Professor Huxley very wisely says, that Nature gives us a blow and leaves us to find out its meaning. More than that, she never stops giving us blows until we have succeeded in doing so. It must be candidly admitted that we are inexpressibly dull and require many very hard knocks, and that when some one else is knocked and not ourselves, we are apt to be extremely heartless. It is only lately that the majority of non-medical people have become conscious of possessing a nervous system at all. We still hear even educated persons talk of their nerves as though they were something spiritual--as though nervous disorder were not a physical disease. Such inexcusable ignorance leads to shadowy, pernicious ideas about the impossibility of curing the malady, or, supposing it to be regarded as curable, to the adoption of cruel and fantastic methods of treatment. If only we were forced to have all our remedies tried on ourselves before trying them on others, patients would henceforth have a better time of it. Unfortunately, many supposed remedies which are not unpleasant to the healthy are torture to the diseased. I regret to say, that I still come across people who regard nervous prostration as sheer wickedness and obstinacy on the part of the sufferer. Indeed, I have even heard the grace of God and a change of heart talked about by excellent women as the only cure for cases that had come under their notice. Far be it from me to underrate the power of any good influence; but you have only to suggest that asthma shall be treated by spiritual influence, and you will find that the good folks regard you as a lunatic or as a profane person. Asthma being undoubtedly a nervous disease, these distinctions are a little puzzling. I have even heard of church-going being suggested as a remedy for nervous excitability, regardless of the ventilation of the building, the length of the sermon, and the tunefulness of the singing. Now, with all due respect for church-going, I sometimes cannot help regretting that the friends and advisers of the nervous do not believe in charms, like the Neapolitans. If charms do no good, at all events they do no harm; and if ignorant superstition must find vent, it is well if we can, at least, render it innocuous. The spiritual treatment of the diseased is nothing new; on the contrary, it is hallowed by ancient custom. Anna of Saxony, the insane wife of William the Silent, was shut up by her father in a miserable room, and by his orders preached to daily, through a hole in the door, by a minister of religion. But perhaps the poor lady suffered from insomnia! Unfortunately the preaching proved ineffectual, for she died raving mad.