Our Nervous Friends — Illustrating the Mastery of NervousnessCarroll, Robert S. (Robert Sproul)
Science
Our Nervous Friends — Illustrating the Mastery of Nervousness
Carroll, Robert S. (Robert Sproul)
Nervous system -- Hygiene
Just then Baby looked at her mother, smiled and gurgled something
which was intelligible to mother-ears, and the wife's hand slipped
into the husband's, and the baby was named Minta Southard.
Where could a new baby have found a more perfect setting for her
childhood and girlhood? The plantation lay on both sides of the
Catawba River-fresh and crystal clear those days, as it sped down from
mountains to sea-fertile, fruitful acres there were, which never
failed to bring forth manyfold. Three times in as many generations,
the Manor House, as the rambling southern home had always been called,
had been enlarged, but nothing was ever done which lessened the
dignity lent by its fine colonial portico, the artistic columns of
which could be seen miles down the river-road. The Manor House was
good to see in its rare setting of stately water-oaks, now in their
full maturity.
For four years little Minta thrived and gave promise of bringing many
joys to this home which knew no shadow but the father's periodic
"business trips" to Charleston. Mammy Lou was her slave, and even
Georgia, who had her own way so much that she was far from unselfish,
asked, at times, to "take care" of her dainty sister, and would let
her play with some of her things without protest. Then the fever!
"Typhoid," the doctor said, "affecting her brain." Father, Mother and
Mammy Lou took turns being with her those long, hot weeks, when it
forgot to rain and the refreshing sea-breeze was cruelly withheld.
Doctors from Charlotte, doctors from Charleston and doctors from
Atlanta came, to look grave, to shake their learned heads, and to
sadly leave, offering no hopeful change in treatment. The fever was
prolonged over five weeks, and the child seemed more lifeless each day
as it left her drained and damaged-drained and damaged for life it
proved. So slowly her shadowy form gained, that a single week was too
short to evidence improvement. Six months, and she was not yet
walking. One year, and she was still fragile. Then, in a month, normal
childhood apparently slipped back, and she began to play and be merry.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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