THE LAST FRONTIER 



rather fiercely. We surveyed the lot contempla- 

 tively, hoping to heaven that nothing complicated 

 was going to turn up. One of the tent boys hovered 

 in the background as dispensing chemist. 



"Well," said F. at last, "what's the matter with 

 you?" 



The man indicated pointed to his head and the 

 back of his neck and groaned. If he had a slight 

 headache he groaned just as much as though his 

 head were splitting. F. asked a few questions, and 

 took his temperature. The clinical thermometer is 

 in itself considered big medicine, and often does 

 much good. 



"Too much meat, my friend," remarked F. in 

 English, and to his boy in Swahili, "bring the cup." 



He put in this cup a triple dose of Epsom salts. 

 The African requires three times a white man's 

 dose. This, pathologically, was all that was re- 

 quired: but psychologically the job was just begun. 

 Your African can do wonderful things with his im- 

 agination. If he thinks he is going to die, die he 

 will, and very promptly, even though he is ailing 

 of the most trivial complaint. If he thinks he is 

 going to get well, he is very apt to do so in face of 

 extraordinary odds. Therefore the white man de- 

 sires not only to start his patient's internal economy 

 with Epsom salts, but also to stir his faith. To this 



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