In the first place, no strong evacuating remedy must be given; for that, by carrying off the thinner parts of the juices, will tend to thicken the remainder; and certainly encrease the distemper. No acrid medicine must be directed, for that may act too hastily, dissolve the impacted matter at once, and let it loose, to the destruction of the sufferer; no antimonial, no mercurial, no martial preparation must be taken; in short, no chymistry: nature is the shop that heaven has set before us, and we must seek our medicine there. The venerable ancients, who knew not this new art, will lead us in the search; and (faithful relators as they are of truth) will tell us whence we may deduce our hope; and what we are to fear.

But prior to the course of any medicine, and as an essential to any good hope from it, the patient must prescribe himself a proper course of life, and a well chosen diet: let us assist him in his choice; and speak of this first, as it comes first in order.

SECT. VI.

Rules of Life for Hypochondriac Persons.

Air and exercise, as they are the best preservers of health, and greatest assistants in the cure of all long continued diseases, will have their full effect in this; but there requires some caution in the choice, and management of them. It is common to think the air of high grounds best; but experience near home shews otherwise: the Hypochondriac patient is always worse at Highgate even than in London.

The air he breathes should be temperate; not exposed to the utmost violences of heat and cold, and the swift changes from one to the other; which are most felt on those high grounds. The side of a hill is the best place for him: and though wet grounds are hurtful; yet let there be the shade of trees, to tempt him often to a walk; and soften by their exhalation the over dryness of the air.

The exercise he takes should be frequent; but not violent. Motion preserves the firmness of the parts, and elasticity of the vessels; it prevents that aggregation of thick humours which he is most to fear. A sedentary life always produces weakness, and that mischief always follows: weak eyes are gummy, weak lungs are clogged with phlegm, and weak bowels waste themselves in vapid diarrhœas.

Let him invite himself abroad, and let his friends invite him by every innocent inducement. For me, I should advise above all other things the study of nature. Let him begin with plants: he will here find a continual pleasure, and continual change; fertile of a thousand useful things; even of the utility we are seeking here. This will induce him to walk; and every hedge and hillock, every foot-path side, and thicket, will afford him some new object. He will be tempted to be continually in the air, and continually to change the nature and quality of the air, by visiting in succession the high lands and the low, the lawn, the heath, the forest. He will never want inducement to be abroad; and the unceasing variety of the subjects of his observation, will prevent his walking hastily: he will pursue his studies in the air; and that contemplative turn of mind, which in his closet threatened his destruction, will thus become the great means of his recovery.