Before we set out for Naples, we were refreshed, at a little inn at the bottom of the mountain, with some glasses of a very generous and palatable wine, called _Lachrima Christi_; and experienced the truth of what an Italian Poet observed, that the effects of this wine form a strong contrast with its name: Chi fu, de Contadini il più indiscreto, Che à sbigottir la gente, Diede nome dolente, Al vin, che sopra ogn’ altro il cuor fà lieto? Lachrima dunque appellarassi un’ riso, Parto di nobilissima vindemia. LETTER LXII. Naples. Your account of our Friend’s state of health gives me much concern; the more, as I cannot approve the change he has made of a physician. You say, the doctor, under whose care he is at present, has employed his mind so entirely in medical researches, that he scarcely displays a grain of common sense, when the conversation turns on any other subject; and that, although he seems opinionative, vain, and ostentatious in his profession, and full of false and absurd ideas in the common affairs of life, yet he is a very able physician, and has performed many wonderful cures. Be assured, my dear Sir, that this is impossible; for medical skill is not like the rod of an inchanter, which may be found accidentally, and which transfers its miraculous powers indiscriminately to a blockhead or a man of sense. The number of weak, gossipping men, who have made fortunes by this profession, do not prove the contrary. I do not say that men of that kind cannot make fortunes; I only assert they are not the most likely to cure diseases. An interest with apothecaries, nurses, and a few talkative old ladies, will enable them to do the first; but a clear understanding, and a considerable share of natural sagacity, are qualities essentially necessary for the second, and for every business which requires reflection. Without these, false inferences will be drawn from experience itself; and learning will tend to confirm a man in his errors, and to render him more completely a coxcomb.