Every moment in the intervals of my visits to the sick was employed in prescribing, in my own house, for the poor, or in sending answers to messages from my patients; time was now too precious to be spent in counting the number of persons who called upon me for advice. From circumstances I believe it was frequently 150, and seldom less than 50 in a day, for five or six weeks. The evening did not bring with it the least relaxation from my labours. I received letters every day from the country, and from distant parts of the union, containing inquiries into the mode of treating the disease, and after the health and lives of persons who had remained in the city. The business of every evening was to answer these letters, also to write to my family. These employments, by affording a fresh current to my thoughts, kept me from dwelling on the gloomy scenes of the day. After these duties were performed, I copied into my note book all the observations I had collected during the day, and which I had marked with a pencil in my pocket-book in sick rooms, or in my carriage. To these constant labours of body and mind were added distresses from a variety of causes. Having found myself unable to comply with the numerous applications that were made to me, I was obliged to refuse many every day. My sister counted forty-seven in one forenoon before eleven o'clock. Many of them left my door with tears, but they did not feel more distress than I did from refusing to follow them. Sympathy, when it vents itself in acts of humanity, affords pleasure, and contributes to health; but the reflux of pity, like anger, gives pain, and disorders the body. In riding through the streets, I was often forced to resist the entreaties of parents imploring a visit to their children, or of children to their parents. I recollect, and even _yet_ with pain, that I tore myself at one time from five persons in Moravian-alley, who attempted to stop me, by suddenly whipping my horse, and driving my chair as speedily as possible beyond the reach of their cries. The solicitude of the friends of the sick for help may further be conceived of, when I add, that the most extravagant compensations were sometimes offered for medical services, and, in one instance, for only a single visit. I had no merit in refusing these offers, and I have introduced an account of them only to inform such physicians as may hereafter be thrown into a similar situation, that I was favoured with an exemption from the fear of death, in proportion as I subdued every selfish feeling, and laboured exclusively for the benefit of others. In every instance in which I was forced to refuse these pathetic and earnest applications, my distress was heightened by the fear that the persons, whom I was unable to visit, would fall into improper hands, and perish by the use of bark, wine, and laudanum.