"God seems to help a man in getting out of every difficulty but opium. There you have to _claw_ your way out over red-hot coals on your hands and knees, and drag yourself by main strength through the burning dungeon-bars." This statement does not exaggerate the feeling of many another opium-eater whom I have known. Now, _such_ a man is a proper subject, not for _reproof_, but for _medical treatment_. The problem of his case need embarrass nobody. It is as purely physical as one of small-pox. When this truth is as widely understood among the laity as it is known by physicians, some progress may be made in staying the frightful ravages of opium among the present generation. Now, indeed, it is a difficult thing to prevent relatives from exacerbating the disorder and the pain of a patient, who, from their uninformed stand-point, seems as sane and responsible as themselves, by reproaches at which they would shudder, as at any other cruelty, could they be brought to realize that their friend is suffering under a disease of the very machinery of volition; and no more to be judged harshly for his acts than a wound for suppurating or the bowels for continuing the peristaltic motion. Finding--as in common with all physicians I have found so many times before--that no control of the case could be obtained while the patient stayed at home, and deeply renewing my often-experienced regret that the science and Christian charity of this country have perfected no scheme by which either inebriates or opium-eaters may be properly treated in a special institution of their own, I was at length reluctantly compelled to send my friend to an ordinary water-cure at some distance from town.