P.—O yes; you know, mother, my head is always burning hot, and aches most dreadfully too. D.—At what time of day does it ache most? P.—It aches all the time; it’s never right. D.—How do you feel in the morning when you get up? P.—Very badly; I never sleep well; I feel heavy and weak, and my head aches. D.—How do you feel when you walk out in the open air? P.—Well, I can hardly say; in fact I don’t feel as if I _could_ walk. It is as much as I can do to get up and eat breakfast and fix off for school. D.—Did you ever go to the country in the summer? P.—O yes, to Massachusetts. D.—How did you feel there? Could you walk? P.—O yes; we had walking parties, rides, visitings, and a great many things to take the attention; and I, in fact, either forgot all my ailments, or else had none, I don’t know which. I have been to the country a number of times, and whenever I go all my headache leaves me, my appetite becomes good, and I am soon able to bear as much exercise as any one need. D.—Do you have any headache? P.—Strange as it may seem, not the least. D.—Do you study your books much in the country? P.—No, very little; we go for relaxation and amusement; we read, perhaps, a little, but do not undertake hard study. D.—How much do you walk or ride in the day? P.—Well, I can’t tell; we go sometimes in one direction and sometimes in another. We even walk to neighboring villages; we go some days, I should think, in all ten miles on foot; and I think, indeed, sometimes twice that distance. D.—Does this give you fatigue? P.—It does at first, sometimes; but somehow my mind becomes so interested with the country, I forget all my aches and pains; you know I have always lived in the city, and the country seems to me a new life; I seem to feel as happy as the birds. D.—How do you sleep at night? P.—It’s a rude place you know, and it is fashionable in the summer there to sleep on straw beds. But it is no matter; we get so tired as to be very glad to sleep any where. We could sleep on the floor, or sitting up in a chair if necessary; when we get so tired sleep we must. D.—How long do you stay in the country? P.—Six weeks, and sometimes more. D.—What kind of food do you eat? P.—Plain food, such as the country people have. I generally take bread, vegetables, berries, and milk. They have hams, pork, all sorts of meat, and things of that kind; but you know father does not wish me to eat meat; nor have I any particular relish for it. I sometimes eat a little fresh butter along with my brown bread; I suppose I would be just as well off without even that; I enjoy the bread, berries, and milk very much. D.—Does food agree with you in the country? P.—Generally very well. D.—How do you feel after you get back to the city? P.—Very well for a time. M.—I guess you would think so, doctor. She acts like a perfect romp; there is no keeping her any where.