cold change in the weather, from motion, and in the evening.

Heavy, short breathing with oppression of chest in the evening. Sighing breathing. Pressure and constriction of the chest. Pressing pains in the walls of the chest. Violent stitching pains in the chest walls. Stitching pains in the region of fifth and sixth ribs. Painful soreness on touch or pressure on the floating ribs. Rheumatic pains in the chest. Chronic costal rheumatism. Soreness describing the attachments of the diaphragm. Inflammation of the diaphragm and pleura. Hydrothorax pains in chest from adhesions of the pleura. Sensitive as if inner parts were adhered. Pain worst from motion, in cold air, from becoming cold, on inspiration. Sensation of a cold wet cloth on going into cold air. Stitching pains every change of the weather from warm to cold. Sore spots here and there on the ribs. Pain in the region of heart from motion and inspiration and lying on left side. Rheumatic swelling of pectoral muscles with extreme soreness to touch. Pleurodynia with most violent cutting pains from inspiration, pressure, turning the body and cold air. Pulse full, hard and rapid in the evening and slow in the morning.

Sore spots in the spine. Pain along the inner margin of the left scapula. Stitching pains in the spine between the scapulæ. Pains in lower and inner margin of scapulæ in shoemakers. needle workers and writers from sitting bent. One scapulæ often becomes adhered to the back and it is immovable, and later burning pain comes on. Weak spine and great lassitude. Vesicular eruptions form upon the back and chest with blue contents, with severe pain.

Rheumatic pains, paroxysmal in character in the upper limbs. Stitching pains along the nerves in arms and hands. Tearing pains in forearm and hand. The pains are worse from cold, and worse from motion. Bluish vesicles in the palms and fingers. Seed wart on the thumb.

Stitching

Great weakness in lower limbs in forenoon. burning from the spine along the sciatic nerve in cold, wet weather and in stormy weather, worse from motion and in cold air. Drawing pain in the thighs. Rheumatic pain in knee, stinging and soreness in foot and toes. Corns very painful, sore

of touch, sting and burn. He suffers from complaints like chilblains.

He is late falling asleep. Sleepless from difficult breathing, from heat, and orgasms of blood.

Dark blue vesicles upon the skin.

Horny scurf forms after the vesicles have opened. It has been used for vesucular eruptions for burns; for herpes zoster; for pemphigus, for eczema. Flat burning, stinging ulcers. Horn-like excrescences..

NOTE: The two foregoing remedies were especially prepared by the author, Dr. James Tyler Kent, for this issue of The Critique, and are the most recent of this gentleman's writings.

TO ATLANTIC CITY IN SEPTEMBER.

It is hoped that every physician who can, will visit Atlantic City to attend the joint session of the American Institute of Homeopathy and the World's Congress of Homeopathic Physicians. The meeting commences Monday afternoon, September 10th, in Atlantic City, New Jersey, America's most famous watering place. A city of hotels and boarding houses, where the most fastidious can secure rooms, either single or en suite, with or without bath, or, where one can secure rooms and live either on the American or European plan. Special rates have been secured at the prominent hotels for members of the Institute and Congress and their famflies by the local committee of thirty-two, who are working night and day, shoulder to shoulder, for the success of this meeting.

They have made extensive arrangements for entertainment, meeting rooms, committee rooms, sectional rooms, exhibition rooms, press rooms, and meeting rooms for the ladies. Everything is being arranged by the various sections of the local committee, so that nothing will be left undone. There will be a public reception and hop on Monday evening on one of the five piers which has a seating capacity of 1,400 people. An Alumni Conclave will be held one evening, a smoker on one evening, and a banquet on Friday evening for everybody.

Opportunity for sailing, fishing, bathing and automobiling are excellent. Not the least of Atlantic City's attractions is the worldfamous board-walk, built in 1896 at a cost of $150,000, four miles long, forty feet wide, and recently widened to sixty feet for two miles of its length, giving ample opportunity for enjoying the ocean. breezes. Should any member of the Institute wish any information, the press committee, consisting of five members of the local committee, will be glad to give any information they can.

Drs. M. S. Lyon, T. J. Beckwith, W. G. Gardiner, G. G. Jackson and A. W. Barns, Atlantic City.

HOMEO-PATHY VS. ANTI-PATHY.

VIII. A PARODY OF THE PRODIGAL MIXER.*

By Guernsey P. Waring, M. D., H. M., 55 State St., Chicago.

Once there lived and died in Paris, not a nobleman or heiress,
But a true and honest doctor, who did Nature's laws adore.
He had long since been convicted, and had publicly predicted,
And announced to the afflicted, that there was a law of cure.
"Tis a law of cure," he uttered. It was heard from shore to shore,
Only this and nothing more.

Though he did his work so sanely, promulgated truth so plainly,
Met his critics, won his battles; many victories did he score;
Yet many a friend became a traitor, traditional medicine became a
hater

Of this philosopher and debater, because he proved his case, and

more,

By proving drugs he proved the law that like cures like forevermore, The law of similars forevermore.

The same to-day there are some traitors, some pessimistic, apathetic waiters,

Dabbling in unhomeopathic, palliating practice more.

After Hartman, Gram and Hering, with Lippe, Wells and Dunham stirring,

The art of healing to us transferring the mantle they so nobly wore, Now disgraced by modern mixers, the mantle they so nobly wore, Heaven forbid it-evermore.

This prodigal the worst offender either male or female gender, Home or abroad this "up-to-dater" plies his deception o'er and o'er, Away from home but may not know it, an allopath so smart to show it,

If any good does not bestow it upon his patients sick and sore, A wayward son or daughter, a Homeopath no more,

A prodigal mixer-nothing more.

Some in mutiny most disloyal look to friends like Kraft and Royal To befriend and to defend them in false teachings o'er and o'er, While "bastard" talk they keep repeating, true loyal work they are defeating,

Our noble cause they are depleting, depleting now as ne'er before. Yes, Halbert, Goodno, Price and Strycklin, with others like them more and more,

Give much false teaching-o'er and o'er.

Students seek Homeopathic knowledge, matriculate in a Homeo

College,

Often to hear the truth distorted until their hearts grow sick and

sore;

It's the indorsement, not the teaching; the advice to practice, not the preaching

Which makes the error so far-reaching-far-reaching from the class room door.

Professors often indorse error-error within the class room door. Bad mixer practice-nothing more.

The science bug infects the student, who otherwise might be more prudent,

Fills him full of modern makeshifts, which come and go as oft

before.

"Our teaching now is so prolific," "our laboratory tests so scien

tific,"

"We verify all things morbific," which "rational medicine" will

adore,

The science bug infecting, the modern student's life to bore,
Just for a short time-then nevermore.

Once or twice each generation, some "expert" springs old revelation, That potencies, above material doses, belong to old-time mystic lore. Modern mixers willingly perceive it, old-school doctors all believe it, Allopathic Homeo's, they receive it-accepted error long before, For the truth so often stated, demonstrated o'er and o'er,

Just accepted error-nothing more.

Hypodermic, thing of evil, instrument of man or devil,

Shooting, squirting poison products in the blood once red and pure, Regarding not the patient's sorrow, repeats the same thing on the morrow,

Such allopathic means to borrow, respecting not the law of cure, Palliating mixers borrow; see them do it o'er and o'er,

Palliation-nothing more.

Oh, he is a jolly mixer with hypodermic and elixir,
With automobile, case of serum, the patient's pockets to explore;
The ideal is to get dollars; horse-medicine his patient "swollers,"
Pull his leg until he "hollers," hollers "I have got no more!"
Then we have to do the curing, and take a pittance for our ore.
This jolly mixer-nothing more.

A stately matron, tired and weary, came to a mixer with this query:

"Must the functions of my sexhood repeat my sorrows o'er and o'er?" Oh, no, madam, (sure we'll fex her, while she waits we'll just un

sex her,

Then no more periods will perplex her, vex her as when babes she bore).

You may fill all social functions, missing none, as heretofore.

A surgeon mixer-nothing more.

This modern mixer's name is legion, some have practiced in this region;

In Cook county they're prescribing allopathic drugs galore,

With Epsom salts and Methylene blue, with iron, quinine, and

strychnia, too;

They calomel their patients through-through the morgue to the other shore,

Ne'er to return to meet the mixer from that far-off other shore.

Good-by, mixer-evermore.

You have seen this artful mixer with compound tablets and elixir,
Fixing up a combination with some good men-we deplore-
With men like Copeland, Ward and Custis, they aim to circumvent
and bust us,

And make all the world distrust us, distrust the Hahnemannian lore.

The Crusade steps in and says "No, sir! Your artful schemes we now explore."

This artful mixer-nevermore.

When we became so much disgusted we touched off the bombshell they had trusted, (

Then organized the true and loyal who are faithful as before.
R. H. M. stands for something better; we'll throw off the truth-
less fetter

And expose this money-getter, expose his shameful methods more;
An Allopath in mixer practice, a hypocrite, a constant bore,
A false doctor-nothing more.

Truth calls to-day for honest workers; stand back, ye mutinous, mongrel shirkers!

Are not volunteers responding to the call from shore to shore? Let's rally now "Lest We Forget" it, and deny some day we ever met it.

Ashamed of truth? Oh, you'll regret it; regret the time, the day

deplore.

Stand firm, be honest men and women, then there'll be nothing to deplore.

Clear conscience doctors-evermore.

*Read at the banquet given by the R. H. M. S., April 11, 1906, commemorating the 152nd birthday of Hahnemann.