There are
thousands, who groan on beds of pain, who are ignorant that for the
small sum of fifty cents they could be restored to health and
activity."
"That's a pity."
"It is a pity, Mr. ----"
"Walton."
"Mr. Walton,--I have called, sir, to ask you to co-operate with me in
making it known to the world, so far as your influence extends."
"Is your medicine a liquid?"
"No, sir; it is in the form of pills, twenty-four in a box. Let me
show you."
The doctor opened a wooden box, and displayed a collection of very
unwholesome-looking brown pills.
"Try one, sir; it won't do you any harm."
"Thank you; I would rather not. I don't like pills. What will they
cure?"
"What won't they cure? I've got a list of fifty-nine diseases in my
circular, all of which are relieved by Peabody's Panacea. They may
cure more; in fact, I've been told of a consumptive patient who was
considerably relieved by a single box. You won't try one?"
"I would rather not."
"Well, here is my circular, containing accounts of remarkable cures
performed. Permit me to present you a box."
"Thank you," said Harry, dubiously.
"You'll probably be sick before long," said the doctor, cheerfully,
"and then the pills will come handy."
"Doctor," said Ferguson, gravely, "I find my hair getting thin on top
of the head. Do you think the panacea would restore it?"
"Yes," said the doctor, unexpectedly.
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