ut his physician said, "No, not a drop," and with a good deal of
emphasis.

One day, while I was at his bedside, he turned to me, and with a most
imploring look begged to know whether I believed a very little cold
water would really hurt him. I told him no; but that a good deal
doubtless would, and might even prove the means of his destruction.
"Simple a thing as water is," I said, "it is to you, in circumstances
like yours, a sword with two edges. If it should not cut away the
disease, it would probably cut in the other direction, to the
destruction of your health, if not of your life."

My remarks had both awakened his curiosity and increased his desires for
the interdicted beverage. I found I had gone too far, and I frankly told
him so. I told him it was not in accordance with medical etiquette, nor
even with the rules of good breeding, for one medical man to prescribe
for another's patient without his knowledge. But this explanation did
not satisfy him. Water was what he wanted; and as I had opened the
budget and removed some of his fears, water he must have. He was
willing, he said, to bear the responsibility.

Water, then, in exceedingly small quantity at a time, was permitted; but
it was to be given by stealth. The physician was not allowed to know it,
or, at all events, he was not to know under whose encouragement he
acted. His friends were very careful in regard to the quantity, and I
had the happiness of finding him, in a few days, very much better. But,
as I said in reflecting on the recovery of my aged friend before
mentioned, it is not quite certain, after all, how much was effected by
the water, and how much by the recuperative efforts of Nature herself.
She might have been long waiting for that opportunity to rally, which
the judicious introduction of the water, and the partial or entire
discontinuance of other medicine, greatly facilitated.

CHAPTER XX.

THE MEDICINAL EFFECTS OF STORY TELLING.

My aged father sickened about this time, and remained in a low condition
many months. I was at a distance so great, and in circumstances so
peculiar, that I could not see him often enough to become his medical
adviser. Besides, in my then unfledged condition as a disciple of Galen,
I should not have regarded myself competent to the discharge of so
weighty a responsibility, had I even been at home with him. The result
was that he employed his family physician as usual, and went through, as
might have