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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
31
"Nor
should
the
simple
domestic
virtues
be
neglected.
If
a
girl
desires
to
woo
you,
before
allowing
her
to
press
her
suit,
ask
her
if
she
knows
how
to
press
yours.
If
she
can,
let
her
woo;
if
not,
tell
her
to
whoa.
But
I
see
I
have
written
quite
as
much
as
I
need
for
this
column.
Won't
you
write
again,
just
as
before,
dear
boy?
"STEPHEN
LEACOCK."
How
to
be
a
Doctor
Certainly
the
progress
of
science
is
a
wonderful
thing.
One
can't
help
feeling
proud
of
it.
I
must
admit
that
I
do.
Whenever
I
get
talking
to
anyone--that
is,
to
anyone
who
knows
even
less
about
it
than
I
do--about
the
marvellous
development
of
electricity,
for
instance,
I
feel
as
if
I
had
been
personally
responsible
for
it.
As
for
the
linotype
and
the
aeroplane
and
the
vacuum
house-cleaner,
well,
I
am
not
sure
that
I
didn't
invent
them
myself.
I
believe
that
all
generous-hearted
men
feel
just
the
same
way
about
it.
However,
that
is
not
the
point
I
am
intending
to
discuss.
What
I
want
to
speak
about
is
the
progress
of
medicine.
There,
if
you
like,
is
something
wonderful.
Any
lover
of
humanity
(or
of
either
sex
of
it)
who
looks
back
on
the
achievements
of
medical
science
must
feel
his
heart
glow
and
his
right
ventricle
expand
with
the
pericardiac
stimulus
of
a
permissible
pride.
Just
think
of
it.
A
hundred
years
ago
there
were
no
bacilli,
no
ptomaine
poisoning,
no
diphtheria,
and
no
appendicitis.
Rabies
was
but
little
known,
and
only
imperfectly
developed.
All
of
these
we
owe
to
medical
science.
Even
such
things
as
psoriasis
and
parotitis
and
trypanosomiasis,
which
are
now
household
names,
were
known
only
to
the
few,
and
were
quite
beyond
the
reach
of
the
great
mass
of
the
people.
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