FEMININE CHIT CHAT.

Otago Witness, Issue 1148, 29 November 1873, Page 4

FEMININE CHIT CHAT.

My Dear Emily — I Bhould have written to you before, as I have so much to tell you, but you must excuse me, as we have been so busy lately, and I have had so little time. However, not to waste any more, I must tell you that about a fortnight ago Mrs Smith's three little girls were invited up to town to spend a few weeks with their aunt, and as there was a good deal to do getting their things ready, &c, the party was put off for a week, and only came off last Thursday, the day before the concert. Well, dear, just as I was thinking how fortunate it was that the little girls would be out of the way at the time of the party, word came over from Mrs Smith for mamma to let Teddy and Frank over the very day it was on, to spend a week or so. Did you ever hear anything so foolish ? I knew how it would be, that I should nearly be worried to death with them, and so I was as you shall hear. The day came at last, after a great deal of expectancy on the part of the two little boys especially, and as the dray was going up to the station in the morning, passing Mrs Smith's on the way, it was to take them over, and leave them there, along with some chairs, tumblers, knives and forks, &c. I should have gone in it myself, only there wasn't an inch of room. As it was, Frank was set on the top of a lot of wool bales, with my dress on his knee, which he took care of after a fashion ; and Teddy was stuck for safety between a trunk and three chairs. After they had gone, I weeded some of my garden, then dug a bit ; but oh, dear ! there were such a lot of worms, and I halved so many that at last I was obliged to stop, and went into the bush to look for nests, getting terribly scratched for my pains, yet never seeing the vestige of an egg. As I came out I was nearly frightened to death by a goose that mamma had set in an old stump in a dark place, and that I caught hold of, wondering in the dim light what it was. Oh dear ! how it hissed j and what a fright I got. Puppy, that I need not tell you is always at my heels, doing his best to add to the noise and confusion. After we had dinner I got dressed, and waited with some impatience for Lottie and Mortimer, who came about five o'clock — far later, as usual, than they said they would. Well, after we had tea, and my horse had been saddled, I don't know how it was, but I began to feel so nervous ; I can't tell^you how dreadfully high it; looked ; and I couldn't help thinking of the distance I should have to go before 111 1 got to the ground if it threw me off. At I last I begged them to let me have a ride round the paddock just once by way of trial before we started. They consented ; and after a deal of pushing up on ;fcheir part, and slipping down and scrambling up again on mine, I got on, and the horse started — Mortimer holding the reins and running beside it. However, I got more courageous by the time we had got half round, and told him to let go, which he did very thankfully, I am sure, for his hat had blown off, and he was looking very hot indeed. For a little while the horse went along splendidly, at a nice easy canter, and I was just beginning to think how nice it was, when suddenly it stopped, and began to trot. Now, you know, dear, I can't trot a bit ; and so I sat jog, jogging up and down in the saddle till I thought every bone in my body would be broken, or I should be thrown off and killed. Lottie, knowing my great objection to trotting, and seeing I had nothing to

make the horse pin? S*^^£2?l up behind and gave it a smash ,7* th * c o rw £ et mallet, and oh, Emily, off it went a* TOC * a tremendous rate, tugging bo hard at * ne reina, that I was obliged to let them go. 0b» what a long neck it had, and how it stretched it out. On I went, holding on by its pummel and mane, with Lottie and Mortimer running and shrieking something behind me, though what they said I could no more make out than I could fly. At last the horse came to a gully, where there were a lot of treeß, and if the dreadful beast didn't run right close up to one and knock me up against it, and »end me over — not the side the habit is on, dear, but the other : right over head and heels I went, as sure as I'm writing to you. I can't imagine how I wasn't killed ; the horse stood quite still then, as so well it might, and I got up, none the worse for the tumble, bttt determining that 1 should never get onu horde in my life again. And then Lottie and Mortimer came rushing round, very much frightened indeed, for they said they had seen the skirt of my habit above the trees. However, dear, it was just like having a> tooth out ; after it was over, I didn't think anything of it. What troubled us most -was, how I was to get back to the party, and we walked back to the house and considered what was to be done. Mamma advised me not to go at all, as I said I wouldn't ride ; but I determined I would go, though I walked all the way. After a great deal of planning, Mortimer suggested that we could lead the horses all the way, if I would only ride, and he would lead mine. At first I wouldn't even consent to this ; but as it I was getting late, and there didn't seem to be another way of getting over, I agreed to try. So that was settled. Well, dear, jtfst fancjr 5 we had never thought a single thing all this time about my horse, and can you guess where it was when we went to look ? On the ranges, about half-a-mile away, eating as quietly as possible, with the saddle on its back. Now weren't we in a fix ? What was to be done? None of the men had come home from work ? papa was at the township; and there- were only Mortimer and Lottie and Ito catch him. That I knew we might manage by midnight, but not before. Oh, dear ! wasn't it provoking ? At last Lottie suggested that she and Mortimer would take turns riding his horse, and I could have hers. Now, wasn't that good of her ? I wouldn't hear of it, however, for a lone time, it seemed so selfish ; but as something had to be done, I was obliged to give in. So Mortimer's saddle was put right, at last both stirrups were thrown over the same side, and Lottie got on. Then I got on her's, and we started very soberly indeed, though I must say poor Mortimer was trying to look as happy and contented as possible when he led my horse slowly along. I can't tell you, however, how unhappy I felt. They might have been going along quite comfortably if it had not been for me ; and as I thought, and thought, I got so miserable that I determined I should take the first opportunity of getting off, and should not get on again. Well, dear, I had just managed, after a deal of coaxing, to get them to let me off, and was trying to persuade Mortimer to put Lottie on her own horse and get on his, when I heard a stockwhip. Now you know as well as I can tell you that that is a sign of " cows," and oh I think my very heart stood still when suddenly a whole mob appeared on the road at the head of the gully we were in. A sod wall was on each side of us, I made a rush at one, caught hold of the top, put my foot into a fortunate hole, and with the thought of two horns going right through and through, me sprang over, into the very middle of a whole lot more. Oh Emily, fancy my feelings, I really thought I should have died on the spot. They were all looking at me, and waiting I have no doubt, for each other to make the first spring, when Mortimer jumped over. Oh, how thankful I was. I said to m>self that I should dance with him as often as ever he asked me if I was ever able to dance again. A gate was quite near. We went through, and found Lottie holding both the horses and looking in a very relieved manner after the departing cows. Here we had a rest, and after that Mortimer declared that if we wouldn't get on the horse* and jog along comfortably and without any more ado, he should take his own and go straight back. Lottie and I thought it better to agree to this ;-so we got on, and reached Mr Smith's without any more adventures, about eight o'clock, just as the boys had gone to bed, and the first dance commenced. However, my letter is too long to tell you more. I shall give you an account of the party, and the concert too— not to keep yon in suspense — by the very next post. Your loving, Nblly.

In a trade circular issued by a firm of colliers at Cardiff, it is stated, as a reason for a diminished output at the collieries, that quite one-half of the colliers are enjoying themselves at the seaside, or assisting in harvesting operations. A new epidemic has appeared in India which threatens to supersede that old enemy Dengue fever. The person attacked suddenly faints away, and dies after breathing hard for a few minutes. Strange to say this malady generally affects the most healthy persons. A Dartmouth correspondent says that was not a little amusing to see General Lysons inspecting the tents. He will have no special contrivances of any kind. He sets the example of living in a simple military tent, and on ordering one fancy structure in canvass to be pulled down, his exclamation was, "Officers and men may as well understand this once for all— -I shall have »o Donnybrook fair of tibia Camp."

REVIEW.

Memoir of Sir James T. Simpson, Bart., M-,D., JD.C.JJ., by J. Duns, D.D., E.E.S.E. Edinburgh : Edmonstoa and Douglas.

Of all literary undertakings, biography is perhaps the most entirely unsatisfactory. Year after year, men die whose life has been to their Mends and contemporaries a very marvel of interest. Without affectation, they think that an account of that life will prove as interesting anr* instructive to their friends again as it has been to themselves, and they think it a pity that another of God*s heroes should pass into forgetfulness without some attempt being made to fix the fleeting impressions which he conveyed to those t£at lived near him, and store them up for example to those who have never had the advantage of being connected with the departed. Such motives impel the relatives of the wise men of earth to gather together the records of a finished career, and launch out into authorship — an unknown sea for which they are often little qualified, and wherein they fail, to the injury less of themselves than of the idol whose memory they hoped fondly that they would perpetuate. The number is not few of those worthies to whom the labour of the biographer has done scant justice. A score or so of such loving records remain to show that when ability and hearty love are haply united, the result remains all that can be desired. For the rest, we throw them on one side, and regret without despising the useless labour which ha 3 enshrined a gem in so unworthy a setting. The work before us is but one more example of the enormous difficulty of writing a good biography. The jewel of Dr Simpson's life was well worthy of the most assiduous care. We may Bay of it that it wa3 indeed a gem of the purest water — the most dazzling brilliancy. By its setting we are reminded of those old family trinkets, surrounded, indeed, by gold such in amount asnomodern jeweller thinks of bestowing upon mere filligree work ; but so dull and tasteless in design to our modern taste as to go far to render the heirloom valueless until its surroundings be re-cast. Dr Simpson was a man who deserved better things, and though we can see in every page the intense desire of the biographer to do for his memory all that diligence and personal affection combined could effect, we doubt very much whether he has succeeded in commending his hero to the outside world who never knew him personally. To the circle of those who were associated with him in any capacity, and that circle must have been an enormous one, this, book will be a precious relic ; but still it is not the less true that a3 a whole the work is a failure. The story of the Doctor's life is not an unfamiliar one. Again and again in Scottish history we read of selfmade men, sprung from the ranks, who have achieved for themselves a position in the world by dint of a good elementary education and the hardest of hard work. May the list be a long one. We need not repeat the commonplaces which occur to everyone ; it is plain that where such success is possible, the condition of the commonwealth is sound to the very core. Like many others, Dr James Young Simpson owed much to the excellent elementary training given him in the parish school. His parents were small farmers residing at Winchburgh, in Linlithgowshire, and James was born in 1811, at Bathgate, in the same county. Being the youngest son, he was set aside, as is not uncommon, to be a scholar, and the exertions made by his parents and brothers to support him during the unproductive years of his professional and college training are recounted in this volume after a fashion which causes us to respect his brother Sandy very little less than the Doctor himself. As a child James was peculiarly winsome ; he was, too, the wise wean and the young philosopher. Lessons were easy, and he was ever dux of his class. When he went to college, where he enjoyed every advantage which good teaching could afford, his life was characterised by enormous industry, and an economy in his personal habits almost amounting to a fault. Throughout his college life, when chiefly dependent on supplies from home, he kept an exact account of his expenses, which at the close of the session was submitted to his family. The rent of his room in Adam street was not more than 3s per week, and during the first session his expenses were confined almost entirely to necessary food.

He was, in fact, a very model of the young Scotch student, ravenous after learning, indifferent to those psencfo luxuries which so often enervate an otherwise promising scholar ; determined to succeed, and alive to the fact that work, hard work, and plenty of it, could alone ensure the attainment of those gifts of fortune which are won and not given. He entered upon his professional life with a very deep sense of its responsibilities. "What, after all," he says, "are ma-

chinery and •merchandise, shares and stocks, consols and price currents, or the rates of cargoes of cattle, of corn, and cottons, in comparison with the inestimable value and importance of the health and the very lives of those fellow-men who everywhere move, and breathe, and speak, and act around us 1 What are any, or what are all of these objects compared with the most precious and valued of all God's gifts to carth — human life V*

In after lifa honours crowded thick upon him, and that comfort in financial matters which is so entirely necessary to all professional men was his. But at first he accomplished the feat of living on £50 per annum, and his first honour, that of being elected President of the Royal Medical Society, was not the least cherished. He was shortly after chosen as interim lecturer on pathology as assistant to Dr Thomson, and then, after a very keen struggle, to the Chair of Midwifery. This election caused the keenest excitement, and left many a bitter feeling behind it. It may be said that for many years the rancorous enemies that he made upon this occasion disturbed his life with their miserable slanders. Certainly Dr Simpson was not gifted with the grace of giving a soft answer. Several instances are faithfully recorded by his biographer, and we cannot wonder that some of his letters were the cause of bitter feelings. We make extracts from one of them : — "My dear Dr., &c, &c— A few hours ago I received the Lancet. Your strange paper in it has done me a world of good. I have seen the time when such a scurrilous attack as yours would have irritated me. Of course you are aware that it would be mfra dig. in me to reply publicly to such a personal attack as you have chosen to send to the Lancet. Let me allude to one or two of your most prominent errors in the libel alluded to, &c, <fee. In some particularly a.bsurd remarks in your P.S., in which, &c, &c, I rejoice at such bitter personal attacks and absurd misrepresentations as you and poor G. indulge in for one reason. " It is not, we say, to be wondered at that people felt a little sore when they received such castigations as this. But, indeed, Dr Simpson was not a man who ever sought to tone down his sentences, either in speaking or writing. He was of a vigorous, intensely earnest and excitable habit, a man who threw his whole soul into an argument, and though he could so far place himself in the position of his opponents as unanswerably to confute the essence of their arguments, he not the less was a partisan in every discussion, and by no means a judge. That doctors differ has become a very byeword, but we never had the fact more prominently presented to us than in Dr Simpson's life. One long series of bitter quarrels — quarrels which we feel he could hardly have avoided — marred his piece of mind and disgraced his traducers. He indeed committed too often that sin unpardonable to every learned profession, but doubly unpardonable to the medicos of the first Medical University in Great Britain, of introducing novelties. Two great discoveries are indissolubly connected with his name, though, as usual in all discoveries, the honour of being the first is claimed by an American in opposition. Two great discoveries are associated with his name, viz., acupressure and chloroform. Such novelties are not to be lightly thrust forward, to the relief, perhaps, of the patients, but to the injury of the older school of practitioners. I Accordingly, they opposed and abused these human inventions tooth and nail by every means, secular — and even sacred ! "When," says Dr Turner, "giving the Professor my limited but favourable experience of acupressure shortly after it was introduced, I made jocular allusion to the fiercß opposition the innovation was exciting, and the outrage he had committed on those sacred mysteries the surgical principles, to the unspeakable discomposure of the surgical mind, ' the surgical mind, he said, is a very curious piece of metaphysics. I shall be quite content if acupressure begins to be thought of about a quarter of a century hence. ' " To define very accurately the exact use and meaning of acupressure would perhaps not prove very interesting to aay but medical readers. It may be sufficient to say here that it was an ingenious and valuable method of stopping hoemorrhage from a severed blood-vessel after amputation. Chloroform is the medical discovery which will give an imperishable renown to the name of this self-made Scottish physician. Thousands of patients who would otherwise have had to writhe in conscious agony beneath the surgeon's knife, have blessed the merciful discovery of Dr Simpson, which enabled them to pass the most terrible of operations in blissful unconsciousness of the healing wound. It seems that Simpson's tender heart early led him, after witnessing the awful suffering of a Highland woman who had been operated upon for cancer in the breast, to cast about for some means of alleviating

human suffering. He experimented on himself and others with ether, and became convinced that this was not altogether satisfactory, but that there were other therapeutic agents which, if introduced into the system, would answer all the ends he had in view. After some little time he was led to use chloroform, and found that from the exceptioral ease with which it could be administered it was all that could be desired as an anaesthetic agent. Great was the tumult in medical, and, will it be credited, in religious circles, caused by this new method of alleviating human anguish. For the medicos their opposition was nothing more than the naturally severe cross fire of scientific examination which every new discovery is obliged to pass through. For the religio-clerical opposition there is less to be said. Ministers of the Gospel of love contended for the sacred right of man to suffer, and contended that "Adam was to eat of the ground in sorrow" — that the primary curse would have to be borne in patience, and not struggled with. Others maintained that to apply a drug which would take away man's greatest gift, conscious reason, was impiuus; while others, with something more of reason, feared that it might be used for illicit purposes. Dr Simpson rushed at these pseudo-religious combatants with something more than his accustomed vigour.

By-the-bye, Imlach tells me Dr. P. is to enlighten your medical society about the morality of the practice. I have a great itching to run up and pound him. The true moral question is— is a practitioner justified by any principles of humanity in not using it 1 I believe every operation without it is just a piece of the most deliberate and coldblooded cruelty. Adam was to eat of the ground in sorrow. That does not mean physical pain, and it was cursed to bear thorns and thistles, which we pull up without dreaming that it is a sin. Again, in answer to another objection, chloroform has been discovered through no occult science ; it is a parallel discovery with vaccination. It is used with thankfulness, and not in opposition to G-od. It may be worth while noting how these peculiar religious objections have a tendency to repeat themselves. The opponents of " The Contagious Diseases Acts" now-a-days object, in almost identical language with the opponents of the use of chloroform, to the use of any agent which may seem to hinder the working of God's punishment for sin. May the present share the same fate as the fools of past days. It is impossible to recount a fraction of the good deeds of this kind and loving physician. His memory lives and will live through this generation, because all who knew him, or at any time came under his tender care, will find it impossible to let his memory fade away. He died at the age of 59, from anguina pectoris ; possibly it would be more exactly true to say that he killed himself at that age by over work. As one of her own typical children, Scotland at large will ever rejoice over the great physician. A Bathgate bairn he was proud to call himself, and -he declined every opportunity that offered to sever his connection with his well-beloved Edinburgh. We do not doubt that the old home will rear men as good and great as he, and we are sure that no young medical student could read a better life or follow a more excellent model than that of Sir James Simpson.