the blessing
of a kind Providence, the sick were both of them much better, and I
could leave them for a whole day at a time. My business in town demanded
my presence, and I repaired thither again. And who should I meet, on
getting out of the omnibus, but my old friend, who had reasoned with me
so patiently and perseveringly, in defence of Mrs. Kidder's cordial?

He inquired, almost immediately, about my family; to which I joyfully
replied, "Better, all better. They were better in less than two days
after I last saw you;--yes, they were a little better that very
evening."

"I told you it would be so," said he. "I never knew the cordial to fail
when taken in season. I have lost several children, it is true; but they
did not take it soon enough. I am profoundly glad you were in season.
Does it not operate like a charm?"

"Exactly so," said I, "if it operates at all; exactly like a charm, or
like magic. Shall I tell you the whole story?"

"By all means," he replied; "let us have the whole of it; keep nothing
back."

"Well, then, I went home, and placed the bottle of cordial on a high and
obscure shelf, where nobody would be likely to see it, and proceeded
with our sick folks just as before. The bottle of cordial remained
unknown, except to myself, and untouched, and is probably untouched to
the present hour. So you see--do you not?--how like a charm it
operates."

"Just _like_ you, doctor. Well, as long as they recovered I do not care.
But I shall always have full faith in the medicine. I know what I know;
and if all the world were of your opinion I could not resist a full
belief in the efficacy of Mrs. Kidder's Cholera Cordial."

My friend was not offended with me, for he was, in the main, a sensible,
rational man. He pitied me; but, I believe from that time forth, gave up
all hopes of my conversion. I come to this conclusion because he has
never uttered a syllable on the subject, in my hearing, from that day to
this hour, though I have met with him probably fifty times.

There can be no doubt that were we to place full faith in the
recuperative efforts of nature, three-fourths of our medicine--perhaps I
may just as well say nine-tenths--would be quite as useful were it
disposed of in the way I disposed of Mrs. Kidder's cordial, as when
swallowed. Nay, it is possible it might be much more useful. If a sick
person can recover without it just as well as _with_ it, he certainly
will get well more easily, even if it