"Put out your tongue," continued the doctor.
The man ran out his tongue at full length.
"Let me feel your pulse;" at the same time taking his patient's hand in his,
and placing his fingers upon his pulse, he said,--
"Ah! your case is a bad one; ef I don't do something for you,
and dat pretty quick, you'll be a gone coon, and dat's sartin."
At this the man appeared frightened, and inquired what was the matter
with him, in answer to which Sam said,--
"I done told dat your case is a bad one, and dat's enuff."
On Sam's returning to his master's bedside, the latter said,--
"Well, Sam, what do you think is the matter with him?"
"His stomach is out ob order, sar," he replied.
"What do you think had better be done for him?"
"I tink I'd better bleed him and gib him a dose ob calomel," returned Sam.
So, to the latter's gratification, the master let him have his own way.
On one occasion, when making pills and ointment, Sam made
a great mistake. He got the preparations for both mixed together,
so that he could not legitimately make either. But fearing
that if he threw the stuff away, his master would flog him,
and being afraid to inform his superior of the mistake, he resolved
to make the whole batch of pill and ointment stuff into pills.
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