could ascertain the cause and remove it. "However," I said, "we will
conclude to call it rheumatism." For though possessed of a good natural
constitution, and, in general, of comparatively temperate habits, he had
nevertheless set at defiance some of nature's laws, and was suffering
under a just penalty.

One member of his family, a favorite son, was suspicious of coffee. He
himself had abandoned it long before, and had thus placed himself in a
position to observe its effects on others. His father used it very
strong, he said; and had used it in this way for a long time. He even
ventured, at length, to express his fears to his father.

"Nonsense, my son," said the father; "do you think coffee is powerful
enough to give a man a lame knee? Why, the whole world--I mean the whole
civilized world--use it; and do they all have stiff knees?"

"Perhaps not," said the son; "but almost every coffee-drinker has,
sooner or later, some ailment about him, that may very possibly have its
origin in this source. Our troubles, as you yourself are accustomed to
say, do not spring out of the ground. Coffee, as the best authorities
tell us, is a slow poison; and if it is so, its effects must, at some
time, be manifested."

"Ay, a very slow poison this coffee must be, my son," said the
half-indignant father; "for I have used it pretty freely forty years,
and am not dead yet. But to be serious for a moment, Henry, do you
really believe that such a small transgression as this, even if it could
be proved to be a transgression at all, would be the cause of so much
suffering?"

"You admit, then, that your troubles may possibly be the result of
transgression, and that they did not spring out of the ground."

"Oh yes, I suppose it must be so; but there is such a strange
disproportion between the transgression and the penalty, in the case you
mention, that I cannot for one moment believe any thing about it. Why,
what rational man in the world will believe that a little coffee, once a
day, will entail upon a person severe rheumatism?"

"To what larger transgression, my dear father, will you be more ready to
refer it? You do not use tobacco, or rum, or opium; and I am happy in
being able to say that you never did. You are no tea-drinker. You are no
worshipper of the apothecary's shop. You have not, so far as I know,
strained your knee, by over exertion, either in labor or amusement Yet,
here you are a sufferer; and you have suffered for month