ve a look at it."

Wrapper after wrapper was now taken from the lame foot, till Dr. Port
began to scowl. "You keep it too warm," said he. "A wound of this sort
should be kept cool, if you don't wish to have it inflame. A slight
wrapping is all that is needful." They came at length to the wound. "It
does not look very badly," said Dr. Port; "but you must keep it cool.
And then," added he with an oath, the very thought of which to this day
almost makes me shudder, "You must keep your nasty, abominable ointments
away from it. Remember one thing, Capt. R., whenever you have a new
flesh wound, all you can possibly do with any hope of advantage is to
bring the divided edges of the parts together and keep them there, and
nature will take care of the rest."

"Would you, then, do nothing at all but bind it up and keep it still?"
said Capt. R. "Nothing at all," said he, "unless it should inflame; and
then a little water applied to it is as good as any thing."--"But is
there nothing of a healing nature I can use?" said the captain. "I have
told you already," said he, with another strange oath, "that you don't
want any thing healing on the outside, if you had a cart-load of
medicaments. All wounds, when they heal at all, heal from the bottom;
and of course all your external applications are useless, except so far
as is necessary to protect the parts from fresh injury and keep them
from the air."

The crowd around looked as if they were amazed; but it was Dr. Port who
said it, and therefore it must be swallowed. I was somewhat surprised
with the rest. And I have not a doubt that what he said was to most of
them an invaluable lecture. For myself, as a student of _man_, it was
just what I needed. It set me to thinking. It was a lesson which I could
never forget if I were to live a thousand years.

It was a lesson, moreover, which I have repeated almost a thousand
times, in circumstances not dissimilar. Indeed, I believe this very
occurrence did much to turn my attention to the medical profession. I
saw at once it was a rational thing; a matter of plain common sense; a
thing of principle; and not on the one hand a bundle of mysteries, nor
on the other a mere humbug.

Dr. Port long ago paid the debt of nature; but not till he had made his
mark on the age he lived in. If, indeed, he died as the fool dieth,--and
thus it was said he _did_ die,--he was at least a means of teaching
others to live right. He did great good by his frequent