“Do you really believe the present system is the only way of training medical men and medical women, for I recognise the right and advantage of women students?” “Your papa has often told me that a doctor can only be liberally educated by being enabled to draw his conclusions from a great number of facts; and, as each case has some peculiar feature, the more cases he sees, even of the same disease, the more the intelligent pupil will learn.” “I see the force of that,” replied Mildred, “but I think my scheme would meet it. I would make use of the great pauper infirmaries, at present entirely wasted, as schools of medicine.” “I fear they would prove very imperfect substitutes for the great hospitals. I am told, and I can readily understand it to be the fact, that the cases which gravitate to the parish infirmary are usually chronic diseases, old-standing bronchitic, asthmatic, and rheumatic troubles, with bed cases innumerable; and all of little or no use to the student.” “But wait, aunt; you have only heard of one side of my plan; it provides for a vast and efficient system of out-door treatment. I strongly object to rushing every troublesome phase of disease away from home, and placing it in a great hospital. My indoor scheme would only embrace such cases as could not wisely be treated in the family. What at present do you take to be the chief passport to a bed in a general hospital?” “The malady which has the greatest interest for the doctor who has power to admit it.” “Precisely. But, as it is not the doctors who support the hospitals, don’t you think the intentions of the subscribers are often defeated by this system? Is it not, in fact, getting money under false pretences to ask for funds to help sick folk, and then apply them to even so good a purpose as medical education?” “I think you put it too strongly, Mildred. The public does understand that in supporting the hospital, they are training their doctors.” “Then,” said Mildred, “the fraud is on the patients. Lady Ponsonby de Tompkyns gives a big cheque to the hospitals, that she may have confidence that no new remedies may first be used upon her. Like the lady of the Fly papers, who ‘Wouldn’t try ’em on her cat, If she could try ’em on another.’ You see, the public is in this dilemma—either they are deceived as to the way patients are treated, or if not then the poor sufferers are misled to their grievous hurt.”