There are few more common errors than that which assumes lowness of spirits to be a state in which an appeal should be made to the sufferer. We constantly find intelligent and experienced persons, who show considerable skill in dealing with other mental disorders and disturbances, fail in the attempt to relieve the pains of melancholy. They strive by entreaty, expostulation, firmness, and even brusqueness, to coerce the victim, and prevail upon him to shake off his despondency. They urge him to take an interest in what is passing around, to bestir himself, and put an end to his broodings. This would be all very well if the burden that presses so heavily on the spirit simply lay on the surface, but the lowness of which I am speaking is something far deeper than can be reached by “rallying.” It is a freezing of all the energies; a blight which destroys the vitality, a poison which enervates and paralyzes the whole system. It is no use probing the consciousness for the cause while the depression lasts—as well look for the weapon by which a man has been struck senseless to the earth, when the victim lies faint and bleeding in need of instant succor. If the cause were found at such a moment, nothing could be done to prevent its further mischief. Supposing it to be discovered that the malady is the fruit of some evil-doing or wrong management of self, the moment when a crushed spirit is undergoing the penalty of its error is not that which should be selected for remonstrance. It is vain to argue with a man whose every faculty of self-control is at its lowest ebb. The judgment and the will are dormant. The show of feeling made by the conscience in the hour of dejection is in great part emotional, and the purposes then formed are sterile. The tears of regret, the efforts of resolve, elicited in the state of depression, are worse than useless; they are like the struggles of a man sinking in the quicksand—they bury the mind deeper instead of freeing it.