"I was not born to be a doctor.
The patient seems to be no better." "It does not look like a very bad case," added the doctor, finding it necessary to say something, as he felt the pulse of the sufferer.
Though the lieutenant of the Bronx was not a physician, he was not altogether a pretender, for in the capacity of mate and temporary commander, he had done duty in the healing art in the absence of a more skilful person.
"A glass of water and a teaspoon," said he to the soldier-nurse; and they were promptly brought to him.
The doctor took from his pocket a small bottle of chloroform he had obtained from the big house, and dropped a quantity of it into the teaspoon.

Mixing it with a little water in a glass, he gave it to the patient, who swallowed it quickly in spite of its burning taste.
"Now a piece of flannel," added the doctor.
Upon this when it was brought he dropped a quantity of the chloroform, and applied it to the seat of the pain.

In a moment the soldier cried out against the burning heat of the remedy; but the practitioner insisted that it should remain a while longer.

But he relieved him of it in a short time.
"How do you feel ?" asked the doctor.
"Better; a great deal better," replied the patient.
In fact, in less than an hour he said he was entirely relieved from the severe pain.

He was very grateful to the doctor, whom no one suspected of being a Yankee gunboat officer.
"I had the same thing once before, and I was sure I should die with it this time," said the sick soldier, "It lasted me all night and part of the next day the other time." "I am afraid you did not have a very skilful doctor at that time," replied the practitioner with a smile.
Lieutenant Fourchon pressed the hand of the doctor, and left the casemate with him..