Roll a large handkerchief up _from the side_ (not diagonally) and holding one end firmly, tie a knot in the other end, and place it between the teeth to protect the tongue; or slide the handle of a spoon or a piece of smooth wood between the teeth, and thus hold the tongue down. Soft articles like cork and indiarubber should not be used, for if they are bitten through, the rear portion will fall down the throat and choke the victim. After the fit, lower the head to one side to clear any vomitus which, if left, might be drawn into the windpipe, lift the patient on to a couch, cover him warmly, and let him sleep. An epileptic's bed should be placed on the ground floor; if his bed be upstairs, it is difficult to get him there after an attack, while he may at any time fall downstairs and be killed. Any effort to rouse him will only make the post-epileptic stupor more severe, but whether he sleeps or not, he must carefully be watched, for patients in this state are apt to slip away, often half-clothed, and travel towards nowhere in particular at a wonderfully rapid rate. If several fits follow one another, or if one is very long or severe, send for a doctor. When a seizure occurs in public, a constable should be summoned, who, being a "St. John" man, will be of far more use than bystanders brimming over with sympathy--_and ignorance_. If some kindly householder near by will allow the victim to sleep for an hour or two--a boon usually denied more from fear of recurrence than lack of sympathy, it is better than taking him home. If not, let someone call a cab, and deliver the victim safely to his friends. Every epileptic should carry always with him a card stating his full name and address, with a request that some one present at any seizure will escort him home. If the victim wakes with a headache, give him a 10-grain Aspirin powder, or a 5-grain Phenalgin tablet; _never patent "cures"_. If possible, the patient should lie abed the day after a fit, undisturbed, taking only soda-and-milk and eggs beaten up in _hot_ milk. * * * * * CHAPTER VII NEURASTHENIA "Some of your hurts you have cured, And the worst you still have survived; But what torments of mind you endured From evils which never arrived." --Lowell. To-day, the need to eat forces even sensible men to live--and die--at a feverish rate. In bygone days the world was a peaceful place, in which our forefathers were denied the chance of combining exercise with amusement dodging murderous taxis; knew not the blessings of "Bile Beans", nor the biliousness they blessed either; they did not fall victims to "advert-diseases"; and they left the waters beneath to the fishes, and the skies above to the birds.