p
under such sad and severe responsibilities."

And yet--will the reader believe it?--no one circumstance of my whole
medical life ever did more to establish my reputation than this. True, I
had contended on the battle field, and had been beaten, but then it was
thought I had contended against a powerful foe. Men sometimes think it
honorable even to be beaten. I well remember an instance of this sort. A
very great scoundrel heaped insults upon a worthy justice of the peace,
till the latter seized him and held him down to the ground for a
considerable time. The man was quite respectable afterward, and told the
story to his own praise a thousand times over! He had measured lances
with 'Squire H.! And though the 'Squire was too much for him, he
obtained a town-wide reputation by the contest.

You will see, more and more, as I proceed with these confessions, that
it is not in him that willeth nor in him that runneth, to be acceptable
as a physician, but in certain circumstances, partly within and partly
beyond our control. You will see, however, that the best way in the end
is, boldly and fearlessly to do right, and then trust in Him who loves
right, and whose throne is in the Heavens, for the final issue. We may
not always be popular in doing right--probably we shall _not_ be--but we
shall, in any event, have a clear conscience.

CHAPTER XXXI.

A SUDDEN CURE.

I was called one morning very early, to see a little girl, five or six
years of age, who, it was said, was extremely sick, and without
immediate aid could not probably long survive.

She was one of a very numerous family, most of whom, though suffered to
run almost wild, like so many rabbits, were comparatively healthy. I do
not suppose they had ever called in a physician more than once or twice
in a year. In truth, they had very little confidence in physicians;
though in extremities, they were accustomed to call on them almost as
much as other people. In any event Caroline was very sick now; and they
loudly demanded aid. I was forthwith on the spot. Caroline was groaning
most piteously. "Where is your distress?" I inquired. She gave no direct
answer, but continued to groan and writhe, as if she were impaled. As I
could obtain no reliable information from her, and could discover no
special or exciting cause of her suffering, and as the case was urgent,
I proceeded to do _something_, though, as I must honestly confess, it
was to labor quite in the dark.