a small portion of it into another paper, and
slipping it into my pocket unobserved by the patient. I then told her
that I thought she should discontinue the use of the powder, which was
entirely unsuited to her ailment.

"That is a cruel advice, sir," she cried, in a tone of great excitement.
"How can I discontinue a medicine offered to me by the hands of a
husband, without being able to give any reason for rejecting his
kindness? I tremble to think of repaying all the attentions of that dear
man with ingratitude, and wounding his sensibility by rejecting this
testimony of his solicitude and affection. I cannot--I feel I cannot.
The grief I would thereby produce to him would be reflected, by
sympathy, on this weak frame, which is unable to struggle much longer
with the pains of flesh alone, far less with the additional anguish of a
wounded mind, grieved to death at causing sorrow to the man I so dearly
love. Do not, oh! do not, sir, make me an ingrate."

I was struck with the devotion of this gentle being, who actually
trembled at the idea of producing uneasiness to the man whom she had
raised to affluence, and who yet would not allow her the benefit of a
doctor in her distress; but, while I was pleased with this exhibition of
a feature in the female character I had never before seen so strongly
developed, though I had read and heard much of the fidelity and
affection of the women of the east, I was much chagrined at the idea
that so fair and beautiful a virtue would probably prevent me from doing
anything effectual for a creature who, independently of her distance
from her country, had so many other claims on my sympathy. I told her
that I feared I could be of little service to her if she could not
resolve upon discontinuing her husband's medicine; and tried to impress
upon her the necessity of conforming to my advice, if she wished to make
herself well--the best mode, assuredly, of making her husband happy;
but she replied that she expected I would have been able to give her
something to restore her to health independently of what she got from
her husband--a result she wished above all things, as she sighed for the
opportunity of delighting him, by attributing to his medicines and care
her restoration and happiness. I replied that that was impossible--a
statement that stung her with disappointment and pain.

"Then I will take my beloved's medicines, and die!" she cried, with a
low struggling voice--resigning herse