IMPORTANT MEDICAL MEETING.
A Numerous meeting of the medical profession was held at Apothecaries’ Hall on Tuesday evening, for the purpose of considering the propriety of presenting a testimonial from the profession to the Clerk of the Weather, in return for his recent management of his department. Dr. Twaddler was unanimously called to the chair.
Dr. Twaddler said, that he and other gentlemen had felt that the weather for the last month had been so extraordinarily favourable to the profits, the legitimate profits (hear, hear), of the profession to which he had the honour to belong, and was so exactly that which a medical man with a proper regard for his family must be delighted to see, that it seemed hardly proper to pass it over without notice. The thermometer had varied twenty degrees in a day, and tumbled back, or run up again in a night, and he was happy to think that few constitutions were insensible of changes that sent a man out to his work perspiring and brought him home freezing. For himself, he had much more work to do than he could possibly perform, and had been compelled to restrict his attendance to the residences mentioned in the Peerage. But he did not grudge a share in the spoils (laughter) to his professional brethren. (Applause.) He would call on his friend Mr. Honeyboy to move the first resolution.
Mr. Honeyboy said, that they should really cut matters short, for time was fees in a time like this, and they must make hay while the influenza shines upon them. He was happy to say, that the weather was most trying, most depressing; you scarcely met a person without a miserable cough, and as for the children, their life was one long snivel. (Applause.) He thought the Clerk of the Weather deserved their best thanks, and- (here a buttony lad ran is and whispered the speaker. Ironical plaudits.) “No, no, my dear fellows,” said Mr. Honeyboy laughing, “it’s not humbling this time; he has a real message for me, a whole family laid up, thank Influenza!” (The speaker bolted.)
Mr. D’emulgent said that their friend had gone off in such a hurry, aperiently (roars of laughter), that he had forgotten his resolution. Truly they ought to be thankful, for never was there so muck sickness about – not dangerous, mind you, for that it would be wrong to be glad of, besides its being difficult to deal with, but that sort of very troublesome, irritating, disagreeable illness that made everybody fidgety and frightened unless the medical man was constantly in the house. He thought, however, that any demonstration on their part was unwise as there was already a feeling abroad that if people washed themselves well, lived well, took exercise, talked cheerfully, and laughed often, they might do without a good deal of the medical attendance they now paid heavily for, and it would be well not to increase any prejudice against the profession.
Mr. Fitzlabel agreed. They were going on very well, let them take their money and be quiet. He had his washing-copper brewed full of “The Draught” every morning, and it was empty at night. (Sensation and applause.)
Dr. Greed had been afraid the weather was going to settle, but up to that time there were no unfavourable symptoms. He advised their making their game while they could, and talking about it, if people wanted to talk (he didn’t) afterwards.
Dr. Twaddler said, that as this seemed to be the view of the meeting, he would adjourn it sine die, and retire from the chair, heartily congratulating the profession on a state of things that must fill them with so much justifiable pleasure.
After the usual vote of thanks, the meeting rushed off to make pills.
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