walked little, slept enormously, and got the dyspepsia. Having
nothing extraneous to love, or to call forth my affections, or
excite my ardent hopes and fears, I concentered them all upon
myself. The object of our exclusive love is ever the focus of
all our solicitudes, and never fails to call up fears, whether
real or imaginary. I had now reached the high hill of life, and
was beginning to descend. The little changes of feeling, the
slight stiffnesses of the joints, the impaired activity of the
limbs, and the wandering vivacity of the whole system, which
mark this epoch in the life of man, struck me with dismay. I
had nothing else for my mind to prey upon, and it fed upon
that with the avidity of a diseased appetite. I consulted a
doctor, and that did my business. A dose will convince a man
he is sick, if he only imagined it before. No physician, who
knows his business, will take a fee without giving a prescription in exchange ; for a good workman knows how to make
business. However, mine turned out a pretty honest fellow.
Finding, after a twelvemonth, that I complained worse than
ever, he advised me to take exercise, eat sparingly, and ride a
hard trotting horse. " A hard trotting horse !" exclaimed I
in inexpressible horror, " I'd as soon ride a race through the
city of Gotham." "Very well, then get married ; there is
nothing like real evils to"" banish imaginary ones, and matrimony is a sovereign cure."' " The remedy is worse than the
disease," replied I, and left him in condign despair.
The horrors of a life of perfect ease now crowded thickly upon me, and I became the most miserable of all miserable men, that have nothing to trouble them. I grew fat, lethargic, and was teased with a perpetual desire to eat. I ate till eating became a burden ; and slept till sleep was little better than a nightmare, bringing all the horrors of indigestion in her train. I rolled from side to side, I tried to find a soft place in the bed, I rubbed my feet and hands together to restore the circulation of my blood, and tried to think about something to relieve my mind from vague and undefinable horrors. But what can a man think about, who has nothing to trouble him but himself ? I became at last unwilling, or more truly, afraid, to go to bed, lest I should be hag- ridden, and quarrelled with a fellow boarder, who, having something to do by day, could not afford to set up with me all night. The consequence of this loss of rest was, that when I sat still a few minutes during the day, I was sure to fall asleep in my chair. It was one warm summer day, the crisis of my fate, when having taken a
huge walk of half a mile to see a picture of Wilkie's, I returned