But the girl herself was not satisfied. She could not leave the house without help; and yet it was easy to see that she was determined not to remain. She preferred, as she said, to die. Everybody seemed to pity her, despite of her unreasonableness, and the more for her unreasonableness. Her friends assured her that this treatment of mine afforded her the last chance of recovery, and begged her not to decide to leave us too hastily. It was all to no purpose, however; she said she preferred death in the street to a cure at my hands.

There had been serious difficulty about her diet. I had strenuously forbidden the use of certain condiments which I thought injurious to her, but which she was resolutely determined to have. At first, a few things prepared to her taste had been smuggled in by certain psuedo friends; but this, when discovered, was absolutely prohibited.

One evening, just at dark, some of her friends called to see her and me. They found me in the sitting-room. We had a short conversation concerning the patient, in which they were made most distinctly to understand that they must either leave her to be treated wholly according to my discretion or remove her. They were left at a loss what course was best; but at length, in compliance with her clamors, they placed her in their carriage and carried her away.

This was both the first and last patient that ever ran away from me, or that ever appeared to be desirous of doing so. On the whole, though no one pitied her more than myself, I was glad when she was gone. She was hardly worth curing. I never heard from her more, except vaguely, some time afterward, that she was dead, which was probably correct. Most certainly I could not have lived long, in her circumstances.

I was very unwise in taking the charge of her, or, at least, in retaining her a moment after she refused to obey me. However, I had my reward. The public not being possessed of all the facts in the case, probably lost confidence in me. It was proper that they should. He who takes a viper to his bosom, must not be surprised if he suffers the natural consequences of his presumption.


CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

HEALTH HOSPITALS.

Some of my friends, fully aware of my strong reliance on the recuperative powers of nature, and of my growing scepticism in regard to medicine, entered into combination and proposed to place me at the head of a hospital, in which I should have an opportunity, as they supposed, to test the superiority of my favorite practice.