FOOL.—­I have a friend who—­

DOCTOR.—­Stands in great need of my assistance.  Absence of excitement, gentle restraint, a hard bed, simple diet—­that will straighten him out.

F.—­I’ll give thee sixpence to let me touch the hem of thy garment!

D.—­What of your friend?

F.—­He is a gentleman.

D.—­Then he is dead!

F.—­Just so:  he is “straightened out”—­he took your prescription.

D.—­All but the “simple diet.”

F.—­He is himself the diet.

D.—­How simple!

* * * * *

FOOL.—­Believe you a man retains his intellect after decapitation?

DOCTOR.—­It is possible that he acquires it?

F.—­Much good it does him.

D.—­Why not—­as compensation?  He is at some disadvantage in other respects.

F.—­For example?

D.—­He is in a false position.

* * * * *

FOOL.—­What is the most satisfactory disease?

DOCTOR.—­Paralysis of the thoracic duct.

F.—­I am not familiar with it.

D.—­It does not encourage familiarity.  Paralysis of the thoracic duct enables the patient to accept as many invitations to dinner as he can secure, without danger of spoiling his appetite.

F.—­But how long does his appetite last?

D.—­That depends.  Always a trifle longer than he does.

F.—­The portion that survives him—?

D.—­Goes to swell the Mighty Gastric Passion which lurks darkly
Outside, yawning to swallow up material creation!

F.—­Pitch it a biscuit.

* * * * *

FOOL.—­You attend a patient.  He gets well.  Good!  How do you tell whether his recovery is because of your treatment or in spite of it?

DOCTOR.—­I never do tell.

F.—­I mean how do you know?

D.—­I take the opinion of a person interested in the question:  I ask a fool.

F.—­How does the patient know?

D.—­The fool asks me.

F.—­Amiable instructor!  How shall I reward thee?

D.—­Eat a cucumber cut up in shilling claret.

* * * * *

DOCTOR.—­The relation between a patient and his disease is the same as that which obtains between the two wooden weather-prophets of a Dutch clock.  When the disease goes off, the patient goes on; when the disease goes on, the patient goes off.

FOOL.—­A pauper conceit.  Their relations, then, are not of the most cordial character.

D.—­One’s relations—­except the poorer sort—­seldom are.

F.—­My tympanum is smitten with pleasant peltings of wisdom!  I ’ll lay you ten to one you cannot tell me the present condition of your last patient.

D.—­Done!

F.—­You have won the wager.

FOOL.—­I once read the report of an actual conversation upon a scientific subject between a fool and a physician.