arrived at evening at a large thoroughfare, forty miles or more from
our point of destination, when, after procuring a comfortable supper and
a good sleigh, with a new relay of horses, we set out to perform the
remainder of our journey. This was fortunate and very expeditious. We
reached our place of destination just before midnight, having travelled
the last forty-two miles in little more than four hours. This was almost
equal to railroad speed; but it was good sleighing, and we had with us,
in the sleigh, the United States mail, which imposed on the driver a
necessity of being as expeditious as the nature of the case would admit.
For even then, we had been twenty-one hours in making our passage.

I soon discovered that I had taken a severe cold during the journey; nor
do I believe my opium itself would have saved me. My only medicine was a
warm bed, into which I threw myself as soon as possible. In the morning
I repaired as early as I could to a boarding-house, in which a friend to
whom I had previously written, had made ready a place for me.

I was at first quite ill; but in the hope that a few days of rest would
restore me, I was not particularly anxious about myself, though some of
my friends were so. Several individuals called to inquire after my
health--nearly every one of whom pressed me to take medicine.

The second day after my arrival I began to expectorate a little blood.
Those who were familiarly acquainted with my consumptive tendencies
became greatly alarmed. They thought me not only presumptuous, because I
took nothing, but absolutely and carelessly ungrateful. And as I refused
to dose myself, they pressed me to send for a physician.

Yielding, at length, to their importunity, they called one of the oldest
and best physicians in the metropolis. He was an eccentric man, but he
had the full confidence of the better sort of people, and richly
deserved it; and I knew I should not be advised by him hastily. He was
acquainted with my peculiar views, at least in part. Besides, I should
not be obliged to follow his counsel implicitly. I should still be my
own physician. My disease had not, at least thus far, impaired my
intellect or taken out of my hands my free agency.

The doctor remained with me half an hour or so, during which time I made
him acquainted, as perfectly as I could, with my whole case. My good
friends, many of them, sat around waiting almost with impatience, to
hear him bid them or me to do s