es up in winter, and then they
attack them with spears, and generally overcome them. When a Laplander
has killed a bear, he carries it home in triumph, boils the flesh in an
iron pot (which is all the cooking they are acquainted with), and
invites all his neighbours to the feast. This they account the greatest
delicacy in the world, and particularly the fat, which they melt over
the fire and drink; then, sitting round the flame, they entertain each
other with stories of their own exploits in hunting or fishing, till the
feast is over. Though they live so barbarous a life, they are a
good-natured, sincere, and hospitable people. If a stranger comes among
them, they lodge and entertain him in the best manner they are able, and
generally refuse all payment for their services, unless it be a little
bit of tobacco, which they are immoderately fond of smoking.

_Tommy._--Poor people! how I pity them, to live such an unhappy life! I
should think the fatigues and hardships they undergo must kill them in a
very short space of time.

_Mr Barlow._--Have you then observed that those who eat and drink the
most, and undergo the least fatigue, are the most free from disease?

_Tommy._--Not always; for I remember that there are two or three
gentlemen who come to dine at my father's, who eat an amazing quantity
of meat, besides drinking a great deal of wine, and these poor gentlemen
have lost the use of almost all their limbs. Their legs are so swelled,
that they are almost as big as their bodies; their feet are so tender
that they cannot set them to the ground; and their knees so stiff, that
they cannot bend them. When they arrive, they are obliged to be helped
out of their coaches by two or three people, and they come hobbling in
upon crutches. But I never heard them talk about anything but eating and
drinking in all my life. _Mr Barlow._--And did you ever observe that
any of the poor had lost the use of their limbs by the same disease?

_Tommy._--I cannot say I have.

_Mr Barlow._--Then, perhaps, the being confined to a scanty diet, to
hardship, and to exercise, may not be so desperate as you imagine. This
way of life is even much less so than the intemperance in which too many
of the rich continually indulge themselves. I remember lately reading a
story on this subject, which, if you please, you shall hear. Mr Barlow
then read the following

"HISTORY OF A SURPRISING CURE OF THE GOUT."

"In one of the provinces of Italy ther