Three Men in a Boat | Page 3

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Three Men in a Boat - Jerome K. Jerome - Scanned and First Proof
David Price, email [email protected] Second proof: Margaret
Price ***

THREE MEN IN A BOAT (TO SAY NOTHING OF THE DOG).

Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome

CHAPTER I.
THREE INVALIDS. - SUFFERINGS OF GEORGE AND HARRIS. -
A VICTIM TO ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN FATAL MALADIES.
- USEFUL PRESCRIPTIONS. - CURE FOR LIVER COMPLAINT IN
CHILDREN. - WE AGREE THAT WE ARE OVERWORKED, AND
NEED REST. - A WEEK ON THE ROLLING DEEP? - GEORGE
SUGGESTS THE RIVER. - MONTMORENCY LODGES AN
OBJECTION. - ORIGINAL MOTION CARRIED BY MAJORITY OF
THREE TO ONE.
THERE were four of us - George, and William Samuel Harris, and

myself, and Montmorency. We were sitting in my room, smoking, and
talking about how bad we were - bad from a medical point of view I
mean, of course.
We were all feeling seedy, and we were getting quite nervous about it.
Harris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at
times, that he hardly knew what he was doing; and then George said
that HE had fits of giddiness too, and hardly knew what HE was doing.
With me, it was my liver that was out of order. I knew it was my liver
that was out of order, because I had just been reading a patent liver-pill
circular, in which were detailed the various symptoms by which a man
could tell when his liver was out of order. I had them all.
It is a most extraordinary thing, but I never read a patent medicine
advertisement without being impelled to the conclusion that I am
suffering from the particular disease therein dealt with in its most
virulent form. The diagnosis seems in every case to correspond exactly
with all the sensations that I have ever felt.
I remember going to the British Museum one day to read up the
treatment for some slight ailment of which I had a touch - hay fever, I
fancy it was. I got down the book, and read all I came to read; and then,
in an unthinking moment, I idly turned the leaves, and began to
indolently study diseases, generally. I forget which was the first
distemper I plunged into - some fearful, devastating scourge, I know -
and, before I had glanced half down the list of "premonitory
symptoms," it was borne in upon me that I had fairly got it.
I sat for awhile, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of
despair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid fever - read
the symptoms - discovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it
for months without knowing it - wondered what else I had got; turned
up St. Vitus's Dance - found, as I expected, that I had that too, - began
to get interested in my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom, and
so started alphabetically - read up ague, and learnt that I was sickening
for it, and that the acute stage would commence in about another
fortnight. Bright's disease, I was relieved to find, I had only in a
modified form, and, so far as that was concerned, I might live for years.

Cholera I had, with severe complications; and diphtheria I seemed to
have been born with. I plodded conscientiously through the twenty-six
letters, and the only malady I could conclude I had not got was
housemaid's knee.
I felt rather hurt about this at first; it seemed somehow to be a sort of
slight. Why hadn't I got housemaid's knee? Why this invidious
reservation? After a while, however, less grasping feelings prevailed. I
reflected that I had every other known malady in the pharmacology,
and I grew less selfish, and determined to do without housemaid's knee.
Gout, in its most malignant stage, it would appear, had seized me
without my being aware of it; and zymosis I had evidently been
suffering with from boyhood. There were no more diseases after
zymosis, so I concluded there was nothing else the matter with me.
I sat