One thing I knew, it is true; that there
were spasms, and that it depended on a diseased condition of the brain
and nervous system; but what the cause or causes were, I could hardly
divine. Nor, in truth, had I time to ask many questions.

Though the days of Hydropathy had not yet arrived, the world, even then,
had a good deal of water in it, and physicians were sometimes wise
enough to use it. It was demanded, as I thought, on the present
occasion. It would, at least, by whiling away the time, give opportunity
for further observation and reflection, and deeper investigation. There
was a good fire in the kitchen, and I ordered a warm bath immediately.

Every effort was made to hasten the process of warming the water, as
well as to keep the patient quiet and within doors; for she raved like a
maniac--partly indeed from a childish fear, but partly also from real
bodily suffering. The family and neighborhood--for the latter were very
largely collected together--were almost as much alarmed and distressed
as the little patient, and this reacted on the patient to her increased
disadvantage.

As there were no special preparations in those days for bathing--I mean
in the region of which I am now speaking--we used a large wash-tub. The
water was soon ready, and was made rather warm, quite above 100 deg. of
Fahrenheit. I had taken the precaution to have my patient already
undressed, so as to lose no time. The very instant the bath was ready,
she was plunged into it. It cost some trouble, for she resisted with
almost superhuman strength, and uttered most terrific screams. But as
the ox is dragged to the slaughter, she was dragged into the water and
held in it.

The effect was like magic. She had not been in the water twenty seconds
before every thing was quiet; and I do not know that she has ever had
another pang to the present hour. Certain it is that she seemed to be
entirely cured by this single bath, and none of her spasms ever
returned.

The family were greatly delighted, and so were the neighbors. And was
the physician, think you, an uninterested spectator? Had he been wholly
destitute of the love of doing good, by relieving human distress, he
must at least have been susceptible of receiving pleasure from general
approbation.

He certainly sought respectability as a physician. And this he was by
degrees now attaining.

It is hardly possible to refer the sudden quiet which followed in this
instance from the applicat