had a passion from my earliest youth
for helping those people who were not so well off as I am, for nursing
the sick, and for rendering the last offices to the dying. My late
husband used to call me the privileged life preserver; you cannot
imagine a better nurse than I am, for you see I am of a generation when
professional ones were as yet unknown. I can easily do without sleep,
and can even assist at any operation without the least show of
weakness. I have come here with a friend of mine who cannot last much
longer. When the poor thing is released from her sufferings, I shall
have more time at my disposal than now; she has always to entreat me to
leave her and take some exercise--and so my dear child if you want
support, advice, or help, apply to no one but me; you must solemnly
promise me this. Of course I will no longer allow you to spend your
days all alone. I will often come to see you. I never stand on ceremony
with my friends, and so you must take it kindly if I tyrannize over
you--it will be all for your good. I understand nervous complaints as
well as the best of doctors--amusements, air, excitement, are the
remedies I prescribe. _A propos_, which doctor have you consulted
here?" I answered that I had not applied to any, neither intended to do
so as I knew that my malady was incurable. She shook her head
incredulously, so I took from my portfolio a sheet of paper on which
our doctor had drawn a sort of representation, to shew how far the
disease in my lungs had spread. She examined it with experienced eyes.

"My dear child," she at last said, "this is all nonsense, the doctors
are all the same, the more they talk, the less they know. I could lay
any wager that your interior has a totally different aspect from this."
I told her that she had every prospect of being able to ascertain this,
but that I declined the wager, as unfortunately I could not win it
whilst alive. She only partly listened to what I said, and she
continued in so loud a voice that it pierced to my very marrow, to give
me an account of different illnesses which tended to shew how little
doctors were to be relied on, accompanying it with so many details,
that it would have made me sick, if I had not had courage and presence
of mind enough to cry for mercy. At length she rose, and in taking
leave she made a movement as if to embrace me, and was evidently
surprised when I coldly and stiffly gave her my finger tips. She
rustled out of the room in g