If there is any
error, it is because you have already gone to church too much. I have
medicine to cure you."
At that he walked into another room and opened a secret door. I saw
him pour a liquid from a large bottle labeled, "Satan's Malaria Cure."
It contained a mixture of unbelief, ridicule, and self-righteousness.
He filled a small vial with sugar pellets and saturated them with the
mixture from the large bottle.
"Take four globules every hour," he directed, as he gave her the
medicine, "and I would further advise that you travel for your health."
"What climate would be most helpful to me?" she asked, for she was a
lady of considerable means and could go where she wished.
"A colder climate where you will be free from the noonday sun, and
breathe in a new atmosphere. This medicine will do the rest."
She passed out of the door just as a feeble man was entering. He was
an old pilgrim and evidently suffering much.
The doctor seized him by the hand with a strange vigor not even
understood by Mr. World.
"So you are under the power of 'La Grippe,'" saluted the doctor.
"Under the power of something, I am sure, for everything is wrong with
me, and everything seems wrong to me," was the slow answer.
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