ng patient; and physicians, as you know, cannot
choose. They must be, among mankind, like the Great Physician, as they
who "_serve_;" not as those who are _to be served_, or accommodated. And
they must serve those who come to them.

Miss L. was evidently somewhat disappointed, when she found I was not
disposed to give her any medicine. A little, she thought, might
sometimes be useful; a great deal she did not believe in, of course.
Experience had forced upon her some of the lessons of wisdom. However,
she contrived to fasten a good deal of faith on the laws of health,
which I continually held forth to her. In particular, I urged on her the
necessity of endeavoring to keep up what I was wont to call a
centrifugal tendency in her system. A good plump, healthful, ever
active, and ever vigorous skin was, as I told her, our only hope in her
case. As a means to this end, and also as a means of withdrawing her
attention from the slavery of a constant attendance on her own
sensations, I urged her to mingle with society much more, and go about
doing good to others, on the great principle, "It is more blessed to
give than to receive." I warned her, however, against the danger of
falling into the habit of giving an account of herself--her woes and
sorrows--to every one she might meet with, who should kindly inquire
about her condition, since it would greatly retard her improvement, even
if it did not keep up or renew her disease.

Among other things, I ventured to suggest to her the importance of
having something to do--something of a permanent nature. "We hear," I
said, "of gentlemen at large, and you seem to be a lady at large. You
have, in the usual acceptation of the phrase, nothing to do. Would it
not be well for you to take charge of something or of somebody? You
might, perhaps, assume the office of teacher, and take the charge of a
few pupils; or even adopt a child or two as your own, where you might
receive compensation. Or," as I finally added,--for I perceived she
shrunk from all responsibilities of this kind,--"you might, perhaps,
become the mistress of a family."

On the last mentioned topic, I was also obliged, for obvious reasons, to
speak with considerable caution. She was unsocial, timid, fearful of
being burdened with cares--the very stuff, though she knew it not, that
human life is made of, ay, and human happiness too. But I could not
hesitate to make the trial. My suggestions, however, were of little
avail. S