He was a mournful looking wreck, with yellow face and scrawny neck, and weary eyes that looked as though they had monopoly of woe. Too tired to get his labors done, all day he loitered in the sun, and filled the air with yawns and moans, while people called him Lazybones. One day the doctor came, and said: "Brace up, my friend! Hold up your head! The hookworm, deadly as an asp, has got you in its loathsome grasp! But I will break the hookworm lose, and cook its everlasting goose! Swing wide your mouth, and do not cringe—" and then he took his big syringe, and shot about a quart of dope, that tasted like a bar of soap, adown the patient's yawning throat—"I guess I got that hookworm's goat!" One gasping breath the patient drew, and bit a lightning rod in two, and vaulted o'er his cottage roof; and then, on nimble, joyous hoof, he sped across the windswept plain, and burned a school, and robbed a train. The doctor watched his patient streak across the landscape, sere and bleak, and said: "It makes my bosom warm! What wonders Science can perform!"