Stories - "Too Many Remedies for the "Jedge"

 

[Written for the Cambridge Press.]

Too Many Remedies for the “Jedge.”

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BY JOE CONE

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Great excitement prevailed throughout the quaint old-fashioned hamlet of R ------ which overlooks a wide expanse of the Long Island Sound, in the southern part of Connecticut. The Judge, an irritable old fellow, while on his way home from Sunday worship, had slipped on a small patch of ice and sprained his right ankle. The news spread like wildfire, and neighbor after neighbor dropped in to inquire all about it, and to suggest a thousand and one remedies to apply to the injured member.

The Rev. Giles Whitmole had called; told of a worse sprain that he had once received, then departed after uttering the following comforting words: “If anything serious should set in Judge, just send for me; you know it’s always best to be prepared for whatever comes along.” This had only increased the old man’s irritation.

Besides being “The Jedge,” he was a close calculating,hard-working farmer, and the thought of anything serious “settin’ in” was more than he could stand.

Another knock; this brought in the widder Slocum. “Oh my! how awful; you’d dorter jes take suthin’ hot Jedge an’ sweat it out; yes, Jedge, sweat it out, an’ – “ but here she was interrupted by the sailing in of Sally Pincher, one of those rapidly circulating village newspapers, who exclaimed: “For pity ashun sakes Jedge! How did it all happen? You’d better soak your feet an’ do ’em up in flannels, an’ take a good dose uv boueset tea or hot jermaky ginger an’ git right inter bed, or else – “ but she was cut off by the entrance of Dea. Lanker, who said: “Tew bad, Jedge, tew bad; might hev been wuss tho’; now ef I wus you I’d put on some uv Tom Bluker’s salve; I used it on my ol’ hoss an’ it took ther swellin’  all down, an’ – “ bang, bang, and in shuffled Squire Hogle, wo opened with: “Hem, sorry ter hear it Jedge, very sorry, but what are you doin’ for it? Know when I hurt my knee pan las’ fall, I got some uv that ere liniment o’ Sime Stradduck; it’s ther best stuff you ever seed Jedge, an’ its healin’ power is tarnal good.”

By this time the Judge was up to ‘bilin’ pitch,” and when the squire, followed by the rest, trooped out and someone squeaked out, “Be keerful, Jedge, an’ guard again’ ther lockjaw,” he brought his big hickory cane down upon the floor with a loud whack and exclaimed: “By ther ’tarnal snow-covered hay-stacks! Here Malindy, you tack this  ere cart thet I’m a writin’ on ther outside door.” It read as follows:

Danger!

Small pox set in.

Keep out.

East Cambridge, Mass.             Mar. 7, ’91.

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