CHAPTER XXV.
"THE POOR CHILD DIED." MY baby, nine months old, had some fever, and seemed very unwell.
One neighbor said: "You'd better send for the doctor." Another suggested that it had, no doubt, eaten something that disagreed with it, and that a little antimonial wine would enable it to throw it off; another advised a few grains of calomel, and another a dose of rheubarb.

But I said: "No.

I'll wait a little while, and see if it won't get better." "You should give him medicine in time.

Many a person dies from not taking medicine in time;" said a lady who expressed more than usual concern for the well-being of my baby.

She had a very sick child herself.
"Many more die," I replied, "from taking medicine too soon.