yself, could
acquire, but one which was within the reach of every one who would take
the needful pains.

On a certain occasion of this latter kind, I was under a conventional
necessity of exposing myself, in an unusual degree, for several
successive evenings, to circumstances which, at an earlier period of my
life, would, almost inevitably, have been followed by a cold. Was it
safe, in my present condition, to run the risk? I hesitated for some
time, but finally decided to comply with the request which had been
made, and take the responsibility. I believed my susceptibility to cold
so entirely eradicated that there was little if any danger.

But, as the event proved, I was quite mistaken; a severe cold came on,
and left me in a condition not merely alarming, but immediately so. My
lungs were greatly oppressed and my cough exceedingly severe and
harassing; and it was followed with great debility and rapid emaciation.

Ashamed of myself, especially as I had boasted, for so many years, of
an entire freedom from all tendencies of this sort, I endeavored, for a
few days, to screen myself entirely from the public eye and observation.
But I soon found that inaction, especially confinement to the house,
would not answer the purpose,--that I should certainly die if I
persisted in my seclusion.

What now should I do? I was too feeble to work much, although the season
had arrived when labor in the garden was beginning to be needed. Trees
were to be pruned and washed, and other things promptly attended to. The
open air was also the best remedy for my enfeebled and irritated
bronchial cavities. Whether there was, at this time, any ulceration of
tubercles in my lungs, is, to say the least, very doubtful. However, I
greatly needed the whole influence of out-of-door employment, or of
travelling abroad; and, as it seemed to me, could not long survive
without it.

Accordingly I took my pruning knife in my hand, and walked to the
garden. It was about a quarter of a mile distant, and quite unconnected
with the house I occupied. At first, it was quite as much as I could do
to walk to the garden and return without attempting any labor. Nor could
I have done even this, had I not rested several times, both on the road
and in the enclosure itself.

It was a week before I was able to do more than merely walk to the
garden and back, and perhaps prune a small fruit tree or shrub, and then
return. But I persevered. It seemed a last if not a