But the
doctor had gone to Portland, and Addison came back without him.
Meanwhile a neighbor, Mrs. Wilbur, suggested putting an eyestone into
Halstead's eye to get out the irritating substance. Mrs. Wilbur told
them that Prudent Bedell, a queer old fellow who lived at Lurvey's
Mills, four miles away, had an eyestone that he would lend to any one
for ten cents.
Bedell was generally known as "the old sin-smeller," because he
pretended to be able, through his sense of smell, to detect a criminal.
Indeed, the old Squire had once employed him to settle a dispute for
some superstitious lumbermen at one of his logging camps.
Anxious to try anything that might relieve Halstead's suffering, the old
Squire sent me to borrow the eyestone. Although I was fourteen, that was
the first time I had ever heard of an eyestone; from what Mrs. Wilbur
had said about it, I supposed that it was something very mysterious.
"It will creep all round, inside the lid of his eye," she had said, "and
find the dirt, and draw it along to the outer corner and push it out."
Physicians and oculists still have some faith in eyestones, I believe,
although, on account of the progress that has been made in methods of
treating the eye, they are not as much in use as formerly.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274