Martha Spreull/At a Hydropathic

by Henry Johnston

CHAPTER XV.

AT A HYDROPATHIC.

'M no' leein' when I tell ye that the thread o' this discourse wis as near nicket as ever onything wis in this mortal and sinfu' worl'. Four hale weeks hae passed by since I finished my last chapter, and truly I had sic fears that it wud be my last that I instructet my law adviser, Maister Fleming, in case onything should happen, to write ye a posthummas article saying that I wis cuttet aff in the prime o' my usefulness wi' my autobiography little mair than hauf finished, and that though the worl' had suffered a great loss thereby, inasmuch as I had still some highly moral and instructive reflections to set doon, I wisna to be held blameable, for, in truth, it wis the very last thing wud have gi'en in to mysel'.

"Noo, Maister Fleming, there maun be an epytaff," says I, efter I had left him a heap o' orders.

"Weel," says he, laying aside his glesses wi' great solemnity, "I 'll take your instructions."^[1]

“My what?” quoth I, jumping to my elbow and flingin’ my arms ower the counterpane; " must a virtuous, weel-leevin’, no’ to say God-fearin’ wumman, wha has foundet a bursary and written the better part o’ an autobiography, condescend to gie instructions aboot her epytaff? Na, na, gin it comes to that I ’ll leave my name to posterity, and if naebody thinks it worth while to put a mementae on my tombstone, I ’ll no’ lea’ it i’ their power to say I inditet and paid for letterin’ my ain virtues.”

Maister Fleming wis vexed, and tried to explain the thing awa’. Had I deet then, I believe I wud have gotten as fine an inscription as ever ony lawyer wrote on a headstane; but I wis in ower great a temper to dee. At that instant I must have got the turn, for when the doctor cam’ next he stared as if somebody had worked miracles on me, and when I telt him the cause, he wis like to fa’ doon in a fit wi’ laughin, and said it wud be a while before I needed an epytaff yet, as a’ I wanted noo wis nourishing diet and a change o’ air.

Weel, it wis some days before I could venture on a change. Mrs. Warnock, the baker’s wife in George Street, wis unco attentive, and advised that I should gang to Rothesay and tak’ the mineral watters; but when I telt Willie Warstle, wha is noo in the logic class i’ the College, he laughed at the senselessness o’ the wumman advising onybody to try and get up their strength on mineral watters. He thought, hooever, that I might gang to a hydropatic establishment, and as the callant has lately shown himsel’ wise and thoughtfu’ ayont his years, I took his advice.

Noo, before I gaed to the establishment, I wis warned that I shouldna tell the doctor I had been ill, as a’ I needed to set me up wis nourishing food and caller air. It wis a great muckle hoose, furnished frae bottom to top like a Sultan’s palace, but the withdrawin’ room beat a' ever I saw. The wa’s were lined wi’ great lookin’-glesses in gilt frames, an’ showed me sae mony views o’ my ain figure that I had to steal into the recess o’ a window to hide frae mysel’. There wud, maybe, be some twenty or thirty in the room—men and women. The men maistly sleepin’ on grand easy chairs, the women either knitting or pretending to read, though I could see frae the lookin’glesses that the readers were lookin’ ower their books at me. By and by a grand buxom duchess rises frae the fire and planks hersel’ doon beside me at the window. She wis unco free, and speered a heap o’ questions, naming me by my name.

“Ye hae the better o’ me,” quoth I, “ for I dinna ken that we ever met afore. ’

“Oh!” quoth she, “I saw your name in the book; are ye related to the Trongate Spreulls ? ”

“The late Jen Spreull wis a second cousin on my faither’s side.”

“Oh! my,” says she, “ I kent her weel.” In a short time I fand oot that the great duchess wis a wumman; that, in fact, she wis the wife o’ a ham-curer in Brunswick Street, named Bacon. She wis aboot the healthiest-like wumman ever I saw; but she talked even on for aboot a quarter o’ an hour to show me what a complication o’ ailments she had. Then I got the personal history o’ every ither wumman in the room besides a full, true, and particular account o’ what wis wrang wi’ them, so that when I gaed in to dinner I kent the company as weel as if I had bidit in the hoose for a week.

Being the last arrival, I wis set doon by the side o’ the doctor at the head o’ the table. He wis a thin, gaunt, langcbafied man, wha said little, and minded his ain plate. Mrs. Bacon, wha sat on the ither side o’ me, had plenty to say in the

withdrawing-room, but she wis quate enough noo. As an

eater, she micht have been Eab Haw’s cousin. I never saw her equal. Her complaint wis—a great load on the stomach efter meals—heart-burn and palpitation—and nae wonder. But, in fact, they were nearly a’ as bad—I mean the women— for they ate during the forty minutes alloot for dinner as if they had been on piece-work. When the doctor had reached the puddin’ stage he began to look aboot him and saw me. Efter the dinner wis ower he touched me on the airm, invited me into his consultin’-room, and presented me wi’ a copy o’ the “Water Cure.” I wis touched wi’ the man’s kindness, and tried to thank him for the book.

“ Read it,” he said; “ I fear there is something the matter wi’ your digestive organs.”

“ Dear me,” quoth I, “ dae ye think sae ? ”

“Ay,” he said; “your food should give you more flesh.” I thought o’ Mrs. Bacon, wi’ her mountainous figure, and wondered whether mair flesh, heart-burn, and palpitation wud be a benefit; but his kindness hadna exhausted itsel’.

“ Here,” he said, gaun ower to a press and bringing oot a piece o’ water-proof in his hand; “ this is a stomach-compress. Apply that as described in the book, and I think it will do you good.” I had never received sae much attention before from an entire stranger, so I thanked him for his great courtesy and carried the presents up to my room.

Next morning efter breakfast a gey stout, red-faced-lookin’ wumman cam’ up to me in the lobby, and, addressing me by name, said the doctor had told her I should hae a hot pack.

“ A hot pack,” quoth I; “ what’s that ? ”

“ Oh ! ” quoth she, “ it’s a bath.”

“ Weel,” quoth I, “ the doctor has been real kin’, and if he thinks a hot bath is guid for me I hae nae objections.” So at the time appointed I met the red-faced wumman in the lobby, and she led the way into a long room wi’ sma’ apartments on either hand, screened aff by curtains.

She put me into ane o’ them, telt me to undress, and left a hot sheet wi’ me. When I wis undressed she led me into a hot room. Thinks I this is gaun ower the score; I never can stan’ this. Talk o’ the Indays—it wis like walking into a bui'ning, fiery furnace.

“ Excuse me,” says I; “ I hinna muckle flesh, but what I hae will be burned aff my back if I stay here.”

She smiled as if I had made a humorous remark, and led me further ben. Then she laid me doon on a shelf—for by this time I wis quite helpless—and put a wet sheet ower me, then on the top o’ that she put a rug, and efter tucking me in like a baby she left me lying on my back. I must have fented several times before she ever looked near me again.

I saw figures moving aboot in the dim light, and I dreamed I wis a lassie again on the Bell o’ the Brae, and saw my faither and mither, and Peter and Mrs. Spale, and the lame schulemaister, in Shuttle Street, wi’ Tammas Taigle in the middle o’ the flair shieing the tawse at his heid, and carrying aff his wig. In the middle o’ my dream I felt the rug and the sheet wis being removed, and I saw the red-faced wumman nearly naked beckoning me to follow her. On going into the next room I wis placed in a sma’ circular box, but what wis to come next I couldna tell; by and by a thousand jets o’ watter stung me wi’ a comfortable heat—I turned round and round, for the points were jagging me like needles; then it got cooler, then caulder, until at last I fairly came to my senses, lost my breath, and ran oot o’ the thing a’thegither, telling the wumman that I wudna submit to that for the Queen on the throne. Weel, 1 can tell you I wis glad to get awa’ wi’ my life. Efter that I stayed six days at the establishment, there wis,hooever,nae mair hot packs for me. I felt greatly improved when I left, but I had a bonny bill to pay. I could neither mak' head nor tail o’ t at the time, though on looking at the account efter-hin’, I found amongst the details that I wis charged for a book on “ The Water Cure," a stomach-compress, and a medical consultation. “ The Water Cure ” I havena read, and the compress has never been on, so if ye ken ony charitable or benevolent institution that wud value sic things, I am willing to part wi’ them as a donation in kind.

Aboot the doctor's grace before meat I have just a word to say or I’m dune.

“ For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us thankful," wis what I heard the first day I went there. Thinks I, doctor, ye ’re in a hurry the day, having omitted to ask a blessing on the meal, but it was the same request to be made thankfu’, even on, as lang as I was there, till I wis sick o’t.

Noo, gratitude, if worth onything ava’, oucht to be spontaneous, and if the Lord has to mah’ a man thankfu’ for a guid healthy meal o’ meat, then, wi’ a’ reverence be it spoken, I think it’s hardly worth His while.

1. I own I was sorely grieved at finding my fair client so ill, but professional etiquette prevented me committing anything to writing without orders. I respectfully admit I could have said much in praises of her virtues, but as she herself is a woman of extraordinary talent I thought she might have something important to communicate at such a crisis. As to the immediate effect of my conduct on the patient's health, I have no apology to offer.—Ed.