When the doctor’s fiat goes forth that his patient is to visit this or that bath for the benefit of his health, far more is implied in the injunction than the mere use of water, whether mineral or indifferent, hot or cold. It means that the sufferer is to leave his usual place of abode, and the climate which may perhaps have been instrumental in working him ill; to forsake the numerous causes of mental worry and bodily fatigue which may be connected with his occupation or his family cares; to bid adieu for a while to the cook--good, bad, or indifferent--who perhaps has tickled his palate to the ruin of his stomach, and the cellar which has daily furnished those wines which, gravitating to the toes, have necessitated the big boot and the stout staff; to turn his back for a season on all that is implied in the words “good society,” and exchange all these for something else. Whether that exchange will be beneficial or otherwise will depend upon the knowledge of the patient possessed by the adviser--knowledge, not only of his constitution and his ailments, but of his pocket and his inclinations. The man of cultured mind, like Sir Francis Head, whose diary of life at Langen Schwalbach forms so charming a volume, who is able to find amusement in the contemplation of human nature, or of natural phenomena, who “Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything;” whose resources are within himself, will find his recreation everywhere, and provided the place to which he is sent be wholesome, he will get all the benefits which are derivable from change of scene and air. It would be cruel and useless, however, to send the votary of pleasure to a resort where art provides nothing for the amusement of the guests, and equally useless to condemn a man accustomed to a simple country life to mingle all day long in a fashionable crowd, intent on artificial joys. There is no doubt that on the Continent the arrangements for the comfort and amusement of guests visiting a bath are more perfect than they are in this country; and the invalid who crosses the “silver streak” which separates us from the rest of Europe will find a greater difficulty in continuing in that groove of existence which, mayhap, has been prejudicial to him. On the other hand it must not be forgotten that to many persons foreign travel is exceedingly distasteful. There are many who know no language but English, and whose prejudices are so in favour of English manners and customs that they cannot be induced to fall in with Continental habits. We remember seeing a gentleman at a fashionable bath abroad, whither he had been sent for the relief of his gout, who was evidently most grievously bored by the process of cure. He associated with none, dined alone, and day after day partook, in a solitary corner of a restaurant, of a fried sole, a mutton chop, stilton cheese, and a pint of dry sherry.