I did not chance to fall in with Mr. P. for several months, and out of respect to his feelings and those of Mrs. P., I did not depart from my usual track to call on them or even write. At the end of the year, however, I visited them, and after the usual passing remarks, the following conversation took place. "It seems, then, that Dr. Rush with all his wisdom and skill could not save Thomas." "No; he said it was too late for any power of earth or heaven to cure him." "But he was very confident he could cure him?" "Perhaps he spoke with more confidence than he really felt, in order to encourage us and lead us to exert ourselves." "Do I understand you? Do you mean to say that perhaps the spirit doctors, like the fleshly ones, in order to encourage the friends of the sick, will depart a little from the truth?" "Not exactly that. Rather this: we do not consider it a departure from the truth." "I am of a different opinion. In earth, or elsewhere, I call such a course as you intimate a species of white lying--quite common on earth, but which, till now, I did not suppose had found its way to the confines of the world spiritual." The conversation ended here, and was not afterward resumed. I have, indeed, witnessed a good deal of spiritual doctoring since that time, but it was of a somewhat different character from the foregoing. For example: I saw a family in the interior of Massachusetts, whose faith in spiritualism and spirit doctrine was perfect. The mistress of the house was the patient. The physician a young man who had been a mechanic, but who had very recently become convinced that it was his duty to attend the sick,--not to do anything for them, on his own responsibility, but only to suffer an old Indian physician to operate through him as a medium. The chief thing which Dr. H. did, so far as I observed, was to lay his hands on her, and sit for some time in that position. I am not sure that he did not prescribe a few very simple things, from time to time, such as a little weak tea, or the infusion of some domestic herb, from the garden. He was counted, everywhere (for his circuit was a large one), very successful; for his patients generally recovered. Their recovery, it is true, was often very slow. CHAPTER LXXXI. REMARKABLE CURE OF EPILEPSY. When I was a lad, a man was employed by my father on his farm, who used occasionally to fall down in convulsions, lie for some time, not entirely still, but foaming at the mouth and agitated or rocked to and fro, as if in great distress; and yet, as I afterward learned, senseless. These attacks, they told me, were _falling sickness_ fits. The man was weak in mind, and not vigorous in body, though, by diligence and perseverence, he could accomplish something in the progress of a whole day. He died but little beyond middle age.