Upon my release, I went at once to Boston, where I had about two thousand dollars in bank. I spent nearly all of the latter sum before I could prevail upon myself to settle down to some mode of making a livelihood; and I was about to engage in business as a vender of lottery policies, when I first began to feel a strange sense of lassitude, which soon increased so as quite to disable me from work of any kind. Month after month passed away, while my money lessened, and this terrible sense of weariness still went on from bad to worse. At last one day, after nearly a year had elapsed, I perceived on my face a large brown patch of color, in consequence of which I went in some alarm to consult a well-known physician. He asked me a multitude of tiresome questions, and at last wrote off a prescription, which I immediately read. It was a preparation of iron.
"What do you think," said I, "is the matter with me, doctor?"
"I am afraid," said he, "that you have a very serious trouble,—what we call Addison's disease."
"What's that?" said I.
"I do not think you would comprehend it," he replied. "It is an affection of the supra-renal capsules."
I dimly remembered that there were such organs, and that nobody knew what they were meant for. It seemed the doctors had found a use for them at last.
"Is it a dangerous disease?" I said.
"I fear so," he answered.
"Don't you know," I asked, "what's the truth about it?"
"Well," he returned gravely, "I am sorry to tell you it is a very dangerous malady."