ion of warm water, to a mere coincidence, as
if the system was ready, just at this very instant, to react or rally.
The bath must have had something more than a mere imaginary or
accidental effect, though its prescription may be said to have been
empirical.

Had the experiment in the present instance wholly failed, it is by no
means improbable the physician would still have been on a par with other
men. The _guess_ he made was his _only_ thought. He had nothing in
reserve. But he was successful; he _guessed right_, and it built him up.
His fame now began to spread far and wide, wafted, as it were, on the
wings of every breeze. If he succeeded, it was supposed to be undeniable
proof of his skill; if he failed, it was not supposed to be so much his
fault as the result of circumstances; or, more properly, the severity of
the disease. And even in the case of failure, as I have said elsewhere,
he often gained credit; for he had boldly contended, at great odds, with
a mighty because intangible antagonist!

It is an old proverb,--but by no means the less true for its age,--that
when a person is going down hill every one will give him a kick. But is
it not equally true that when he is resolutely going up hill, they are
equally ready to help him on? So at least I found it at this period of
my progress.

CHAPTER XXXII.

GIGANTIC DOSES OF MEDICINE.

Although I was opposed to the frequent and free use of medicine, I early
fell into one habit which was as diametrically opposed to my general
theory as could possibly have been. I refer to the habit of giving my
patients, at least occasionally, most enormous doses of those more
active preparations which should seldom, if ever, be administered in
this way. As nearly as I can now recollect, I fell into this habit in
the following manner:

Among my standing patients, before mentioned, were several drunkards.
Occasionally, however, they were more than standing or standard
patients; they had attacks of mania, or as it is usually called in the
case of drunkards, delirium tremens. In these circumstances, among these
patients, I often had the most severe trials. Sometimes I could relieve
them; but sometimes, too, I failed.

One night, while endeavoring to relieve the sufferings of one of these
patients in delirium tremens, almost to no purpose, the thought struck
me, "What effect would a prodigious dose of calomel have on the poor
creature? Can it kill him? I doubt it. I will