THE REFORMED PRACTICE.

SYNOPTICAL VIEW OF THE PROMINENT SYSTEMS OF MEDICINE.

Some of our readers, especially the non-medical, may desire to know what the following remarks, which appear to apply generally to the human family, have to do with cattle doctoring. We answer them in the language of Professor Percival. "The object of the veterinary art is not only congenial with human medicine, but the very same paths which lead to a knowledge of the diseases of man, lead also to a knowledge of those of brutes. An accurate examination of the interior parts of their bodies; a studious survey of the arrangement, structure, use, connection, and relation of these parts, and of the laws by which they act; as also of the nature and properties of the various food and other agents which the earth so liberally provides for their support and cure,—these form, in a great measure, the sound and sure foundation of all medical science, whatever living individual animal be the subject of our consideration. Whether we prescribe for a man, horse, dog, or cat, the laws of the animal economy are the same; and one system, and that based upon established facts, is to guide our practice in all.

"The theory of medicine in the human subject is the theory of medicine in the brute; it is the application of that theory—the practice alone—that is different.

"We might as well, in reference to the principles of each, attempt to separate surgery from medicine, as insist that either of these arts, in theory, is essentially different from the veterinary: every day's experience serves to confirm this our belief, and in showing us how often the diseases of animals arise from the same causes as those of a man, exhibit the same indications, and require a similar method of cure.

"The science of medicine, like others, consists of a collection of facts of a common and not a specific character. These, therefore, admit of arrangement into different systems, according to the notions of theorists, and the various species of philosophy, brought to bear on the subject.

"The first regular system was founded by Hippocrates, about three hundred and eighty years before Christ. It was founded upon theory, and comprised the doctrines of the ancient dogmatic school. Its pathology rested upon a supposed change of the humors of the body, particularly the blood and bile; and here are the first elements of the 'humoral pathology.' Its remedial intentions were founded upon the existence of the 'vis conservatrix' et 'medicatrix naturæ;' and, although often maintaining direct antipathic principles of action, it rested mainly on physo-dynamic influence for the accomplishment of its therapeutic purposes.

"About two hundred and ninety years before Christ, Philinus of Cos introduced the ancient Empiric System, which was founded upon experience and observation. About one hundred years before the Christian era, the Methodic System was introduced by Asclepiades of Bithynia. This system was got up with an avowed opposition to that of Hippocrates, which was called 'a study of death.' Themison of Laodicea, pupil of Asclepiades, gives an exposition of the fundamental principles of the methodic system; and it seems that all physiological and pathological action was considered to be dependent upon the strictum and laxum of the organic pores, or increased and decreased secretion, and that all medicines act only on two principles, i. e., by inducing contraction and relaxation, or an increase and decrease of the secretions.

"It would seem that, in the first century of the Christian era, the methodic system was divided into various subordinate ones—the Pneumatic, Episynthetic, and Eclectic. The pneumatic system, which was the most popular of the fragments of the methodic, was most indebted to Athenæus of Attalia for its successful introduction. This system contemplated the doctrine of the Stoics, which recognized the existence of a spirit governing and directing every thing, and which, when offended, would produce disease; hence the name pneumatic. The indications of cure were more moral than physical. Fire, air, water, &c., were not considered elements, but their properties—heat, cold, dryness, moisture, &c.—were alone entitled to the name.

"In the second century, the Galenic System was founded by Claudius Galenus. This might, indeed, only be considered the revival of the dogmatic or Hippocratean system. Galen professed to have selected what he found valuable from all the prevailing systems, and has embraced the elements and ruling spirit of the pneumatic school. Thus he explained the operation of medicines by reference to their elementary qualities,—that is, heat, cold, dryness, and moisture,—of each of which he admitted four degrees. But he was governed by a prevailing partiality for the system of Hippocrates, which, he states, was either misunderstood or misrepresented by all theorists, ever since the establishment of the empiric and methodic schools. He devoted most of his time to commenting upon and embellishing it, and thus again established a system, founded on reason, observation, and sound induction, which maintained its character, without a rival, for more than one thousand five hundred years.

"Near the middle of the sixteenth century, Paracelsus introduced the Chemical System. This was strongly opposed by Bellonius and Riverius, who maintained the doctrine of Hippocrates and Galen. But the presumptuous Paracelsus burned, 'in solemn state,' the works of the ancients; and being succeeded by the indefatigable Van Helmont, the whole science of medicine was overwhelmed by the mysticism of the alchemical doctrines and languages. The chemical theory, in the main, rejects the influence, or even the existence, of the vis medicatrix naturæ, and explains all physiological, pathological, and therapeutic operations upon abstract chemical laws. Thus chemical or inorganic agents, and many of the most virulent poisons, as arsenic, mercury, antimony, &c., were placed among the most prominent remedies.

"Soon after the introduction of the chemical system, medical science, if we make one exception, became less eccentric, but much less marked for the permanency of its systems. Boerhaave ingeniously blended most of the prominent doctrines of the Galenic and chemical systems; and by an application of several of the newly-developed natural sciences, especially mathematics and natural philosophy, he led his successors into a more even path and fixed method of investigation; for no more do we find any abstract physical laws the sole basis of a system. But these were the highest honors allowed Boerhaave; his particular system was soon subverted by Stahl, who proved the supreme superintendence of an immaterial, vital principle, corresponding to that pointed out by Hippocrates. To this he ascribes intelligence, if not moral attributes. Hoffman led Cullen into the path that brought him into the fruitful field of nervous pathology and solidism, which, with a modification of Stahl's ruling immaterial essence, formed the groundwork of his admired system.

"If, now, we except the eccentricities of Brown, comprising his system, founded on the sthenic and asthenic diathesis, we find little interruption to the general prevalence of the Cullenian system, till nearly the present juncture. The succeeding authors, colleges, and medical societies have only modified and amplified the general theory, and regulated the practice into a comparative uniformity, which now constitutes the popular Allopathic System. But notwithstanding the comparatively settled state of medical science, it could not be supposed that in this remarkable age of improvement, while all other liberal sciences and arts are progressing as if prosecuted by superhuman agency, medicine should fail to undergo corresponding improvement.

"Several new systems of medicine date themselves within the last forty years, viz.: 1. The Homæopathic, introduced by Hahnemann, and founded upon the principle, similia similibus curantur. 2. The Botanic, established by a new class of medical philosophers, within the last twenty years. 3. The Eclectic, corresponding, in its essential doctrines, with the ancient eclectic system."

CREED OF THE REFORMERS.

We believe that a perfect system of medical science is that which never allows disease to exist at all; which prevents disease, instead of curing it, by means of a perfect hygienic system, proper modes of life, attention to diet, ventilation, and exercise.

We believe that the next best system is that which, after disease has made its appearance, promptly meets its development by the use of such agencies as are perfectly in harmony with the laws of life and health, and physiological in their action; such, for example, as water, air, heat and cold, friction, food, drink, and medicines that are not usually regarded as poisons, and are known to prove congenial to the animal constitution.

We have no attachment to any remedy which experience shows unsafe; but, on the contrary, we rejoice in the success of every attempt to substitute sanative for disease-creating agents, and believe that a number of the articles which are still occasionally used in the old school, will in time become obsolete, as medical science progresses.

We hold that our opposition to any course of medical treatment should be in proportion to the mischief it produces, entirely irrespective of medical theories. Hence our hostility to the lancet.

We do not profess to know more about anatomy, physiology, surgery, &c., than our allopathic brethren; but the superiority which our system claims over others is, in the main, to be found in our therapeutic agents, all of which are harmless, safe, and efficient. While they arouse the energies of nature to resist the ravages of disease, they act harmoniously with the vital principle, in the restoration of the system from a pathological to the physiological state.

TRUE PRINCIPLES.

"Our objection to the old school," says Professor Curtis, "has ever been, that they not only have no true principles to guide their practice, but they have adopted, fixed, and obstinately adhered to principles the very reverse of the true. They have resolved that, in disease, nature turns a somerset—reverses all her normal laws, and requires them to do the same. They have decreed that the best means and processes to cure the sick are those which will most speedily kill them when in health. In the face of all reason and common sense, they have adhered to this doctrine and practice for the last three centuries, and they have been constrained to confess that the destruction they have produced on human life and health has far exceeded all that has been effected by the sword, pestilence, and famine. Still they obstinately persevere. They say their science is progressive—improving; yet its progression consists in contriving new ways and means to take part of the life's blood, and poison all the balance.

"Medicine, being based on the laws of nature, is in itself an exact science; and every process of the act should be directed by those laws.

"Medicine is a demonstrative science, and all its processes should be based on fixed laws, and be governed by positive inductions. Then, and not till then, will it deserve to be ranked among the exact sciences, and contemplated as a liberal art.

"Truth is stationary; it never progresses. What was true in principle in the days of Adam is so still. To talk of progress in principle is ridiculous. Neither does a given practice progress. That which was ever intrinsically good is so still. To talk, then, of the progress in principles of medicine is absurd. We may learn the truth or error of principles, and the comparative value or worthlessness of practices; but the principles are still the same. This is our progress in knowledge, not the progress of science or art. The constant changes that have taken place in the adoption and rejection of various principles and practices have ever been an injury to the healing art. Both truth and falsehood, separately and combined, have been alternately received and rejected; and this is that progress which is made in a circle, and not in lines direct. The fault of the cultivators of medicine has been, not that they never discovered the truth nor adopted the right practice, but that they adopted wrong principles and practices as often as the right, and rejected the right as readily as the wrong. They have ever been ready to prove many, if not all things; but to cast off the bad and hold fast to the good, they seem to have had but little discrimination and power. They say truly, that the object of the healing art is to aid nature in the prevention and cure of her diseases; yet, in practice, they do violence to nature in the use of the lancet and poison."

We are told by the professors of allopathy that their medicines constitute a class of deadly poisons, (see "Pocket Pharmacopœia;") "that, when given with a scientific hand, in small doses, they cure disease." We deny their power to cure. If antimony, corrosive sublimate, &c., ever proved destructive, they always possess that power, and can never be used with any degree of assurance that they will make a sick animal well. On the other hand, we have abundant every-day evidence of their ability to make a well animal sick at any time. What difference does it make whether poisons are given with a scientific or an unscientific hand? Does it alter the tendency which all poisons possess, namely, that of rapidly depriving the system of vitality?

The veterinary science was ushered into existence by men who practised according to the doctrines of the theoretical schools. We may trace it in its infancy when, in England, in the year 1788, it was rocked in the cradle of allopathy by Sainbel, its texture varying to suit the skill of Clark, Lawrence, Field, Blaine, and Coleman; yet with all their amount of talent and wisdom, their pupils must acknowledge that the melancholy triumph of disease over its victims clearly evinces that their combined stock of knowledge is insufficient to perfect the veterinary science. Dr. J. Bell says, "Anatomy is the basis of medical skill;" yet, in another part of his work he says, "It enables the physician to GUESS at the seat, or causes, or consequences of disease!" This is what we propose hereafter to call the science—the science of guessing! If such is the immense mortality in England, (amounting, as Mr. Youatt states, in loss of cattle, alone, to $50,000,000,)—a country that boasts of her veterinary institutions, and embraces within her medical halo some of the brightest luminaries of the present century,—what, we ask, is the mortality in the United States, where the veterinary science scarcely has an existence, and where not one man in a hundred can tell a disease of the bowels from one of the lungs? Profiting by the experience of these men, we are in hopes to build up a system of practice that will stand a tower of strength amid the rude shock of medical theories. We have discovered that the lancet is a powerful depressor of vitality, and that poisons derange, instead of producing, healthy action. That they are generally resorted to in this country, no one will deny, and often by men who are unacquainted with the nature of the destructive agents they making use of.

Hence our business, as reformers, is to expose error, and disseminate true principles. In doing so, we must be guided by the light of reason, and interpret aright the doctrines of nature as they are written by the Creator on the tablets of the whole universe, animate and inanimate.

In our reformed practice, we have true principles to guide us, which no man can controvert; for they are based on the recognition of a curative power in nature, identical with the vital principle, and governed by the same laws that control its action in the healthy state. While, therefore, this system must not change, it may improve; and while it remains on the same foundation, it should progress.

The necessity of aiding nature, in all our modes of medication, is the only true principle which should guide us. This we do by the aid of medicines known to be harmless, at the same time paying proper attention to diet, ventilation, exercise, &c., rejecting all processes of cure that depress the vital energy, or destroy the equilibrium of its action.

Our reformed principles teach us that, "Fever is the same in its essential character, under all circumstances and forms which it exhibits. The different kinds, as they are called, are but varieties of the same condition, produced by variations in the prevailing cause, or the strength of vital resistance, or some other peculiarity of the patient. Facts in abundance might be stated to justify this position. Again, fever is not to be regarded as disease, but as a sanative effort; in other words, as an increased or excited state of vital action, whose tendency is to remove from the system any agents or causes that would effect its integrity. Or, perhaps, it might be more properly said, that fever is the effect, or symptom, of accumulated vital action—an index pointing to the progress of causes, operating to ward off disease and restore health.

"Our indications of cure and modes of treatment are to be learned from those manifestations of the vital operations uniformly witnessed in the febrile state. If fever marks the action of the healing power of nature, which we must copy to be successful, why should we not consult the febrile phenomena for our rule of action? Now, what are the indications of cure which we derive from this source? In other words, what are the results which nature designs to accomplish through the instrumentality of fever? They are, an equilibrium of the circulation, a properly-proportioned action of all the organs, and an increased depuration of the system, principally by cutaneous evacuations."

Suppose the resistance of some local obstruction, as, for example, an accumulation of partly digested food in the manyplus of the ox, and, for want of a due portion of the gastric fluids to soften the mass and prevent friction, it irritates the mucous covering of the laminæ. The result is inflammation, (local fever,) then general excitement, manifested in an increased state of the circulation generally. The consequences of this general excitement of the mass of the circulation are, a more equal distribution of the blood, and the stimulation of every organ to do a part, according to its capacity, in removing disease. In such cases, the cattle doctors, generally, suppose that the inflammation is confined to the part, (manyplus;) yet it is evident that nature has marshalled her forces and produced a like action on the external surface. How can we prove that this is the case? By the heat, and red surfaces of the membrane lining the nostril, by the accelerated pulse, thirst, &c. Without heat there is no vitality in the system. Now, if the surface be hot, it proves that a large quantity of blood is sent there for the purpose of relieving the deranged internal organ. Hence the reader will perceive, that the cattle doctor whose creed is, "The more fever, the more blood-letting," must be one of the greatest opponents nature has to deal with. Then it is no wonder that so many cattle, sheep, and oxen die of fever. The practice of purging, in such a case, would be almost as destructive as the former; for many articles used as purges act on the mucous surfaces of the alimentary canal as mechanical irritants. Nature would, in this case, have to recall her forces from the surface, and concentrate them in the vicinity of parts where they were not wanted, had not man's interference conflicted with her well-planned arrangement, and made her "turn a somerset." When the increased action and heat are manifested on the surface, does it not prove that the different organs are acting harmoniously in self-defence? And is not this action manifested through the same channels in a state of health? Then why call it disease?

If obstructions exist as the cause of fever, will the mode of evacuation be different from that of health? Certainly not. Hence the marked tendency of fever to evacuation by the skin or the bowels; the former by perspiration, and the latter by diarrhœa. Fever, then, is a vital action, and the reformers have correct principles. On the other hand, the allopathists tell us that they know very little about fever, but that it is disease, and they treat it as such; hence, then, five, ten, and fourteen days' fever, and often the death of the patient.

Our treatment is not directed with a view of combating the fever: we generally aid it by following the indications which it presents; and we often find it necessary, although the surface of the animal shall be hot, and feverish symptoms appear, to use stimulants, (not alcoholic,) combined with antispasmodics and relaxants. (See Stimulants, in the Appendix.) This class of medicines, aided by warmth and moisture, favors the cutaneous exhalation, and promotes the free and full play of all the functions.

That the allopathist has but few principles to guide him is evident from the following quotations:—

Veterinary surgeon Haycock says, "The profession may flatter itself that it is advancing: for my part, however, I see little or no advancement. Our labors, for the last ten years, have been little more than a repetition of what has gone before. Our books are things of shreds and patches; the system which is followed in the investigation of disease, in the treatment of disease, and in the reporting of it, is altogether so crude and barbarous, that I am thoroughly ashamed of the whole matter.

"I have heard much noise about a charter, [which, we presume, means a charter by which men may be licensed to kill secundum artem, and 'no questions ASKED,'] the clamor of which may be compared to the rattling of peas in a dried bladder, or to a storm in a horse-pond. I have also read much which has been said about the spirit of this charter. Until I am convinced that it is the best term which can be applied to it, verily the whole is a spirit; for no one, I am persuaded, has ever yet discovered the substance.[3] It is not charters that we want, but it is that quiet spirit of earnestness which characterizes the true laborer on science. We require men who will labor for the advancement of the profession from the pure love of the thing; we want, in fact, a few John Fields, or men who know how to work, and who are possessed of the will to do it."

We hear a great deal said about sending young men from this country to Europe to acquire the principles of the veterinary art, with a view to public teaching. Now, it appears to us that the United States can boast of as great a number of talented physicians, as well qualified to soon learn and understand the fundamental principles of the veterinary art, as their brethren of the old world. There is no country, probably, that can boast of such an amount of talent, in every department of literature and art, in proportion to the population, as the United States. We know that the veterinary art, with one exception, had its existence from human practitioners, received their fostering care and attention, and grew with their growth. Have we not the materials, then, in this country, to educate and qualify young men to practise this important branch of science? Most certainly. Just send a few to us, for example, and if we do not impart to them a better system of medication than that practised in Europe, by which they will be enabled to treat disease with more success and less deaths, then we will agree to "throw physic to the dogs," and abandon our profession.

The greatest part of the most valuable time of the students of veterinary medicine is devoted to the study of pathology, in such a manner as to afford little instruction. For example, we are told that in "Bright's" disease of the kidneys they have detected albumen. What does this amount to? Does it throw any rational light on the treatment other than that proposed by us, of toning up the animal, and restoring the healthy secretions? They have studied pathology to their hearts' content; yet any intelligent farmer in this country, with a few simple herbs, can beat them at curing disease. We would give details, were it necessary. Suffice it to say, that it is done here every day, and often through the aid of a little thoroughwort tea, or other harmless agent. The pathologist may discover alterations in tissues, in the blood, and the various organs, and tell us that herein lie the cause and seat of disease; yet these changes themselves are but results, and preceding these were other manifestations of disorder; therefore pathology must always be imperfect, because it is a science of consequences.

The most powerful microscopes have been used to discover the seat of disease; yet this has not taught us to cure one single disease hitherto incurable.

The old school boast that their whole system of blood-letting, purging, and poisoning is based on enlightened experience! yet their victims have often discovered, by dear-bought "experience," (many of whom are now doing penance with ulcerated gums, rotten teeth, and fœtid breath,) that, however valuable this "experience" may be to the M. D.'s, they, the recipients, have not derived that benefit which they were led to expect would accrue to them. From what has already been written in this work, the reader, provided he divests himself of all prejudice, will perceive that allopathic experience is not to be trusted, for their principles are false; hence their experience is also false. Professor Curtis, to whom we are indebted for much valuable information, says, "Do not the old school argue that the most destructive agents in nature may be made to 'aid the vital forces in the removal of disease by the judicious application of them'? Does not Professor Harrison say, that the lancet is the great anti-inflammatory agent of the materia medica, that opium is the magnum Dei donum (the great gift of God) for the relief of pain, and that mercury is the great regulator of all the secretions?"

Anatomy and physiology are now being taught in our public schools. The people will, ere long, constitute themselves umpires to decide when doctors disagree. We apprehend it will then be hard work to convince the intelligent and thinking part of the community that poisons and the lancet are sanative agents.

FOOTNOTES:

INFLAMMATION.

Inflammation has generally been considered the great bugbear of the old school, and the scarecrow of the cattle doctor. But what do they know about it? Let us see.

Dr. Thatcher says, "Numerous hypotheses or opinions respecting the true nature and cause of inflammation have for ages been advanced, and for a time sustained; but even at the present day, the various doctrines appear to be considered altogether problematical."

Professor Percival says, "Inflammation consists in an increased action of the arteries, and may be either healthy or unhealthy[4]—a distinction that appears to relate to some peculiarity of the constitution."

We find inflammation described by most old school authors as disease, and they treat it as such. Professor Payne says, "A great majority of all the disorders to which the human frame is liable begin with inflammation, or end in inflammation, or are accompanied by inflammation in some part of their course, or resemble inflammation in their symptoms. Most of the organic changes in different parts of the body recognize inflammation as their cause, or lead to it as their effect. In short, a very large share of the premature extinctions of human life in general is more of less attributable to inflammation."

The term inflammation has long been employed by medical men to denote the existence of an unusual degree of redness, pain, heat, and swelling in any of the textures or organs of which the body is composed. Professor Curtis says, "But as inflammation sometimes exists without the exhibition of any of these symptoms, authors have been obliged to describe it by its causes, in attendant symptoms, and its effects. It is not more strange than true, that, after studying this subject for, as they say, four thousand years, experimenting on it and with it, and defining it, the sum of all their knowledge and definitions is this—inflammation in the animal frame is either a simple or compound action, increased or diminished, or a cessation of all action; it either causes, or is caused, or is accompanied, by all the forms of disease to which the body is subject; it is the only agent of cure in every case in which a cure is effected; it destroys all that die, except by accident or old age; it is both disease itself, and the only antidote to disease; it is the pathological principle which lies at the base of all others; it is that which the profession least of all understand."

Who believes, then, that the science of medicine is based on a sure foundation?

The following selections from the allopathic works will prove what is above stated.

"Pure inflammation is rather an effort of nature than a disease; yet it always implies disease or disturbance, inasmuch as there must be a previous morbid or disturbed state to make such an effort necessary."—Hunter, vol. iv. pp. 293, 294.

"As inflammation is an action produced for the restoration of the most simple injury in sound parts which goes beyond the power of union by the first intention, we must look upon it as one of the most simple operations in nature, whatever it may be when arising from disease, or diseased parts. Inflammation is to be considered only a disturbed state of parts, which requires a new but salutary mode of action to restore them to that state wherein a natural mode of action alone is necessary. Therefore inflammation in itself is not to be considered a disease, but a salutary operation consequent either to some violence or to some disease."—Ibid. vol. iv. p. 285.

"A wound or bruise cannot recover itself but by inflammation."—Ibid. p. 286.

"From whatever cause inflammation arises, it appears to be nearly the same in all; for in all it is an effort intended to bring about a reinstatement of the parts to their natural function."—Ibid. p. 286.

Results of Inflammation.—"Inflammation is said to terminate in resolution, effusion, adhesion, suppuration, ulceration, granulation, cicatrization, and mortification. All these different terminations, except the last, may be regarded as so many vital processes, exerted in different parts of the animal economy."—Prof. Thompson, p. 97.

"Inflammation must needs occupy a large share of attention of both the physician and the surgeon. In nine cases out of ten, the first question which either of them asks himself, on being summoned to the patient, is, Have I to deal with inflammation here? It is constantly the object of his treatment and watchful care. It affects all parts that are furnished with blood-vessels, and it affects different parts very variously.... It is by inflammation that wounds are closed and fractures repaired—that parts adhere together when their adhesion is essential to the preservation of the individual, and that foreign and hurtful matters are conveyed out of the body. A cut finger, a deep sabre wound, alike require inflammation to reunite the divided parts. Does ulceration occur in the stomach or intestines, and threaten to penetrate through them—inflammation will often forerun and provide against the danger—glue the threatened membrane to whatever surface may be next it.... The foot mortifies, is killed by injury or by exposure to cold—inflammation will cut off the dead and useless part. An abscess forms in the liver, or a large calculus concretes in the gall-bladder: how is the pus or the calculus to be got rid of?... Partial inflammation precedes and prepares for the expulsion; the liver or the gall-bladder becomes adherent to the walls of the abdomen on the one hand, or to the intestinal canal on the other; and then the surgeon may plunge his lancet into the collection of pus, or the abscess; or the calculus may cut its own way safely out of the body, through the skin or into the bowels."—Watson, p. 94.

"The salutary acts of restoration and prevention just adverted to, are such as nature conducts and originates. But we are ourselves able, in many instances, to direct and control the effect of inflammation—nay, we can excite it at our pleasure; and, having excited it, we are able, in a great degree, to regulate its course. And for this reason it becomes, in skilful hands, an instrument of cure."—Ibid. p. 94.

The above quotations are not complete. They are selections from the sources whence they are drawn of those portions which testify that fever and inflammation are one and the same thing, and that this same thing consists in a salutary effort of nature to protect the organs of the body from the action of the causes of disease, or to remove those causes and their effects from the organs once diseased. That the same authors teach the very contrary of all this in the same paragraphs, and often in the same sentences, the following extracts will clearly prove:—

Inflammation produces disease.—"When inflammation cannot accomplish that salutary purpose, (a cure,) as in cancer, scrofula, &c., it does mischief."—Hunter, p. 285.

"Inflammation is occasionally the cause of disease."—Ibid. p. 286.

"In one point of view, it may be considered as a disease itself."—Ibid.

"It may be divided into two kinds, the healthy and the unhealthy.... The unhealthy admits of a vast variety," &c.—Ibid.

"Inflammation often produces mortification or death in the inflamed part."—Ibid. vol. iv. p. 305.

"In the light of such authorities, it is surely not strange that no definite knowledge can be obtained of the nature, character, or tendency of inflammation. Of course, no one will dispute the proposition, that medicine, as taught in the schools, is a superstructure without a foundation, and should be wholly rejected."—Prof. Curtis.

If the regulars have no correct theory of inflammation, then their system of blood-letting is all wrong. This they acknowledge; for many with whom we have lately conversed say, "We do not use the lancet so often as formerly." One very good reason is, the sovereign people will not let them. Would it not be better for them to abolish its use altogether, as we have done, and avail themselves of the reform of the age?

The following remarks, selected from an address delivered by our respected preceptor, Professor Brown, ought to be read by every friend of humanity.

"The very air groans with the bitter anathemas the people pronounce upon calomel, antimony, copper, zinc, arsenic, arsenious acid, stramonium, foxglove, belladonna, henbane, nux vomica, opium, morphia, and narcotin.

"Hear their bitter cries, borne on every breeze, 'Help! help! help!' See the dim taper of life; it glimmers—'tis gone! Vitality struggled, and struggled manfully to the last. The poisonous dose was repeated, till the citadel was yielded up.

"The doctor arrives and attempts to comfort and quiet the broken-hearted widow, and helpless, dependent, fatherless children, by recounting the frailties of poor human nature, and reminding them of the fact that all men must die.

"And thus the work of death goes on: the tenderest ties are severed; children are left fatherless; parents are bereaved of their children; families are reduced to fragments; society deprived of her best citizens, and the world filled with misery, confusion, and poverty, in consequence of an evil system of medication....

"The ball is in motion, the banner of medical reform waves gracefully over our beloved country. Hosts of the right stripe are coming to the rescue. Poisons are condemned, the lancet is growing dull, the effusion of blood will soon cease, the battles are half fought, and the victory is sure.... While we would have you adhere to the well-established, fundamental principles of reformed medical science, as taught in this school, we would have you recollect that discoveries in knowledge are progressing.... Never entertain the foolish, absurd, and dangerous idea, that because you have been to college, you have learned all that is to be learned—that your education is finished, and you have nothing more to learn. The college is a place where we go to learn how to learn, and the world is the great university, in which our educational exercises terminate with our last expiring breath."

The author craves the reader's indulgence for introducing Dr. Brown's remarks at this stage of the work. It is intended for a class of readers (the farmers) who have not the time to make themselves acquainted with all that is going on in the medical world. We aim to make the book acceptable to that class of men. If we fail, the fault is in us, not in our subjects.

FOOTNOTES:

REMARKS,

SHOWING THAT VERY LITTLE IS KNOWN OF THE NATURE AND TREATMENT OF DISEASE.

Mr. Percival details a case of peritonitis,[5] after the usual symptoms in the early stage had subsided. "The horse's bowels became much relaxed: suspecting that there was some disorder in the alimentary canal, and that this was an effort of nature to get rid of it, I promoted the diarrhœa by giving mild doses of cathartic medicine, in combination with calomel!" [Nature did not require such assistance: warm drinks, composed of marshmallows, or slippery elm, would have been just the thing.]

"On the third day from this, prolapsus ani (falling of the fundament) made its appearance. After the return of the gut, the animal grew daily duller, and more dejected, manifesting evident signs of considerable inward disorder, though he showed none of acute pain; the diarrhœa continued; swelling of the belly and tumefaction of the legs speedily followed: eight pounds of blood were drawn, and two ounces of oil of turpentine were given internally, and in spite of another bleeding, and some subordinate measures, carried him off [the treatment, we presume] in the course of a few hours.

"Dissection: a slight blush pervaded the peritoneum; at least the parietal portion of it, for the coats of the stomach and intestines preserved their natural whiteness. About eight gallons of water were measured out of the belly.[6] The abdominal viscera, as well as the thoracic, showed no marks of disease."

We have stated, in the preceding pages, that the farmers can generally treat some cases of disease, by simple means, with much better success than some of the regulars; yet there are exceptions. Some of them have been inoculated with the virus of allopathy; and when an animal is taken sick, and manifests evident signs of great derangement, they seem to suppose that the more medicine they cram down the better, forgetting, perhaps not knowing, that the province of the physician is to know when to do nothing. Others err from want of judgment; and if they have an animal sick, they send for the neighbors; each one has a favorite remedy; down go castor oil, aloes, gin and molasses, in rapid succession. "He has inflammation of the insides," says one; "give him salts." No sooner said than done; the salts are hurried down, and, of course, find their way into the paunch. These, together with a host of medicines too numerous to mention, are tried without effect: all is commotion within; fermentation commences; gas is evolved; the animal gives signs of woe. As a last resort, paunching, bleeding, &c., follow; perhaps the horns are bored, or some form of barbarity practised, and the animal dies under the treatment.

A case similar to the above came under our notice a few months since. A cow, of a superior breed, was sent a few miles into the country to winter. Having always had the very best of feed, the owner gave particular instructions that she should be fed accordingly; instead of which, however, she was fed on foxgrass and other indigestible matter, in consequence of which she was attacked with acute indigestion, (gastric fever, as it is generally called,) more popularly known, in barn-yard language, as a "stoppage." A man professing to understand cow-doctoring was sent for, who, after administering "every thing he could think of" without success, gave a mixture of hog's lard and castor oil. When asked what indication he expected to fulfil, he replied, "My object was to wake up the cow's ideas"! Unfortunately, he awoke the wrong ideas; for the cow died. On making a post mortem examination, about half a bushel of partly-masticated foxgrass was found in the paunch, and the manyplus was distended beyond its physiological capacity. On making an incision into it, the partly-digested food was quite hard and dry, and the mucous covering of the laminæ—even the laminæ themselves—could be detached with the slightest force. The farmer will probably inquire, What ought to be done in such cases? Before we answer the question, a few remarks on the nature of the obstruction seem to be necessary.

In the article Description of the Organs of Digestion, the reader will learn the modes by which the food reaches the different compartments of the stomach. In reference to the above case, the causes of derangement are self-evident, which will be seen as we proceed. The animal had, previous to the journey, (thirty miles,) received the greatest care and attention; in short, she had been petted. Being pregnant at the time, the stomach was more susceptible to derangement than at any other time. The long journey could not act otherwise than unfavorably: first, because it would fatigue the muscular system; secondly, because it would irritate the nervous. Here, then, are the first causes; and it is important, in all cases of a deviation from health, to ascertain, as near as possible, the causes, and remove them. This is considered the first step towards a cure. If we cannot remove the causes, we are enabled, by an inquiry into them, to adopt the most efficient means for the recovery of the animal. The animal having had a bountiful meal before starting on the journey, and not being allowed sufficient time to remasticate, (rumination is partially or totally suspended during active exercise,) probably, combined with the above causes, an acute attack of the stomach set in—subsided after a few days, and left those organs in a debilitated state. The sudden change in diet also acted unfavorably, especially as the foxgrass required more than ordinary gastric power to reduce it to a pulpy mass, fit to enter the fourth, or true digestive stomach. For want of a due share of vital action in the abomasum, (fourth stomach,) it was unable to perform its part in the physiological process of digestion; hence the accumulation found in the manyplus. The causes of the detachment of laminæ, and the blanched appearances,—for it was as white as new linen,—were partly chemical and partly mechanical. The mechanical obstruction consisted in over-distention of the manyplus from food, thereby obstructing the circulation of the blood through its parietes, (walls,) and depriving it not only of nutriment, from the nerves of nutrition, but paralyzing its secretive function. It then became a prey to chemical action and decomposition. The indications of cure were, to arouse the digestive organs by stimulants, then by anti-spasmodic, relaxing, and tonic medicines, (for which see Appendix:) the digestive organs would probably have recommenced their healthy action, and the life of the animal might have been saved. Oil and grease, of every description and kind, are not suitable remedies to administer to cattle when laboring under indigestion; for at best their action is purely mechanical, and cannot be assimilated by the nutritive function so as to act medicinally. Linseed oil is, however, absorbed and diffused. If the animal labors under obstinate constipation, and it is evident that the obstruction is confined to the intestines, then we may resort to a dose of oil.

The reader will perceive the benefits to be derived from a knowledge of animal physiology and veterinary medicine, when based upon sound principles and common sense. He will also see the importance of having educated and honorable men employed in cattle-doctoring. No doubt there are such; but surely something is "rotten in Denmark;" for we are repeatedly told by our patrons that they "judge of the merits of the veterinary art by the men they find engaged in it."

Scientific Treatment of Colic, or Gripes.—"On the 5th September, 1824, a young bay mare was admitted into the infirmary with symptoms of colic, for which she lost eight pounds of blood before she came in. The following drench was prescribed to be given immediately: laudanum and oil of turpentine, of each, three ounces, with the addition of six ounces of decoction of aloes. In the course of half an hour, this was repeated! But shortly after, she vomited the greater part by the mouth and nostrils. No relief having been obtained, twelve pounds of blood were taken from her, and the same drink was given. In another hour, this drench was repeated; and, for the fourth time, during the succeeding hour; both of which, before death, she rejected, as she had done the second drink. Notwithstanding these active measures were promptly taken, she died about three hours after her admission." (See Clark's Essay on Gripes.) It appears that the doctors made short work of it. Twelve ounces of laudanum, and the same of turpentine,[7] in three hours! But this is "secundum artem" "skilful treatment"—a specimen of "science and skill," and justifiable in every case where the symptoms are "alarming." Let the reader, if he has ever seen a case of colic treated by us, contrast the result. Had the case been treated with relaxing, anti-spasmodic, carminative drinks, warmth and moisture externally, injections internally, and frictions generally, the poor animal would, probably, have been saved. We have attended many cases of the same sort, and have not yet lost the first one.

Extraordinary case of "cattle doctoring"!—which ought to be termed cattle-killing.—We were requested by Mr. S. of Waltham, December 18, 1850, to see a sick cow. The following is the history of the case: The cow, as near as we could judge, was of native breed, in good condition, and in her eighth pregnant month; pulse, 80 per minute; respirations, 36 per minute; external surface, ears, horns, and legs, cold. She had not dunged for several days. She was found lying on her belly, with her head turned round towards the left side. She struggled occasionally, and appeared to suffer from abdominal pain. She uttered a low, moaning sound when pressure was made on the abdominal muscles. The following facts were related to us by the owner, which we give in his own language. "I bought the cow, and drove her about 200 miles to this place. She had been here about a week, when I perceived she did not eat her feed as well as usual. She became sick about nine days ago, I thought it best to begin to doctor her! I employed a man who was reputed to be a pretty good cattle doctor. She got pretty well dosed between us, for we first gave her one pound of salts. The next day we gave her another pound. Finding this also failed to have the desired effect, we gave her one pound eight ounces more. She kept getting worse. We next gave her a quart of urine. She still grew worse. Two table-spoonfuls of gunpowder and a quarter of a pound of antimony were then given; still no improvement. As a last resort, we gave her eight drops of croton oil; a few hours afterwards, nine drops more were given; and a final dose of twenty drops of the same article was administered. The cow rolled her eyes as if she were about to die. I then called in the neighbors to kill her, when one of them advised me to come and see you." The reader will here perceive that we had a pretty desperate case; having been called in just at the eleventh hour. We may here remark that the cow had been under treatment nine days, during which time she had eaten scarcely any food, and passed but very little excrement. The medicine had been given at different stages during that period. There was evidently no accumulation of excrement in the rectum, for she had been raked and received several injections.

As we were not requested to take charge of the case, the owner being unwilling to incur additional expense, we, therefore, with a view of giving present relief, and fulfilling the necessary indications, ordered the following: