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‘The Time Hob Come,* j
the Walrus Mii . . . |
<■ _ — an i In England, so tfee story _ there’s a woman who can’t-cateh cold. Because she has never had a bad cold and the doctors can’t
give her one, she has ^become a ‘guinea pig” for medical
Tis to be hop plaining of her does complain, she should the exclamation given by the doc-« tor when a mother brought the baby to his office, saying, “Doctor, there must be something wrong with the baby: die never cries 1”
“Law, Madam!” was the doctor's reply, “You don’t know when you’re blessed!”
This English woman, according to newspaper accounts, has lived 45 years and never had a cold. Think what she’s missed! She’s never had the end of her nose raw with blowing and wiping; she’s never had a thousand little imps pounding on her bead, in her throat, on her chest; she’s never had her eyes smarting; and she’s never waked in the morning with her mouth feeling as if it had been scalded because she’s been breathing all night with a stopped—up nose!
That woman has been denied one of the world’s most abominable curses—the common head cold —and she is a nurse. She’ll not nurse me when I’m sick, for 1 know she cannot sympathize even to the smallest degree 1 Her existence has been one greater than the pampered darling of the weal
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