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. 2, 1862.]

Earl of Shrewsbury was lying on a couch near an open window of his chamber at the Hall at Buxton when the Countess entered the apartment with the family physician.

“Bess,” said the Earl, “you have not been telling the doctor that I am better?”

“Yes, I have,” she replied; “or, if you are not better, you will be presently. You do not feel it yet, perhaps; but where is there such an air as this of Buxton? And there are the waters, too! Who could help being better here?”

“I do not like the air,” replied the sick man; “and this sunshine makes me faint; and I am worse with every draught of the waters.”

The physician gently closed half the shutter, and applied himself to the patient’s pulse.

“I am not better, Doctor, am I?”

“You are not. It takes time to deal with an attack like yours.”

“How much time?” inquired the Countess.

“That depends on various circumstances, Madam. One of those circumstances is ease of mind. The more leisure his Lordship has to be ill, the sooner he will get well.”

“Shall I give him more of the water?—another draught in the middle of the afternoon?”

“I should be rather disposed to omit the water altogether for a few days.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” said the patient, fervently.

“What, then, instead of it?” asked the lady.

“The medicine I ordered yesterday will suffice, Madam, till—"

“Thank you, Doctor,” the patient repeated.

“I would try entire repose,” the physician observed; “rest and quiet, in this fine air. His Lordship should not be troubled with business, or with cares of any kind.”

“That is impossible,” said both the sick man and his wife.

“It would be the best wisdom,” the physician insisted. “If his Lordship could lie here, and think of nothing, and sleep when able, I should