"The handsome and good-natured driver offered me the best half of the road; but still I lingered till the last notes of the song died away, when I drove past the 'Sanatorian,' wondering to myself what singing had to do with his increasing prosperity." The remainder of the sketch is from the pen of a lady in Vermont:-- "I think it was during the spring of 1867 that our little 'city on the lake' was visited by the above remarkable character. We are often visited by migratory physicians, who are usually of the 'come-and-go' order; but this one burst upon us like a comet, with dazzling splendor, briefly announced, but at once proclaimed his determination of returning with the regularity of the full moon--repeating his visits every month. Few believed his last arrangement could be carried out, as his predecessors had generally fleeced the invalid public to their utmost at one visit, and if they ever again appeared, it would be under another name and phase. It soon became evident that one visit could not repay the outlay, for no ready posting-board was large enough to hold the agent's posters, which were printed in strips some twenty-five feet in length, and his advertisements occupied one, two, or more columns of the public journals, while he flooded the houses with his pictorial circulars. [Illustration: THE SINGING DOCTOR.] "He was merely announced as 'The Sanatorian,' but was indorsed (true or false?) by some of New England's most respectable people. He came in grand style, as the papers briefly announced, thus:-- "'_The Sanatorian._ This distinguished physician proposes visiting us on the 18th inst.... The doctor comes in great style.... He has the finest carriage, and the gayest four black Morgan horses we have ever had the pleasure of riding after.' [Illustration: THE SANATORIAN'S TURNOUT.] "The driver, a handsome fellow, with full brown whiskers, curling hair, and a 'heavenly blue eye,' had taken the editor and writer of this last paragraph out to an airing. The team was photographed by the artists, and many of the best citizens had the pleasure of a ride in the easy carriage, and behind the swift ponies. "The doctor usually remained _incog._ to the public. If they wished to see him, they must go to his 'parlors' at the best hotels. They did go. And now the most remarkable part of the affair remains to be recorded. An editor who interviewed him reports thus: 'The doctor rocks in a rocking-chair,--in fact, never sits in anything else,--or arises and walks the floor, and instantly, _at a glance_, tells every patient each pain and ache better than the patient could describe them himself. 'Are you a clairvoyant?' the editor asked. "'_Faugh! No, sir._ Clairvoyancy is a humbug; merely power of mind over mind. A clairvoyant can go no farther than your _own_ knowledge leads him, unless he guesses the rest,' was his emphatic reply.