elder and carries a pellet of very moderate consistency。 That Boy
was in his seat and looking demure enough； but there could be no
question that he was the artillery…man who had discharged the
missile。 The aim was not a bad one； for it took the Master full in
the forehead； and had the effect of checking the flow of his
eloquence。 How the little monkey had learned to time his
interruptions I do not know； but I have observed more than once
before this； that the popgun would go off just at the moment when
some one of the company was getting too energetic or prolix。 The Boy
isn't old enough to judge for himself when to intervene to change the
order of conversation； no； of course he isn't。 Somebody must give
him a hint。 Somebody。 Who is it？ I suspect Dr。 B。 Franklin。 He
looks too knowing。 There is certainly a trick somewhere。 Why； a day
or two ago I was myself discoursing； with considerable effect； as I
thought； on some of the new aspects of humanity； when I was struck
full on the cheek by one of these little pellets； and there was such
a confounded laugh that I had to wind up and leave off with a
preposition instead of a good mouthful of polysyllables。 I have
watched our young Doctor； however； and have been entirely unable to
detect any signs of communication between him and this audacious
child； who is like to become a power among us； for that popgun is
fatal to any talker who is hit by its pellet。 I have suspected a
foot under the table as the prompter； but I have been unable to
detect the slightest movement or look as if he were making one； on
the part of Dr。 Benjamin Franklin。 I cannot help thinking of the
flappers in Swift's Laputa； only they gave one a hint when to speak
and another a hint to listen； whereas the popgun says unmistakably；
〃Shut up！〃
I should be sorry to lose my confidence in Dr。 B。 Franklin； who
seems very much devoted to his business； and whom I mean to consult
about some small symptoms I have had lately。 Perhaps it is coming to
a new boarding…house。 The young people who come into Paris from the
provinces are very aptso I have been told by one that knowsto
have an attack of typhoid fever a few weeks or months after their
arrival。 I have not been long enough at this table to get well
acclimated； perhaps that is it。 Boarding…House Fever。 Something
like horse…ail； very likely；horses get it； you know； when they are
brought to city stables。 A little 〃off my feed；〃 as Hiram Woodruff
would say。 A queer discoloration about my forehead。 Query； a bump？
Cannot remember any。 Might have got it against bedpost or something
while asleep。 Very unpleasant to look so。 I wonder how my portrait
would look； if anybody should take it now！ I hope not quite so badly
as one I saw the other day； which I took for the end man of the
Ethiopian Serenaders； or some traveller who had been exploring the
sources of the Niger； until I read the name at the bottom and found
it was a face I knew as well as my own。
I must consult somebody； and it is nothing more than fair to give our
young Doctor a chance。 Here goes for Dr。 Benjamin Franklin。
The young Doctor has a very small office and a very large sign； with
a transparency at night big enough for an oyster…shop。 These young
doctors are particularly strong； as I understand； on what they call
diagnosis；an excellent branch of the healing art； full of
satisfaction to the curious practitioner； who likes to give the right
Latin name to one's complaint； not quite so satisfactory to the
patient； as it is not so very much pleasanter to be bitten by a dog
with a collar round his neck telling you that he is called Snap or
Teaser； than by a dog without a collar。 Sometimes； in fact； one
would a little rather not know the exact name of his complaint； as if
he does he is pretty sure to look it out in a medical dictionary； and
then if he reads； This terrible disease is attended with vast
suffering and is inevitably mortal； or any such statement； it is apt
to affect him unpleasantly。
I confess to a little shakiness when I knocked at Dr。 Benjamin's
office door。 〃Come in！〃 exclaimed Dr。 B。 F。 in tones that sounded
ominous and sepulchral。 And I went in。
I don't believe the chambers of the Inquisition ever presented a more
alarming array of implements for extracting a confession； than our
young Doctor's office did of instruments to make nature tell what was
the matter with a poor body。
There were Ophthalmoscopes and Rhinoscopes and Otoscopes and
Laryngoscopes and Stethoscopes； and Thermometers and Spirometers and
Dynamometers and Sphygmometers and Pleximeters； and Probes and
Probangs and all sorts of frightful inquisitive exploring
contrivances； and scales to weigh you in； and tests and balances and
pumps and electro…magnets and magneto…electric machines； in short；
apparatus for doing everything but turn you inside out。
Dr。 Benjamin set me down before his one window and began looking at
me with such a superhuman air of sagacity； that I felt like one of
those open…breasted clocks which make no secret of their inside
arrangements； and almost thought he could see through me as one sees
through a shrimp or a jelly…fish。 First he looked at the place
inculpated； which had a sort of greenish…brown color； with his naked
eyes； with much corrugation of forehead and fearful concentration of
attention； then through a pocket…glass which he carried。 Then he
drew back a space； for a perspective view。 Then he made me put out
my tongue and laid a slip of blue paper on it； which turned red and
scared me a little。 Next he took my wrist； but instead of counting
my pulse in the old…fashioned way； he fastened a machine to it that
marked all the beats on a sheet of paper；for all the world like a
scale of the heights of mountains； say from Mount Tom up to
Chimborazo and then down again； and up again； and so on。 In the mean
time he asked me all sorts of questions about myself and all my
relatives； whether we had been subject to this and that malady； until
I felt as if we must some of us have had more or less of them； and
could not feel quite sure whether Elephantiasis and Beriberi and
Progressive Locomotor Ataxy did not run in the family。
After all this overhauling of myself and my history； he paused and
looked puzzled。 Something was suggested about what he called an
〃exploratory puncture。〃 This I at once declined； with thanks。
Suddenly a thought struck him。 He looked still more closely at the
discoloration I have spoken of。
Looks likeI declare it reminds me ofvery rare！ very curious！
It would be strange if my first caseof this kindshould be one of
our boarders！
What kind of a case do you call it？I said； with a sort of feeling
that he could inflict a severe or a light malady on me； as if he were
a judge passing sentence。
The color reminds me；said Dr。 B。 Franklin；of what I have seen
in a case of Addison's Disease； Morbus Addisonii。
But my habits are quite regular；I said； for I remembered that the
distinguished essayist was too fond of his brandy and water； and I
confess that the thought was not pleasant to me of following Dr。
Johnson's advice； with the slight variation of giving my days and my
nights to trying on the favorite maladies of Addison。
Temperance people are subject to it！exclaimed Dr。 Benjamin；
almost exultingly； I thought。
But I had the impression that the author of the Spectator was
afflicted with a dropsy； or some such inflated malady； to which
persons of sedentary and bibacious habits are liable。 ＇A literary
swell；I thought to myself； but I did not say it。 I felt too
serious。＇
The author of the Spectator！cried out Dr。 Benjamin；I mean the
celebrated Dr。 Addison； inventor； I would say discoverer； of the
wonderful new disease called after him。
…And what may this valuable invention or discovery consist in？I
asked； for I was curious to know the nature of the gift which this
benefactor of the race had bestowed upon us。
A most interesting affection； and rare； too。 Allow me to look
closely at that discoloration once more for a moment。 Cutis cenea；
bronze skin； they call it sometimesextraordinary pigmentationa
little more to the light； if you pleaseah！ now I get the bronze
coloring admirably； beautifully！ Would you have any objection to
showing your case to the Societies of Medical Improvement and Medical
Observation？
＇My case！ O dear！＇ May I ask if any vital organ is commonly
involved in this interesting complaint？I said； faintly。
Well； sir；the young Doctor replied；there is an organ which is
sometimesa little touched； I may say； a very curious and ingenious
little organ or pair of organs。 Did you ever hear of the Capsulae；
Suprarenales？
No；said I；is it a mortal complaint？I ought to have known
better than to ask such a question； but I was getting nervous and
thinking about all sorts of horrid maladies people are liable to；
with horrid names to match。
It is n't a complaint；I mean they are not a complaint；they are
two small organs； as I said； inside of you； and nobody knows what is
the use of them。 The most curious thing is that when anything is the
matter with them you turn of the color of bronze。 After all； I
didn