And in this same letter, after six months' instruction, as aforesaid, he undertakes to tell me what his habits of living are, which, despite of all said and done, in the way of personal counsel and nearly twenty letters, strangely reads thus:-- "I use some milk three times a day, and almost always soak my toasted bread in milk. Since I have been out in the open air, I have usually had some wild game, or a piece of beef steak, or raw eggs, twice a day. My suppers, lately, have been toasted bread, of any convenient kind (usually Graham), with milk, about a tumbler full, at a time, or three-fourths full. I usually eat two apples, with or after each breakfast and dinner. I use considerable cream soaked into my bread, when I can obtain it, and some molasses. Now, which is the best for me to use on my bread, at supper time--cream, milk, molasses, or a little butter?--or with my other meals? Is there any objection to my using all these now, in proper quantities? Will a little plain sauce do with my supper? Why do you so strongly object to cream toasts, or cream on bread? Is chewing gum from spruce trees injurious?--or birch bark? Any objections to eating two sour apples after breakfast and dinner?" Now the great difficulty with this young man was, that he had but little faith, either in me or in principles--though if I would direct him, from step to step, like a child, he would obey me, for the moment: though, like a child, too, he would forget my directions at almost the next moment, and ask for information on the very same point. Was not such a trial almost too great? However, he was destined to survive it, to live on in spite of it, notwithstanding my after fears. In March, 18--, he wrote me as follows:-- "As I have been getting better all the while, and have troubled you with so many little queries from time to time, I thought I would delay this letter a while. My health has been constantly improving all winter, and I think I have not enjoyed as good health before for many years. People now say, 'How well you are looking!' and 'How fleshy you are!' I mean to live according to the '_laws_.'" In short, this young sufferer from dyspepsia in one of its worst forms, after more than half a year of works without faith, and of whining and complaining a part of the time, without either works or faith, is at last shouting victory! And a glorious victory it is! Would that the rest of our dyspeptics, with land by millions, might stand on as good a footing, with as good prospects before them, as this young man! And yet he might have come up to the same point long ago, had he used more common sense, and exercised but a little more faith and trust in just hygienic principles. CHAPTER XCVII DISEASES OF LICENTIOUSNESS. Not far from the end of July, 1857, I received the following, in a letter through the post office, as usual, and dated at Boston, but signed by a name probably fictitious.