is returned to the storage building immediately. Only by the exercise of such extreme caution can immunity from accident be assured. The third view shows a simple enclosure, seven feet high, within which is a small structure used for the storage of nitroglycerin, probably the most dangerous substance used in pharmacy. This fact may be illustrated by an incident that occurred in the Detroit laboratory of Parke, Davis & Co. many years ago. A wooden keg, containing the ten-percent alcoholic solution of nitroglycerin, had been received and the contents at once filtered into glass FIG. 3.-Where the nitroglycerin is kept and handled. The nitroglycerin house shown in the engraving is located at a considerable distance from other buildings. The door, and also the gate in the fence surrounding the house, are kept securely locked, and signs are conspicuously posted, forbidding workmen to pile rubbish of any kind against the fence, thus reducing the risk of fire. The cuts used to illustrate this paper are kindly loaned by Messrs. Parke, Davis & Co., on whose premises in Detroit the pictures were taken. AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE. One Man Does All the Talking This Month: He Speaks so Interestingly of His Civil War Experiences Hospital Steward" that the Other Bulletin "Yarnsters" are for Once Content to Listen. as a " INTERESTING CIVIL WAR REMINISCENCES. Theodore V. Brown, proprietor of the "Red Cross Drug Store," in San Jose, Cal., writes most fascinatingly of his experiences as "hospital steward" in the Army of the Potomac. Incidentally his narrative presents a most harrowing picture of the suffering caused by the insufficiency during the war, not only of trained medical officers, but of the medical knowledge and precautions of the period. The medical and sanitary science of the Russo-Japanese conflict of 1904-5, particularly on the Japanese side, is a very different thing from that of the Civil War of 1861-5. But here are Mr. Brown's reminiscences: The evident scarcity of logs for your camp-fire encourages me to offer you a quasi-pharmaceutical war story. In 1862 I was the warrior-pharmacist of the 3d U. S. Infantry (1st Brigade, 2d Division, 5th Corps, Army of the Potomac), my official designation being "hospital steward." My immediate superior was Surgeon-General Geo. M. Sternberg, U. S. Army, retired, who was then a young assistant surgeon, and whom I assisted at the battle of Malvern Hill, June 30, 1862, in amputating the arm of a soldier under a heavy artillery fire-a rather rare occur rence. Shortly after the Army of the Potomac reached Harrison's Landing on the James River, at the end of the so-called Seven Days' Battle before Richmond, camp dysentery and typhoid fever put in an appearance, and soon became formidable. Among the first to be taken sick were the surgeons of our brigade—all unseasoned young men. Dr. Sternberg left duty first, having contracted brain fever, and in about ten days more the brigade was left without a single medical officer. There was at this time a great scarcity of surgeons throughout the Union army, and as the next best makeshift I was ordered to collect all the sickest men of the brigade, house them in a near-by barn, and "do the best I could for them." This I did for about three weeks, having under my care a daily average of about 50 men, most of whom had typhoid fever, and many of whom died. TANNIN CHLOR POTASH C [Drawn for the BULLETIN by W. A. Humphries] O'NYE-OH MY!!! A drug clerk whose name was O'Nye An experiment wanted to try. Some tannin he got, And mixed with a lot Of chlorate of potash. Oh my!!! -FRANK FARRINGTON. My knowledge of therapeutics was at that time exceedingly limited, but I remembered that in a few cases of typhoid fever I had seen in hospitals, quinine, and turpentine emulsion, and milk-punch, made with condensed milk, had been used; hence all my fever patients were put on a ration of five grains of quinine, a tablespoonful of turpentine emulsion, and a tincupful of milk punch, t. i. d., without any deviation. Every Sunday morning Dr, Daly, surgeon-inchief of the division, would come galloping up to the barn. "Good morning, steward; how are you getting on ?" "Doing the best I can, doctor," would be my answer. "Well, that's all we expect of you. How many men have you lost since I saw you last?" Then, "What do you do for typhoid fever?" "I give them five grains of quinine, a tablespoonful of turpentine emulsion, and a cupful of milk punch, 3 times a day," I would answer. "That is very good: I could do no better. Continue that way." And he was off. I had nothing with which to feed sick men, outside the ordinary field ration consisting of hard tack, salt pork, beans, rice, coffee, and sugar, except condensed milk and beef extract. I did not then know that it was of the highest importance to restrict typhoid fever patients to a strictly liquid diet, and doubt whether the medical profession at that time was fully aware of it. But I knew that the poor fellows committed to my care were not properly fed, and it worried me. So when one day I was informed that two steamers, the medical purveyor's and the sanitary commission's, had just arrived at the Landing, laden with delicacies for the sick, I at once sat down, made out a requisition for all the luxuries, edible and drinkable, that I could think of, signed it as surgeon-in-chief of the brigade, borrowed two six-mule teams from my friend, the brigade wagon master, drove to the Landing, presented my requisition, and got nearly everything asked for, much to my surprise, for I had fully expected to be sent back in arrest and to be tried by court martial for investing myself with false rank and authority; but I had argued that after all I was the de facto surgeon-inchief, and the court-martial outlook had therefore no terrors for me. Then I kept the cook busy fixing up all kinds of dishes for the boys, and gave the sick all the baker's bread, steamed to keep, they wanted. Alas! instead of gaining strength they died the faster, and in about a week I made this entry in my diary: "Salt pork and hard tack is better for typhoid fever patients than better food, because the former will not be eaten and the latter will." One day, nearly a month after I had started on my therapeutic career in the barn, a tall, awkwardlooking man, with queerly protruding eyes, presented himself to me. "I am Dr. Hall," he said, "and have been given a contract and assigned to the 3d Infantry. I just reported to Captain Wilkins, the commander of the regiment, and he told me to come up here and you would put me through. Now I want to tell you right at the start that I am no doctor at all and never claimed to me. I am a student of medicine, and not far advanced at that, as you will soon find out, but they gave me a contract anyhow. I hope we'll be good friends and that you will help me all you can." It did not take long for both officers and men to find out that the man knew absolutely nothing. During an engagement he would scout the surrounding country, and come back to us occasionally to unload overcoats, blankets, pistols, etc., which he had picked up on the battlefield, leaving me to do the little that was done for the wounded at the front. one day at Rockville. On the afternoon of that day "Dr." Hall came to me: "There is a case of cholera in camp," he said. "What had I best do so that precautionary measures can be taken against the disease spreading?" "It can't be cholera," said I; "there is no cholera around. Where could it come from?" "It can't be anything else," persisted Hall. "Let's go and look at him," said I. "This is a case of cholera morbus," I declared, after we had examined the man as he lay in his little shelter tent. "I have seen a hundred cases like that?" "What did you used to do for them?" asked Hall. "Give 'em camphor, calomel, and opium, and put mustard plasters all over them," I answered. About five weeks after the battle of Antietam our division was ordered to occupy and hold Snicker's Gap, in the Blue Ridge, until the long trains of the Army of the Potomac should have passed that point. When we reached the Gap "Dr." Hall at once started out on a reconnaisance according to his wont, and had the good fortune to stumble upon a bridle path leading down to the Shenandoah River, where Longstreet's corps lay, and saw that the path would enable Longstreet, were he made cognizant of it, to march quietly to our rear and gobble up all Uncle Sam's regulars, without firing a shot. Hall at once sought General Sykes, our division commander, and reported his discovery, and a strong outpost was at once placed on guard over the bridle path. Dr. Hall pondered deeply for a moment, and then, as "surgeon of the regiment," ordered this prescription: After that it mattered little what "Dr." Hall did or failed to do-General Sykes protected him; and he continued as surgeon of the regiment until he was ready to leave, despite several petitions of the officers for his removal. On the march from Washington City to the battlefield of Antietam, in September, 1862, we lay over "Well, damn it, give it to him then." KILLS ALL PRINES WAH [Drawn for the BULLETIN by W. A. Humphries.] A MEDICINE MAN UP-TO-DATE. This room, to be found in the pharmacy of Andrew R. Cunningham, of Detroit, is one of the neatest and best equipped for dispensing purposes that is to be found boards. The shelving is then covered with green crêpe paper. In the center of each of the two groups of shelving, and resting upon the first shelf proper in each case, is a pillar surmounted by a round piece of plate glass, and bearing on the latter four bottles of the extract, thus varying the display somewhat. Similar groups are to be seen at the sides of the two figures in the window-making six in all. The window is a double one, and the display is practically the same on both sides. 161 on the outside, between the two windows, bears the following legend: "One of these Calendars Given with Every Purchase of a Half Dozen Bottles of Tonic." One or two other placards bearing practically the same announcement are to be found in the window. Then of course the calendars thus offered are also made the subject of display, particularly on the background previously referred to. The double window of Mr. Brundage is 51⁄2 by 18 feet in dimensions. |