success. Then usually he may feel free to
reasonably follow out his tastes, and to write, or in any other way
insist on freedom to use or make public his results. If only he has the
competent fund of persistent industry to draw upon, he will be not the
worse, but the better, physician for such enlargement of his pursuits as
I refer to, for we may feel sure that in my profession there is room for
the direct or indirect use of every possible accomplishment.

CONVALESCENCE.

To my mind, there is nothing more pleasant than the gradual return to
health after some revolutionary disease which has removed a goodly
portion of the material out of which is formed our bodily frame. Nature
does this happy work deftly in most cases, where, at least, no grave
organic mischief has been left by the malady; and in the process we get
such pleasantness as comes always from the easy exercise of healthy
function. The change from good to better day by day is in itself
delightful, and if you have been so happy, when well, as to have loved
and served many, now is the good time when bun and biscuit come back to
you,--shapely loaves of tenderness and gracious service. Flowers and
books, and folks good and cheery to talk to, arrive day after day, and
have for you a new zest which they had not in fuller health. Old tastes
return and mild delights become luxuries, as if the new tissues in nerve
and brain were not sated, like those of the older body in which they are
taking their places.

When you are acutely ill, the doctor is business-like and gravely kind;
you want him in a way, are even anxious to see him for the relief he may
bring, or the reassurance. But when you begin to feel as if you were a
creature reborn, when you are safe and keenly enjoying the return of
health, then it is that the morning visit is so delightful. You look for
his coming and count on the daily chat. Should he chance to be what many
of my medical brothers are,--educated, accomplished, with wide artistic
and mental sympathies,--he brings a strong, breezy freshness of the
outer world with him into the monastic life of the sick-room. One does
not escape from being a patient because of being also a physician, and
for my part I am glad to confess my sense of enjoyment in such visits,
and how I have longed to keep my doctor at my side and to decoy him into
a protracted stay. The convalescence he observes is for him, too, a
pleasant thing. He has and should have pride i