cheerfully, and do not make them all wretched by kicking against the pricks. And, above all, remember if you have a disease to keep the fact to yourself and to your doctor; no one else wants to hear about it, and it is interesting to no one else. If you become an invalid you can be both cheerful and useful, although I know how hateful--how truly hateful--it is to put up the once active feet, and cross the once busy hands, and simply listen to what we once used to do. I know too that a good listener is highly appreciated, and that many a happy home finds the heart of the house round the invalid sofa, where can always be found someone who is always at home, always disengaged, always willing to help and anxious to hear, and who has a most profound interest in all that is going on, despite the fact that she is out of the action, and can only take a passive part in the life that seemed once as if it could never go on without her. Moreover, an invalid should never become absorbed in herself, in her treatment, her medicine, and the progress of her malady; having found her doctor to be trustworthy, she should do as he tells her, and after his visit she should utterly decline to speak of herself; she should read, if possible work (how I do wish I could sew, or knit, or do anything on earth save read and write!), and, above all she should be absolutely nice and particular about her clothes, which should never degenerate (unless it is absolutely necessary) into the dressing-gown stage. Loose garments are untidy, and anything untidy or ‘dressing-gowny’ assists the invalid idea, which should be kept in the background as much as possible. Then there is another thing I should like to mention, and that is that invalids should always have their affairs settled, and their wishes as regards the future of their children or their property entirely and properly understood--that is to say, understood and settled as far as anything can be settled that is so unknown as the future--and while a man is an absolute criminal who neglects to make his will, a woman is equally foolish who, having strong feelings on subjects which will concern her children, or may be the place of her burial, does not write such a letter on the subject to her husband, to be opened after her death, as shall lay all her wishes before him, but only as wishes: the dead hand should never fetter anyone; at best it should only indicate the course which the owner would have followed.