Another difficulty is often found to arise, from the almost exclusive occupation of the physician’s mind by the diseased condition of the sufferer, the relief of which is, of course, our primary and incumbent duty. In order to give to each symptom, as well as to the whole assemblage of symptoms, a close and discriminating attention, and to adapt, with equal care, a corresponding treatment in medicine, diet and general management; to do this within a limited space of time, requires a concentration of all the energies of the mind in a degree scarcely compatible with attention to any other subject. Under such circumstances, it is difficult in the extreme, to dispossess the mind of the engrossing anxiety just described, so as to leave it sufficiently free for availing itself of any suitable moment for introducing, with needful delicacy and tenderness, the all-important subject of eternity. How frequently, too, have we found that by the time we have completed our medical inquiries and directions, the patient has become too much exhausted to render any further exertion safe or practicable! In addition to the obstacles already specified, you have probably, my dear friend, sometimes encountered opposition from the mistaken kindness of the patient’s relatives, who have deemed it next to madness to endanger the comfortable serenity of one “whose goodness of heart,” they persuade themselves, “must secure him a happy hereafter.” Generally, however, the confidence reposed in the kindness and discretion of the medical attendant, will soon allay such a feeling of alarm, and afford the assurance that nothing will be attempted of a doubtful or hazardous character. But the most formidable hindrance, I apprehend, exists _within ourselves_. I refer to the prevailing impression among us, that the religious welfare of a patient is foreign to our province; that to aim, in any direct manner, at promoting it, is superfluous, if not also obtrusive; and that the attempt might be regarded, moreover, as an unbecoming interference with the sacred office. The _sedative_ influence of this opinion is often rendered still more paralysing by a consciousness of not possessing the facility and tact supposed to be essential to the success of the effort. Hence, opportunities for speaking “a word in season,” are scarcely looked for or desired. The mind, at length, rests satisfied with an abandonment of the matter, as hopeless and impracticable, not duly considering _whose cause it is_, nor recollecting the divine promise that “strength shall be made perfect in weakness.” Such, my valued friend, are among the difficulties in our way; great, indeed, we must allow them to be, yet, happily, they are not insurmountable.