitral murmur and a bronchitic rale. It's the
judicial frame of mind, not the sympathetic, which is the essential one."
I thoroughly agreed with Patterson in what he said. It happened,
however, that very shortly afterwards the epidemic of influenza broke
out, and we were all worked to death. One morning I met Patterson on
my round, and found him looking rather pale and fagged out. He made
the same remark about me. I was, in fact, feeling far from well, and I
lay upon the sofa all the afternoon with a splitting headache and pains
in every joint. As evening closed in, I could no longer disguise the fact
that the scourge was upon me, and I felt that I should have medical
advice without delay. It was of Patterson, naturally, that I thought, but
somehow the idea of him had suddenly become repugnant to me. I
thought of his cold, critical attitude, of his endless questions, of his
tests and his tappings. I wanted something more soothing--something
more genial.
"Mrs. Hudson," said I to my housekeeper, would you kindly run along
to old Dr. Winter and tell him that I should be obliged to him if he
would step round?"
She was back with an answer presently. "Dr. Winter will come round in
an hour or so, sir; but he has just been called in to attend Dr. Patterson."

HIS FIRST OPERATION.
It was the first day of the winter session, and the third year's man was
walking with the first year's man. Twelve o'clock was just booming out
from the Tron Church.
"Let me see," said the third year's man. "You have never seen an
operation?"
"Never."
"Then this way, please. This is Rutherford's historic bar. A glass of
sherry, please, for this gentleman. You are rather sensitive, are you
not?"
"My nerves are not very strong, I am afraid."
"Hum! Another glass of sherry for this gentleman. We are going to an
operation now, you know."
The novice squared his shoulders and made a gallant attempt to look
unconcerned.
"Nothing very bad--eh?"
"Well, yes--pretty bad."
"An--an amputation?"
"No; it's a bigger affair than that."
"I think--I think they must be expecting me at home."
"There's no sense in funking. If you don't go to-day, you must
to-morrow. Better get it over at once. Feel pretty fit?"
"Oh, yes; all right!" The smile was not a success.
"One more glass of sherry, then. Now come on or we shall be late. I

want you to be well in front."
"Surely that is not necessary."
"Oh, it is far better! What a drove of students! There are plenty of new
men among them. You can tell them easily enough, can't you? If they
were going