And yet he finally recovered, though I hardly know how. Such cases force me to the acknowledgment that human physical nature is tough, that we are machines made to live. Were it not so, this dyspeptic friend of mine must, at a comparatively early age, have sank to the grave, a victim of ignorance. He has, however, acquired wisdom in the school of experience. A brother of his, who was my patient in a similar complaint, and from similar causes, recovered in a very few months. But he was not a mere weathercock. CHAPTER LXXXIV. MEASLES WITHOUT SNAKEROOT AND SAFFRON. In the early part of the year 1854, measles prevailed considerably, and was rather severe even under the most favorable circumstances. In our cities, such as New York and Boston, it destroyed a great number of valuable lives. It was by no means confined to children; it attacked adults, who had hitherto escaped it, as well as children. One of my most intimate female friends, who was over forty years of age, had often been exposed to it without taking it, and had begun to hope she should escape through life. The family to which she belonged had it, and in the end a blow fell on her. It alarmed her most fearfully. She declared, again and again, that she should not and could not survive it, and her fears greatly aggravated the severity of her symptoms. She was well acquainted with the most enlightened views on the subject of disease, and though her fears were great, she endeavored to pursue the proper course at first, which, as she knew, consisted mainly in supporting her strength as much as possible, in the most appropriate and healthful ways. She had no thought, it would seem, of taking medicine. But she had neighbors,--some of them of the gossiping kind,--who called on her frequently, to convince her of the necessity of _taking something to bring out the measles_, and to relate the pitiful story of Mr. and Mrs. Such-an-one, who perished because they would do nothing to save themselves, and to entreat her to take at least a little saffron and snakeroot tea. And they had some influence with her; not indeed at first, but after she became weakened by the disease. Drowning people, it is said, catch at straws. I was called to see her late one Saturday evening. She did not know, as she said, that any medicine was needed, but as she was considerably advanced in life, and many had sunk under the disease of late, and as she had such a continual feeling of depression and fainting, she thought it barely possible I might think it advisable to give her some little thing to make her feel more comfortable.