Смешные рассказы / The Funny Stories

I ate pretty heartily; once I went to a stranger who had just opened his restaurant that morning. He waited near me in respectful silence until I had finished feeding my cold, when he asked if the people in Virginia were much afflicted with colds?

I told him I thought they were.

He then went out and took in his sign.[1 - He then went out and took in his sign. – Тогда он вышел на улицу и снял вывеску.]

I started down toward the office, and on the way met another friend, who told me that a quart of salt water, taken warm, would cure a cold in no time.

I hardly had room for it, but I tried it anyhow.

The result was surprising; I must have vomited three-quarters of an hour; I believe I threw up my immortal soul.

I believe, warm salt water may be a good enough remedy, but I think it is too severe. If I had another cold, and there was no way out but to take either an earthquake or a quart of warm salt water, I would be glad to choose the earthquake.

After the storm in my stomach I went back to handkerchiefs, as had been my custom in the early stages of my cold, until I came across a lady who said she had lived in a part of the country where doctors were scarce and had from necessity learnt to treat simple “family complaints.

I knew she must have had much experience, for she seemed to be a hundred and fifty years old.

She mixed a variety of drugs and instructed me to take a wine glass full of it every fifteen minutes.

I never took but one dose; that was enough.

Under its influence, my brain showed miracles of meanness, but my hands were too weak to execute them. Like most other people, I often feel mean, and act so, but until I took that medicine I had never felt proud of it.

At the end of two days, I was ready to go to curing again. I took a few more remedies, and finally drove my cold from my head to my lungs.

I got to coughing, and my voice fell below Zero. I spoke in a thundering bass two octaves below my natural tone.

My case grew more and more serious every day.

Plain gin was recommended; I took it.

Then gin and molasses; I took that also.

Then gin and onions; I added the onions and took all three.

I detected no particular result, however, except that I had acquired a breath like a buzzard’s.

I understood I had to travel for my health. I went to Lake Bigler with my comrade reporter, Adair Wilson.