ney; but, as her narrative was prolonged by digressions, and broken by the comments of her eager listeners, we shall give its purport briefly.
The pleasure of the journey, and the hope of a cure from the far-famed New-York doctor, wrought wonders on Charlotte's feeble frame; and when she arrived at her aunt's, she felt more strength and ease than she had experienced for years; and, but for certain sharp twinges, she said she should have saved Harry's money and not consulted the doctor. The doctor, however, was summoned, and seemed at once inspired with an interest for his humble patient that was hardly to be expected from a man at the head of his profession, and whose attendance was sought at every moment by the first in the land. But Dr. —— was no common man, and was a most rare physician. He studied the mind as well as the body; he endeavoured to comprehend their delicate relations and bearings upon each other, and in his profession he ministered to both. He was a religious man in principle, and earnestly so in feeling; and, by getting into the hearts of his patients—into the inner temple, by addressing them as religious beings, by rousing their faith and fortitude, or their submission and patience, "he was sure," as Charlotte said, to find a medicine that would do them good, if all drugs failed; and, if the case was curable, his prescriptions operated like the old woman's herb, that "with a blessing always cured."
After an examination, he ascertained Charlotte's malady to a certainty, and that it was incurable; but he did not shock her by at once telling her this. He visited her repeatedly, talked patiently
