The course which was pursued in another case, was quite a different one. The patient was a clergyman, who had the impression strongly fastened upon his mind that he should certainly die, and could not be made to admit by the force of any reasoning, the possibility even of his recovery. It was not an opinion founded upon evidence, but it was a fixed state of mind, which was the product of the disease. It was important to remove, if possible, this all-absorbing thought, for it was reacting unfavorably upon the disease itself. It could not be done by argument, nor by speaking to him the words of hope; for it was not a conviction of truth arrived at by any reasoning, but an impression unaccountable, but strong and vivid. He did not _think_ that he should die, but he _felt_ that he _knew_ it. Some remedy, then, different from either of these, was necessary. As he was a man of stern, decided religious principle, I determined to make a bold onset in that quarter. I told him that God alone knew whether he would die or recover, and that he was doing wrong—absolutely committing high-handed sin, in setting himself up as knowing what God only knows. This was the substance of what I said to him, and it produced the desired effect. The impression was dislodged from his mind, and though he occasionally talked discouragingly of the result of his sickness, he never said after that, that he _knew_ that he should die. One other case I will relate, in which the course taken to destroy the diseased mental impression was of still a different character. A patient, a gentleman of superior mental and moral qualities, sent for me to inform me that he had received a revelation, in which God had forbidden him to eat or drink or sleep. The confidence which he manifested in me by sending for me determined in my mind at once the course to be pursued. I told him that I had also had a revelation, which was quite as good as his, perhaps better. ‘And,’ said I, assuming the air of calm authority that expects submission as a matter of course, ‘you must obey it.’ ‘What is your revelation,’ he inquired. ‘My revelation,’ said I, ‘embraces all that is necessary in your case. And in obedience to it you must continue to follow my directions, and you must eat and drink and sleep as you have done.’ I left him with my revelation fastened in his mind, it having supplanted his altogether, and he immediately ate and drank, and that night slept as well as he usually did. In chronic cases especially, the sick are often prevented from recovering by the influence of unpleasant circumstances in their situation, or in their relation to others around them. The friends of the sick often get out of patience with them in the tediousness of a long confinement. Sometimes there is unkindness, and this to the weakened mind and depressed spirits of the invalid, is often a burden that cannot be borne. Some secret grief often neutralizes the influence of medicine.