elieve you deceive your physician, do you?"

"I have sometimes thought so," said I, not realizing the trap the
doctor was setting.

"How foolish!" he cried. "Why should you wish to?"

I was covered with confusion.

"Never mind," said AEsculapius, smiling pleasantly. "You are only human
and cannot help yourself. It is your imagination leads you astray.
Half the time when you send for your physician there is nothing the
matter with you."

"He always prescribes," I retorted.

"That is for your comfort, not his," said AEsculapius, firmly.

"And sometimes they operate when it isn't necessary," I put in,
persistently.

"True," said AEsculapius. "Very true. Because if they didn't, the
patient would die of worry."

"Humph!" said I, incredulous. "I never knew that the operation for
appendicitis was a mind cure."

"It is--frequently," observed the doctor. "There are more people, my
friend, who have appendicitis on their minds than there are those who
have it in their vermiforms. Don't forget that."

It was a revelation, and, to tell the truth, it has been a revelation
of comfort ever since.

"I fancy, doctor," said I, after a pause, "that you are a Christian
Scientist. All troubles are fanciful and indicative of a perverse
soul."

AEsculapius flushed.

"If one of the gods had said that," he replied, "I should have
operated upon him. As a mortal, you are privileged to say unpleasant
things, just as a child may say things to his elders with impunity
which merit extreme punishment. Christian Science is all right when
you are truly well--in good physical condition. It is a sure cure for
imaginary troubles, but when you are really sick, it is not of
Olympus, but of Hades."

AEsculapius spoke with all the passion of a mortal, and I was
embarrassed. "I did not mean to say anything unpleasant, doctor," said
I.

"That's all right, my lad," said AEsculapius, patting me on the back.
"I knew that. If I hadn't known it, you'd have been on the table by
this time. And now, good-bye. Curb your imagination. Think about
others. Don't worry about yourself without cause, and never send for a
doctor unless you know there's something wrong. If I had my way you
mortals would be deprived of imagination. That is your worst disease,
and if at any time you wish yours amputated, come to me and I'll fix
you out."

"Thanks, doctor," I replied; "but I don't think I'll accept your
offer, because I need my imagination in my business."