CHAPTER LXXXIV.

MEASLES WITHOUT SNAKEROOT AND SAFFRON.

In the early part of the year 1854, measles prevailed considerably, and was rather severe even under the most favorable circumstances. In our cities, such as New York and Boston, it destroyed a great number of valuable lives. It was by no means confined to children; it attacked adults, who had hitherto escaped it, as well as children.

One of my most intimate female friends, who was over forty years of age, had often been exposed to it without taking it, and had begun to hope she should escape through life. The family to which she belonged had it, and in the end a blow fell on her. It alarmed her most fearfully. She declared, again and again, that she should not and could not survive it, and her fears greatly aggravated the severity of her symptoms.

She was well acquainted with the most enlightened views on the subject of disease, and though her fears were great, she endeavored to pursue the proper course at first, which, as she knew, consisted mainly in supporting her strength as much as possible, in the most appropriate and healthful ways. She had no thought, it would seem, of taking medicine.

But she had neighbors,--some of them of the gossiping kind,--who called on her frequently, to convince her of the necessity of _taking something to bring out the measles_, and to relate the pitiful story of Mr. and Mrs. Such-an-one, who perished because they would do nothing to save themselves, and to entreat her to take at least a little saffron and snakeroot tea. And they had some influence with her; not indeed at first, but after she became weakened by the disease. Drowning people, it is said, catch at straws.

I was called to see her late one Saturday evening. She did not know, as she said, that any medicine was needed, but as she was considerably advanced in life, and many had sunk under the disease of late, and as she had such a continual feeling of depression and fainting, she thought it barely possible I might think it advisable to give her some little thing to make her feel more comfortable.

There were indeed many things that required attention. Her feet were cold, unnecessarily so, and her room was not properly ventilated. Then she needed small draughts of water much oftener than she had been accustomed to receive them, or had dared to venture in their use. She needed no snakeroot and saffron, nor indeed any other form of herb tea. I gave particular orders with regard to the little things so needful in such cases, and in order to be on hand in case of alarm, I remained in the house till morning.

More than once during the night, her courage nearly failed her, and I was summoned to her bedside. In one or two instances, she ventured to complain of me as neglectful of her case, because I gave her no medicine. But I cheered and encouraged her as well as I could. Her disease had made her a child, and she needed a child's treatment. I was not, indeed, without my fears, but I did not see how her condition could be alleviated by medicinal agents, unless they become necessary as a substitute for that faith in Nature, which she was accustomed to exercise when she had more strength. This faith, as I have already told you, did indeed sometimes fall a little below the proper standard, but the depression was in general but momentary.

Early in the morning a near neighbor called, and kindly inquired how she did; and when assured that she was, as yet, no better, was unable longer to repress her feelings. "Why, in the case of _my_ children," said she, "the measles never came out without giving them something, and they never would have done so to this day." Yet she had a large family. I might have asked her how she knew what Nature _could_ have done unaided, since she gave her no opportunity to test her strength; but she was too ignorant to converse with on such subjects. To have asked her how she knew whether her children got well in spite of the medicine they took, or on account of it, would have been but throwing pearls before swine, and I would not do it.

It was very soon reported, all over the neighborhood, that Mrs. O. was in a very dangerous condition, and if she did not have some other doctor, would soon die. And, what was worst of all, the stories got back to Mrs. O. herself. And now came the tug of war; and had not the eruption, just at this time made its appearance, I do not know what the results might have been.

Before noon, however, of this day (Sunday), every thing went right, and Mrs. O. was as blooming as she had been before pale and disconsolate. My good friend who had given me the morning homily, did not again make her appearance, and the neighbors in general who had dealt out their jeremiades so freely, kept themselves at a very respectful distance.

The recovery was as rapid as could have been expected, even in the most vigorous young person. Nor was there any after-trouble, to require physic, or eye-water, or remedies for the dropsy. And,--what added to my own surprise, if not to that of the neighbors in general,--though she was a feeble woman, constitutionally, she recovered with as much rapidity as the most healthy and robust, and as well, to say the least, as if she had taken "_snakeroot and saffron_."