The points which I have endeavored to elucidate, in regard to skill in the management of disease, are very commonly disregarded by the community, and too often even by physicians. To impress them more vividly upon the mind of the reader, I will resort to an illustration, in which some of the same principles are applied to quite a different matter. Two travellers are wending their way through a mountain-pass to their home. Their path is a perilous one; now lying along on the very brink of a precipice, and now across a succession of points of rock, with an abyss yawning below. Often the foothold of the traveller is but a slight one, and would scarcely suffice were there not some shrub near by that could be caught hold of, or some projecting point of rock on which he could hook his fingers. One of the travellers is weary and sick, and the other is helping him along. The shades of evening have come on, and the flying clouds occasionally obscure the light of the moon that shines upon their path. It needs a watchful eye, a strong arm, and a firm foot, to go through this pass with safety, even by broad daylight. How fearful, then, are the dangers that threaten the sick traveller? If he were alone, he could not possibly get to the journey’s end. He would fail to reach some foothold, or would let go his grasp upon some shrub, or totter from some giddy height, and be dashed to pieces. His companion sees the difficulties of the task before him, and bidding the poor sick man to be of good cheer, nerves himself for labors that will tax all his strength and all his skill.