Nearly every living person has some idea, of greater or less intensity, of pores in the skin; at least, they use language which implies such an idea. They talk, often, of the necessity of keeping these pores open. But how is it to be done? Not certainly while they use little or no muscular exercise, by washing, once a day, their hands and faces merely, or, as some say, their fingers, their noses, and the tips of their chins. They may talk, on occasions, very boldly and flippantly, about _sweating_ away a cold, as they term it; but do they vainly suppose that the sweat vessels or sweating machinery has nothing to do, from day to day, which might prevent the necessity of resorting to these sweating processes? Miss L. appeared to be in utter ignorance of any laws of the skin, or of the digestive or muscular systems. And yet her thoughts had been turned, often and frequently, to her own feelings and sensations. She would talk, almost incessantly, if anybody would hear her, about her aches and pains, and could describe her whole train of feelings, from morning to evening, with a faithfulness and patience and minuteness that would have furnished a genius less than Defoe with material sufficient for quite a huge volume. Now I could have visited and counselled Miss L., at least once a week, with great profit to herself, had she been as intelligent, in general, as she was familiar with her own sensations. As things were, her confidence was rather more troublesome than agreeable; but she was, practically, a standing patient; and physicians, as you know, cannot choose. They must be, among mankind, like the Great Physician, as they who "_serve_;" not as those who are _to be served_, or accommodated. And they must serve those who come to them. Miss L. was evidently somewhat disappointed, when she found I was not disposed to give her any medicine. A little, she thought, might sometimes be useful; a great deal she did not believe in, of course. Experience had forced upon her some of the lessons of wisdom. However, she contrived to fasten a good deal of faith on the laws of health, which I continually held forth to her. In particular, I urged on her the necessity of endeavoring to keep up what I was wont to call a centrifugal tendency in her system. A good plump, healthful, ever active, and ever vigorous skin was, as I told her, our only hope in her case. As a means to this end, and also as a means of withdrawing her attention from the slavery of a constant attendance on her own sensations, I urged her to mingle with society much more, and go about doing good to others, on the great principle, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." I warned her, however, against the danger of falling into the habit of giving an account of herself--her woes and sorrows--to every one she might meet with, who should kindly inquire about her condition, since it would greatly retard her improvement, even if it did not keep up or renew her disease.