se conclusion, it would seem," said he,
"that medicine never does any good, and that you will never give it
more, except to those who are determined to have it, or will not fasten
their faith on any thing else."

"Not exactly that," I replied. "I can think of a great number of cases
in which I would give medicine. For example: suppose one of my children
had by the merest accident taken a dose of poison, which, if retained,
must inevitably destroy it, I would much sooner give that child an
active emetic--which, of course, is medicine--than stand still and see
it die."

"Very well," said he, "your child and Miss L., are, in one point of
view, poisoned. They will probably die, if you stand still and do
nothing; at least I have not a doubt that the little girl will. Now take
my advice, and do something before it is too late. Give up all your
theories and fine-spun reasonings, and do as others do, and save your
child."

As I had but little time for conversation with him, even on a highly
important and deeply interesting subject, above all to point out the
difference between the two cases he mentioned. I was now about ready to
say "Good-morning," and leave him. "Stop a moment," said he, "and go
with me to the second shop beyond that corner, and get a bottle of Mrs.
Kidder's cordial for your sick folks."

Here I smiled. "Well," said he, "you may continue to smile; but you will
mourn in the end. I have used Mrs. Kidder's cordial in my family a good
deal, and I assure you it is no humbug. It is all it promises. Now just
go with me, for once, and get a bottle of it. Depend upon it, you will
never regret it."

Although my good friend had not succeeded in changing my views by his
many affirmations, nor by his strong appeal to his experience of the
good effects of the cordial in his own family (for I well knew he had
lost almost all his children), I consented to go with him to the shop,
partly to get rid of him. When we arrived I bought a bottle of the
cordial,--I believe for fifty cents,--put it in my pocket, and carried
it home with me.

When I reached home I put away the bottle, on a shelf in our family
closet which was quite unoccupied, and inquired about the patients. The
little girl was rather better, it was thought, but Miss L. was still
weak and low. I told them about the adventure with the bookseller, but
omitted to state that I had purchased the cordial.

In a very few days, by dint of good care and attention, and