"Doctor, I am desirous that you should see my daughter. I fear that you can do little more than palliate her condition, but even that would be very much for us. She is a great sufferer, and I shall be extremely grateful for anything you can do for her." The Doctor immediately signified his readiness to see her whenever it pleased the Count. "That north wind is still howling, and I am only too happy to be of service to your daughter, or any of God's suffering children while I am with you. Keep me busy as you like, Count. My greatest delight is to cure the sick, and the world is my field since I started on this trip for the Pole." The Count touched a bell, and a female servant entered. He gave her some orders in Russian. She returned in a few moments and spoke to him. "My daughter is ready to receive us. Will you go up to her now, sir?" "This is my daughter Feodora, Doctor Jones," said the Count as they entered her room. A tall, graceful young lady of twenty arose from a couch upon which she had been lying, and extended a thin feverish hand to the Doctor. She spoke to him in beautiful English, and Dr. Jones expressed surprise in his face so that the Count said: "I spent several years in London, and Feodora became very proficient in the language there." They were all seated, and, after a few casual remarks, Dr. Jones requested Feodora to relate to him the history of her illness, and as she did so, he carefully noted her symptoms in his case-book. He interrupted her as little as possible, preferring to take down the history in her own language. After she had finished he made a physical examination of her chest. First, he carefully percussed both lungs; that is, laid the fingers of the left hand upon the chest and tapped them lightly with the finger ends of the right hand, thus producing a more or less resonant or hollow sound. He could thus detect any consolidated tissue that might be in the lung, or abnormal resonance where there chanced to be a cavity. He then, with a stethoscope, ausculated the lungs, or listened to the respiratory sounds. He noted the temperature; rate and other qualities of the pulse; looked at the tongue and sputa. Having now a complete picture of the case or what he termed the "totality of the symptoms," he said: "I must consult my library a few moments. I will be back within an hour." He hastened to the cage, ascended to the cabin, and in a few moments was oblivious to everything but the salvation of this precious young life. He transcribed from his case-book to a sheet of paper the most prominent, unusual, and persistent symptoms. They were: 1. Weeps much, and cannot bear to be left alone. Fears she will die. 2. Great difficulty in breathing; worse from exertion and after coughing. 3. Dry, teasing cough, more or less day and night. In paroxysms from tickling in the throat, with tenacious mucus, which she cannot raise, and must be swallowed. Sputa sometimes consists of pus, mixed with blood.