Just at the end of the vacation every one feels it a duty to himself to go somewhere for a little while. I went to visit a friend residing near Cheltenham. Mesmerism, the Water Cure, and some other German novelties, had just then possessed the good people in that part of the country, and I was induced to try the prevailing panacea, which I underwent live days—and never before did I fully appeciate the force of the metaphor, to throw a wet blanket on anything. Even now it presents a sadly ludicrous spectacle to my mind's eye, as I recall myself helplessly swaddled in seven blankets over a wet sheet, powerless to move hand or foot; or squatted in a sitz bath, trying to keep myself warm by reading the fire in Schiller's Bell-Song. At the end of the fifth day, the process had to be given up in self-defence, as, in addition to certain physical obstructions, it brought on a lowness of spirits which rendered life a burden to me.

I am aware how dangerous a thing it is for a layman, with necessarily limited knowledge, to meddle with professional subjects. In delivering any opinion upon them, he runs a great risk of stultifying himself.