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Collection: Directories and Documents > Tanis Thorne Native Californian & Nisenan Collection

A Sojourn With Royalty (October 26, 1865) (13 pages)

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arrived, so the cork was drawn. A moderate dram sufficed for the occasion, and in due time we spread our blankets and turned in. The King seemed restless, for he kept rolling about, grating his boot against my shins--for the night was cold at that altitude, and we slept in our clothes and boots. "What ails your Majesty?" I inquired, half asleep, after his giving me unconscionable rake with his boot; "are you cold? Pull the blanket over you." "No, el Capitan--no cold--mucha sick." I roused up, when he began to groan, and placing his hands on his bowels, intimated that he had the colic, I have seen much of the world, but I never knew before that Kings had the colic. I knew enough of medicine to know what was a sure remedy for common people, but great folks, especially Kings and Queens, I had never made a postmortem examination of, and could not tell whether they had bowels like plain people or not. I had heard it said of great and rich men sometimes that they had no bowels of compassion, from which I infer that compassion, when it exists at all, has its locale in the bowels, and could be moved by proper remedies, and the patient saved. However, there are so few of our rich people troubled with this bowel complaint, that the disease seem dying out, and if compassion ever appears, it will be in some other part of the system. But we left Weimer groaning, and we must attend to him. “Sorms,” I asked, “do you suppose the King has got any bowels?” Storms turned over heavily, with a “Go to”—he did not say where, but soon began to snore. The case was desperate. I must try it. . always carry medicine when in the mountain wilderness, so I went to my bag and got a big dose of pills. The Monarch looked at them a moment, then at me, and then asked me to eat one. This was giving medicine with a vengeance. “No good—kill me—you eat ‘em one.” Seeing there was no other way, I put one into my mouth and swallowed it. “Other one,” said his Majesty—‘‘No kill you, him no kill me.” He looked at me with distrust. I had to take another." Now one more eat him." "Weimer," I exclaimed with warmth, while the nauseating stuff nearly made me vomit, "I'll see your kingly form in purgatory first. If you are. Sick I'll give you medicine to make you well, but I won't prescribe for you and take the medicine in the bargain;" and I made a