eparable from the work of bringing up a numerous family. It is indeed
true that he has not been called to that severest of all possible trials
pertaining to the family, the pain of seeing that family or any of its
members go materially wrong. Still he has had a world of care; of its
effects none are aware who have not been called to the same forms of
experience.

"There is one thing more; Mr. ---- has, at times, taken a good deal of
medicine: not alcohol, in any of its forms, I admit, but substances
which for the time were, in their effects, almost equally bad for him.
He has used tea immoderately, and even tobacco. His constant smoking has
been very injurious to his nervous system, and along with other things
has, doubtless, greatly hurried on the wheels of life."

Remarks like these had their intended effect on a few individuals,
especially such of them as were couched in language with which they were
already familiar. On most, however, they fell lifeless and hopeless.
What knew they about precocity and its effects on the after life? In
short, it was quite doubtful then, and is still more doubtful with me
now, whether, on the whole, any thing was gained by attempts at
explanation. For example, when I spoke of my patient being worn out,
prematurely, by overworking, it was asked by one man, "But how is this?
Other men as well as Mr. ---- have worked too hard, and brought up large
families, and perhaps taken a great deal of medicine, and smoked a vast
amount of tobacco? Why are they not affected in this way as well as Mr.
----?"

It was not easy to make current the idea that Mr. ---- was about to die
of old age; although partly from conviction, but partly, also, to
conceal my ignorance, I still endeavored to promulgate it. It was the
only apology I could make for suffering a man to run down and die,
without appearing to those around him to be very sick.

But he died, after some time, to my infinite mortification and great
regret. I was invited to his funeral, as I was usually to the funerals
of my patients. In this case, however, I contrived to be absent. So
great was my consciousness of ignorance and so much ashamed was I of my
ill success, that I felt as if the veriest ignoramus would be disposed
to point at me, and to charge me with having been, practically, the
murderer of the much-beloved head of a family, and a worthy and highly
respected member of society. But, whether others would deem me culpable
for my igno