ive power of circumstances. The "dear
doctor" is all the more kindly welcomed that health is the most precious
of boons; and thus they are always waited for with impatience and
received with eagerness. Some are kind to them from hope, others from
gratitude. They are fed like pet pigeons. They let things take their
course, and in six months the habit is confirmed, and they are gourmands
past redemption.

I ventured one day to express this opinion at a banquet in which, with
eight others, I took a part, with Dr. Corvisart at the head of the
table. It was about the year 1806.

"You!" cried I, with the inspired tone of a Puritan preacher; "you are
the last remnant of a body which formerly covered the whole of France.
Alas! its members are annihilated or widely scattered. No more
_fermiers-generaux_, no abbes nor knights nor white-coated friars. The
members of your profession constitute the whole gastronomic body.
Sustain with firmness that great responsibility, even if you must share
the fate of the three hundred Spartans at the Pass of Thermopylae."

At the same dinner I observed the following noteworthy fact. The doctor,
who, when in the mood, was a most agreeable companion, drank nothing but
iced champagne; and therefore in the earlier part of the dinner, whilst
others were engaged in eating, he kept talking loudly and telling
stories. But at dessert, on the contrary, and when the general
conversation began to be lively, he became serious, silent, and
sometimes low-spirited.

From this observation, confirmed by many others, I have deduced the
following theorem:--"Champagne, though at first exhilarating, ultimately
produces stupefying effects;" a result, moreover, which is a well-known
characteristic of the carbonic acid which it contains.

Whilst I have the university doctors under my grasp, I must, before I
die, reproach them with the extreme severity which they use towards
their patients. As soon as one has the misfortune to fall into their
hands, he must undergo a whole litany of prohibitions, and give up
everything that he is accustomed to think agreeable. I rise up to oppose
such interdictions, as being for the most part useless. I say useless,
because the patient never longs for what is hurtful. A doctor of
judgment will never lose sight of the instinctive tendency of our
inclinations, or forget that if painful sensations are naturally fraught
with danger, those which are pleasant have a healthy tendency. We h