myself, and shall soon be good for nothing! Did you ever feel so, my friend?"

"Yes, and ten thousand times worse than all you have described."

"My dear friend, it is impossible."

"You may think it so,—and I certainly thought, once, exactly as you do now,—I can therefore make allowances for you. I tell you, no one ever appears so bad to any man, as the afflicted man does to himself. He would soon be better if he could once see others worse than himself, or as bad as himself, and wish, heartily wish, to see them cured. I tell you, such was my case—even worse than yours,—and I can cure you."

"Will you, my dear friend? will you?"

"Yes, will I; and as we never take fees of the faculty, therefore, I will cure you for nothing. I do not say, with nothing.—No. Will you follow my advice?"

"Yes, assuredly. What is it?"

"Ride on horseback."

"I never did so since I was a boy."

"Nor did I, till I tried."

"But did that cure you?"

"Yes, it did; and will cure you also."

"How long did you ride before you felt better?"

"Not an hour."

"How long before you were well again?"

"Six days; six miles out, every day; six miles home; and in six days all those morbid secretions went away from my brain, and I became as I am, a cheerful and happy man."

"But how shall I manage? I must begin de novo. I must learn, and I must get a horse that will just move as I want him, slow and sure; either a walk, or a gentle canter; one that does not mind the whip; and I dare not ride one with a spur."

"My dear fellow, I have a friend who served 

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