The Laos materia medica embraces a considerable variety of medicines, nearly every one of which is supposed to be a specific in some disease; and, although his ideas of the medicinal qualities of these drugs may be entirely theoretical, not to say fanciful, the Laos doctor administers them just as freely as if he had experimentally demonstrated their physiological properties. The bones, teeth, blood and gall of the tiger, bear, elephant, rhinoceros and crocodile are among the most highly-esteemed remedies; besides their specific curative properties, these medicines impart the courage of the tiger, the stability, dignity and longevity of the elephant, the solemnity and tranquillity of the crocodile, the equanimity, contentment and philosophic indifference to external things and other virtues characteristic of the rhinoceros. Likewise, they eat the bones of the raven to protect them from evil spirits, and perhaps also to enable them to eat with impunity and relish of any dish; it is to be feared that certain purloining instincts of this bird have been communicated in this way! Patient observation and intelligent experimental investigation are entirely unknown to the Laos medicine-man; it is doubtful if he has, either by intelligent experiment or by accident, arrived at one solitary verifiable fact either in physiology or therapeutics; satisfied with his supposed stock of knowledge, he has no desire to increase it. When called to see a patient the Laos doctor states authoritatively what the ailment is; then proceeds to prepare a dose of medicine, which process it is interesting to watch. Seating himself upon a mat on the floor, he calls for the medicine-stone――a block of fine sandstone kept in nearly every house――and upon it rubs his drugs, which are carried in the crude form. The dose is composed of indefinite proportions of various roots, herbs and minerals, the teeth, bones, blood and gall of the tiger, bear, crocodile, etc., egg-shells, and anything else that the doctor may have; for, perhaps with a view to alternative conditions, he uses a portion of every drug he has, thus leaving slim chances of any unrecognized or latent symptom remaining untouched. The portions of the various drugs worn off by these rubbings are carefully washed into an earthen vessel, and water to the amount of about half a gallon is added; this makes one dose, or, in case the patient is not strong enough or is not of sufficient capacity, the medicine is to be administered in small doses――say half a pint or so――every half hour. This kind of treatment is continued for two or three days, or, if the patient is exceptionally vigorous, it may continue longer, a new doctor usually taking charge of the patient on each succeeding day. The attending physician usually remains by his patient day and night until it is decided to call in another doctor or until convalescence is established. If the patient grows worse, two or three doctors are