I followed these two shining lights who I supposed had established Osteopathy on a correct basis. I started in to give specific treatments as I had been taught to do; that is, to hunt for the lesion, correct it if I found it, and quit, even if I had not been more than fifteen or twenty minutes at it. I found that in many cases my patients were not satisfied. I did not know just what was the matter at first, and lost some desirable patients (lost their patronage, I mean--they were not in much danger of dying when they came to me). I was soon enlightened, however, by some more outspoken than the rest. They said I did not "treat as long as that other doctor," and when I had done what I thought was indicated at times a patient would say, "You didn't give me that neck-twisting movement," or that "leg-pulling treatment." No matter what I thought was indicated, I had to give all the movements each time that had ever been given before. A physician who has had to dose out something he knew would do no good, just to satisfy the patient and keep him from sending for another doctor who he feared might give something worse, can appreciate the violence done a fellow's conscience as he administers those wonderfully curative movements. He cannot, however, appreciate the emotions that come from the strenuous exertion over a sweaty body in a close room on a July day. Incidentally, this difference in the physical exertion necessary to get the same results has determined a good many to quit Osteopathy and take up medicine. A young man who had almost completed a course in Osteopathy told me he was going to study medicine when he had finished Osteopathy, as he had found that giving "treatments was too d----d hard work." CHAPTER XI. TAPEWORMS AND GALLSTONES. Plug-hatted Faker--Frequency of Tapeworms--Some Tricks Exposed--How the Defunct Worm was Passed--Rubber Near-Worm--New Gallstone Cure--Relation to Osteopathy--Perfect, Self-Oiling, "Autotherapeutic" Machine--Touch the Button--The Truth About the Consumption and Insanity Cures. There is another trump card the traveling medical grafter plays, which wins about as well as the guaranteed rheumatism cure, namely, the tapeworm fraud. Last summer I heard a plug-hatted faker delivering a lecture to a street crowd, in which he said that every mother's son or daughter of them who didn't have the rosy cheek, the sparkling eye and buoyancy of youth might be sure that a tapeworm of monstrous size was, "like a worm in the bud," feeding on their "damask cheeks." To prove his assertion and lend terror to his tale, he held aloft a glass jar containing one of the monsters that had been driven from its feast on the vitals of its victim by his never-failing remedy. The person, "saved from a living death," stood at the "doctor's" side to corroborate the story, while his voluptuous wife was kept busy handing out the magical remedy and "pursing the ducats" given in return.