The Mysteries of London, v. 3/4Reynolds, George W. M. (George William MacArthur)
General
The Mysteries of London, v. 3/4
Reynolds, George W. M. (George William MacArthur)
London (England) -- Fiction; Penny dreadfuls
The first great object which we must keep in view, is to promote the
speedy evacuation of the stomach: if the poison itself has not
produced vomiting, from ten to twenty grains of sulphate of zinc must
be given if it can be readily procured; this generally acts as a
powerful emetic. If this, however, cannot be obtained, a mustard
emetic should be administered, and the vomiting promoted by drinking
large quantities of barley water, linseed tea, milk or tepid water:
the two first being of a mucilaginous nature are to be preferred;
tickling the back of the throat with a feather will often cause the
stomach to reject its contents. It frequently happens that this
treatment alone is sufficient for relief in accidents of this nature.
After the stomach has been cleansed by the emetic, &c., as described
above, lime-water, or chalk diffused in water, if it can be procured,
may be given in large quantities. Hahnemann has recommended soap to be
dissolved in water, in the proportion of a pound to four pints, and a
tea-cupful to be given every five or six minutes; this undoubtedly is
the best treatment if lime-water is not at hand. Powdered charcoal may
also be administered with advantage if the other remedies are not
immediately attainable. The above remedies may be used with some
degree of confidence, although their good effects are not sufficiently
certain to establish them as "antidotes."—_Ready Remedies in Cases of
Poisoning, &c. By James Johnson, M.R.C.S._
CHAPTER VIII.
SEVEN DIALS.
There is not in all London a more extraordinary locality than that which
bears the denomination of Seven Dials.
Situate in the midst of one of the lowest and worst neighbourhoods
throughout the metropolis, and forming a focus where seven streets,
converging towards that point, meet like as many streams flowing into a
common reservoir, the open spot of ground called Seven Dials is a lounge
for all the idle vagabonds and ill-looking persons, men and women, who
occupy the cellars and garrets in the vicinity.
From the centre of the open space alluded to, the eyes may plunge their
glances down into the circumjacent thoroughfares—narrow, dark, filthy,
and formed by dwellings of an appearance so miserable or so repulsive
that they equally pain the heart and shock the sight.
If the wanderer amidst the mazes of this vast city were desired to point
out the chosen abode of poverty and crime, taking as his guide the
physical aspect of all the worst neighbourhoods, he would probably
indicate Seven Dials and its branching streets.
The shops are all of the lowest and dirtiest description; nauseous
odours impregnate the atmosphere. In winter the streets are knee-deep in
mud, save when hardened by the frost; and in summer they are strewed
with the putrefying remnants of vegetables, offal, and filth of every
description.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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