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DOCTORS, DOMESTIC REMEDIES, AND FUNERALS

    Our forefathers were subject to the same physical ailments as ourselves, but they do not appear to have suffered to the same extent from disease as we do in our day. The surgeon was rarely called upon to exercise his calling, and then only when amputation s were felt to be necessary, or some mutilated member needed mending. Fashionable operations were unknown. The vicious tendencies of the bacteria in the human body were not then discovered, or, if they had, war had not yet been declared upon them. Men went about their daily occupations, too busy to bother with the microbes that the modern scientists tell us are gnawing at our vitals. Their greatest fear was from epidemics like small pox, which occasionally swept through a neighbourhood, leaving a trail of sorrow in its wake. Of licensed practitioners there were but few; and they were, for the most part, attached to the military posts. Occasionally, if the roads were passable, and they felt in the humour and saw a prospective fee of respectable proportions, they might be induced to visit a patient in the neighbouring townships. In this, as in all other matters, the settlers did their best to serve themselves.

   In no community of this or any other age have there ever been lacking the services of skilled specialists in any line very long, before some unqualified individual volunteered to supply the lack. It was not long before the quack doctor with his vile decoctions appeared among the pioneers. Strenuous efforts were made to legislate him out of existence, but he managed to evade the statutory prohibitions and has even survived to the present day.

   During the first few decades of the Loyalist settlements it was not so much a question of whether the quack could practise in the townships *The first statute providing for the licensing of practitioners in physics and surgery throughout the province was passed in 1795. Up to that time the quacks had it pretty much their own way. The Act was found unworkable and was repealed in 1806; a new and more effective Act was passed in 1815., but the question more to the point was whether the educated and skilled physician would practise. The settlers had become so expert in treating most of their complaints, that they rarely deemed it necessary to secure the services of the medical practitioner; and, when the real physician did take up his abode among them, he not uncommonly engaged in some other calling as well and practised his profession as a side-line.

   The mother or grandmother, as a rule, was the doctor, nurse, and apothecary for the whole family. In the month of September, or perhaps October, when the phase of the moon was supposed to be favourable for the purpose, she organized an expedition to the woods in search of a supply of herbs to replenish her medicine chest. In some cases she dug in the ground for roots, in others the bark, leaves, or stems were sought, and in others still the fruit or seeds possessed the necessary medicinal properties. When she had gathered in her stores, she tied them up in bundles and hung them up in the attic, or stowed them away in some convenient nook until required. Her collection contained specifics for nearly every ache and pain.

   It may be that in those days there was not the mad rush for excitement and wealth, and the average citizen kept better hours, ate more plain and wholesome food, had some respect for the different organs of his body, and did not make such ridiculous demands upon them as are made by some of the high livers of to-day. It may be, too, that mother's simple remedies went a long way to correct the excesses and indulgences of the weak and careless and to restore the health of the sickly. In any event the mortality among the pioneers does not appear to have been any greater than it is to-day. It may not be out of place to enumerate some of the uses to which some of the common herbs were put, as they possess the same, if any, medicinal properties to-day.

   For coughs and colds, a syrup was made from the roots of the spignet, another name for spike-nard. The tuber of the blood-root was dried and then grated into a fine powder; this was snuffed up the nostrils as a cure for polypus. Catnip has lost little of its popularity as a medicine for children. There are few, if any, of us who have not protested vehemently against having our mouths pried open to receive a spoonful of tea made from the leaves of this common weed; the first symptoms of a stomach ache were sufficient to set the vile decoction brewing and almost any affection of the throat called for a dose of the same liquid.

   The word "tansy" is derived indirectly from a Greek word meaning "immortality"; because the yellow blossoms, when dried, lose very little of their original shape and colour. It is doubtful if the name had anything to do with the prescribing of tansy-tea as a tonic. It was extensively used for this purpose, and I can readily conceive a patient, after taking a dose, being quite ready to eat the first thing in sight to overcome the disagreeable taste left in his mouth by the medicine. Hop-tea for indigestion and cherry bark tea for regulating the blood were remedies widely known and extensively used.

   Reference has already been made to the danger of children falling into the tub of hot water used in scrubbing the unpainted floor. This and the open fire-place were sources of great anxiety to the mother of a young family. The frequency of severe scalds and burns from these causes created a demand for a soothing and healing salve. A favourite prescription was black alder, lard, resin and beeswax.

   Smartweed steeped in vinegar was applied to bruises and swellings where there was no abrasion; it gave instant relief from pain and reduced the swelling. For use upon dumb animals, particularly the legs of horses, wormwood was substituted for smartweed.

   For lame feet and other troubles requiring a soothing poultice, the leaves of the plantain were used. The stems and ribs were first removed, the leaves allowed to wilt and were then crushed by rolling them between the hands.

   A healing ointment for abrasions and open sores was made from the leaves of the ordinary garden bean. These were cut up, mixed with lard, and heated over a slow fire. While still hot, the liquid lard, which had absorbed some of the juice of the leaves, was poured off and allowed to cool, when it was ready to be applied to the affected part.

   Even the roots of the burdock, a most persistent and troublesome weed about most country homes, were put to an useful purpose. These were preserved by being dried, and when required were steeped and the tea thus produced was administered as a cure for indigestion and to regulate the blood.

   The mandrake, mandragora, or mayapple, has attracted much attention from the days of King Solomon to the present day. It has figured in literature in many capacities, all the way from a death-dealing agent to the main ingredient of a love potion. From its roots our forefathers made a tea which they used as a gargle for sore throat.

   The roots of the nerve-vine were chewed to quiet the nerves; hence the name. The roots of elecampane were utilized for man and beast; when steeped they produced a soothing and healing lotion for open wounds, and made into a syrup, were administered to children suffering from whooping-cough. Spearmint tea was given to "break up" a cold; and an infusion of mullein was administered to give relief in the more advanced stages of the same complaint. The more bitter the medicine, the more frequently was it prescribed. Thus wormwood tea was regarded as a general tonic to be given in almost all cases where other remedies failed.

   It was not at all uncommon for a plain and simple farmer, with no pretension to a knowledge of medicine or surgery, to acquire a reputation as a specialist in some particular branch of the profession. Perhaps in some emergency he would set a broken limb, with results so satisfactory that his services would be requisitioned in the next case of a similar character. His patients so successfully treated would proclaim his fame abroad, and with the little experience thus acquired he would, in the eyes of his neighbours, become an expert in this operation . Another may accidentally have had thrust upon him the distinction of being able to reduce a dislocated joint.

   Dentists there were none, and extraction was the only reliable treatment for troublesome teeth. Some one in the locality would own one of those instruments of torture, a turn-key. If a molar had been demanding too much attention from its owner, and a hot fomentation had failed to overcome the pain, the man with the turn-key was paid a visit. Anaesthetics were unknown, and sterilization was not practised by the unprofessional. The victim was seated in a kitchen chair and grasped the rungs on either side. The operator loosened the gum from the unruly tooth with the blade of his pocket-knife, the hook of the turn-key was inserted, and with grim determination the two men faced each other. The one clung doggedly to the chair, the other twisted the key. I will draw a curtain over the further details of the operation. Brute strength in the end prevailed.

   Such services were, as a rule, rendered gratuitously, and while we would not care in our day to be at the mercy of such amateur practitioners, yet they were a great benefit to the neighbourhood in which they resided, where it was frequently a choice of such aid as they could render or none at all.

   Of an entirely different class were the "fakirs" who, with little or no knowledge of the diseases they treated and the remedies they prescribed, preyed upon the helplessness of their patients. With such the two great specifics were opium and mercury - in all cases of doubt a dose of calomel was administered. Bleeding, as a remedial measure, was a very common practice, and it was not considered at all extraordinary to relieve a patient of a quart or two of blood at a time.

   The educational qualifications of the quack may be inferred from the following advertisement, which was posted up in a public place in 1817:

   "Richmond, Oct. 17, 1817.   "ADVERTISEMENT: - This is to certify that I, Solomon Albert, is Good to cure any sore in word    Complaint or any Pains, Rheumatick Pains or any Complaint what so ever the Subscriber doctors with yerbs and Roots. Any Person wishing to employ him will find him at Dick Bells.
"Solomon Albert."

   Mr. Albert's parents misjudged the possibilities of their hopeful offspring when they bestowed upon him his Christian name. He must have been quite exhausted after his literary effort in composing that advertisement.

   In due season the need for doctors and medicine was no more, and the grim reaper claimed his harvest. The undertaker had not yet risen to the dignity of a separate calling, and the plumed hearse was unknown. Simplicity and economy were the main features of the last sad rites; the nearest carpenter was furnished with a rough estimate of the proportions of the deceased, and, with plane and saw, he soon shaped a coffin out of basswood boards. This was stained on the outside or covered with a cheap cloth, and, with plain iron handles as its only adornment, it was ready for the corpse. It was not until well on into the nineteenth century that rough outer boxes were brought into general use.

   The funeral service was held at the residence of the deceased, after which a silent procession was formed and accompanied the remains to the grave, and in the winter season the silence was intensified by removing the bells from the horses and sleighs. The general regret over the loss of the deceased was measured by the length of the funeral procession.

   In some neighbourhoods there were public graveyards, as a rule in the rear of the church; but in many instances a plot was selected on the homestead, generally a sandy knoll, where a grave could be easily dug and there would be little likelihood of a pool of water gathering in the bottom. In such a lonely spot were laid the remains of many of our ancestors, with a wooden slab at the head of the grave. Upon this was painted a brief epitaph, with a favourite quotation from Holy Writ. In time the lettering yielded to the ravages of the weather, the paint was washed away, the board rotted, and the fence surrounding the reservation, if such there was, was broken down by the cattle. A careless posterity neglected either to remove the remains or to renew the wooden marker by a more enduring monument, until sentiment ceased to play its part in the respect for the memory of the dead. The farm was sold with no reservation, and the plough and harrow soon removed the only visible trace of the last resting-place of those who, in their time, played important parts in shaping the destiny of Upper Canada.`


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