Nasby in Exile: or, Six Months of Travel in England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Germany, Switzerland and Belgium, with many things not of travel — John Locke — John Shaqi
Nasby in Exile: or, Six Months of Travel in England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Germany, Switzerland and Belgium, with many things not of travel
John Locke · en
Do you remember Dickens' Montagu Tigg in Martin Chuzzlewit? I used to
think it an overdrawn picture, but it is not. It is as correct a
portrait as was ever limned.
America has been deemed the paradise of the quack, but before England
she must pale her ineffectual fires. Next to beer, patent medicines
stare you in the face everywhere. The walls fairly shine with the
advertisements of remedies for every disease known to the faculty, and
when that supply runs out the ingenious proprietor invents a stock of
new ailments that never did exist, and inasmuch as the least of them are
six syllabled ones, it is to be hoped never will.
There are medicines for the liver, for the kidneys, for the lungs, for
the feet, for the head, for the ears, for the eyes, for the scalp, for
the hair, and for every part and parcel of the human body, and for every
animal that man has subjugated and brought subservient to his will.
There are certificates from Lords, and Dukes, and Honorables, as to the
efficiency of Hobson's Vermifuge, though with these it is always a
tenant's child that was cured, the scions of noble houses being of too
blue blood to ever have so vulgar a complaint. In case of gout, or any
genuinely aristocratic ailment, they are not so particular.
The advertisement of every remedy ends with the announcement:--
"As there are unprincipled parties in the kingdom who seize upon every
article of known merit, to imitate the same, the purchasers of Hobson's
remedies are respectfully requested to particularly observe the label on
the bottles. The name of "Hobson" is printed on the steel engraving, on
the face of the bottle, fourteen hundred and sixty-three times, and
without this none are genuine. Beware of fraudulent imitations."
And the British dame will stand at the counter and count the wearying
repetition, much to the disgust of the shopman, who, knowing that the
remedy is only three days old, and that there are no imitations, and
never will be, wants her to take her bottle of the stuff and move on and
make room for another victim.
[Illustration: "BEWARE OF FRAUDULENT IMITATIONS."]
[Sidenote: THE LONDON ADVERTISER.]