It is often very difficult to carry out these principles, especially in families that have but a small number of apartments. The fear of giving offense, too, very often opens the door wide for visitors, against the most positive injunctions of the physician. To obviate this difficulty, I have in some few cases put upon the door a card, forbidding this kind of intrusion—an expedient which I have found to be very successful. One case was that of a clergyman’s family. So many were sick, that the house was a perfect hospital. A large portion of the parish poured in of course, to offer their sympathy and their services. Most of these persons did more harm than good. I attempted to remedy the evil by directions to the nurses, and by conversation with individuals, but in vain. At length I put up a card on the door of the house, to this effect: ‘Visitors are requested to go directly into the parlor. No one is to enter the sick rooms but those who have the care of the sick. No talking in the entry.’ This effected the desired change at once. I introduce this case simply to show the difficulties which exist on this point, especially in country towns, and the very plain remedy which can be applied. There is no reason why a universal rule should not be adopted in every case in which it is deemed necessary by the physician. The attendants on the sick often make a great mistake in supposing the patient to be so fast asleep, or so stupid, as to receive no impressions from their conversation. Often, from this cause, he is obliged to hear what may do him great harm. Amid the confused thoughts of his dreary bewildered state of mind, the idea of his own death is conjured up by some remark, to trouble and affright him. Instead of getting the rest which his wearied body and mind so much need, his nerves are disturbed by the hum of conversation, and his mind is harrassed by a succession of dread thoughts and visions, suggested by remarks, of which it is supposed that he takes no cognizance.