"Why, with a syringe, sir," said I; "which will, if empty, of course
draw out the gas, when inserted into your mouth."
"My dear Peter, you have saved my life: be quick, though, or I shall go
up, right through the ceiling."
Fortunately, there was an instrument of that description in the house. I
applied it to his mouth, drew up the piston, and then ejected the air,
and re-applied it. In two minutes he pronounced himself better, and I
left the old nurse hard at work, and my father very considerably
pacified. I returned to my sister, to whom I recounted what had passed;
but it was no source of mirth to us, although, had it happened to an
indifferent person, I might have been amused. The idea of leaving her,
as I must soon do--having only a fortnight's leave--to be worried by my
father's unfortunate malady, was very distressing. But we entered into a
long conversation, in which I recounted the adventures that had taken
place since I had left her, and for the time forgot our source of
annoyance and regret. For three days my father insisted upon the old
woman pumping the gas out of his body; after that, he again fell into
one of his sleeps, which lasted nearly thirty hours.
When he arose, I went again to see him. It was eight o'clock in the
evening, and I entered with a candle. "Take it away--quick, take it
away; put it out carefully."
"Why, what's the matter, sir?"
"Don't come near me, if you love me; don't come near me. Put it out, I
say--put it out.
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