"'The people have been so kind. I think the Americans must be the kindest people in the world; and good too. I cannot believe that all the wickedness they talk of out yonder can come from anything but ignorance of the Word. I am certain it cannot. And that encourages me mightily. Why, down in Bellefont they told me that Eucalyptus here was a little nest of iniquity; they spoke of it as of some City of the Plain. And what have I found? Well, the people are indeed as sheep without a shepherd; and who can wonder, seeing that there is not a single House of Prayer kept open in the municipality? There is a great deal of coarse levity, and even profanity of speech, and, I fear, much immoderate drinking; but these are the effects of blindness rather than of wickedness. From the heavier sins--from what I may call actual, conscious vice--Eucalyptus is singularly free. Miss Montmorency, indeed, tells me that in her experience (which, of course, is that of a single lady, and therefore restricted) the moral tone of the town is surprisingly healthy. You understand that I give her judgment no more than its due weight. Still, Miss Montmorency has lived here three years; and for a single lady (and, I may add, the only lady in the place) to pass three years in it entirely unmolested--' "This was too much; and I interrupted him almost at random-- "'You remind me of the purpose of my call. I hope, if only to satisfy Miss Montmorency, you won't mind my sounding your chest and putting a few questions to you.' "Seeing that I had already pulled out my stethoscope, he gave way, feebly protesting that it was not worth my trouble. The examination merely assured me of that which I knew already--that this young man's days were numbered, and the numbers growing small. I need not say I kept this to myself. "'You must let me call again to-morrow,' said I. 'I've a small medicine chest up at the Cornice House, and you want a tonic badly.' "Upon this he began, with a confused look and a slight stammer: 'Do you know--I'm afraid you will think it rude, but I didn't mean it for rudeness--really. Your visit has given me great pleasure--' "It flashed on me that he had called himself 'a poor man.' "'I wasn't proposing to doctor you,' I put in; and it was a shameless lie. 'You may take the tonic or not; it won't do much harm, anyway. But a gentle walk every day among the pines here--the very gentlest, nothing to overtax your strength--will do more for you than any drugs. But if you will let me call, pretty often, and have a talk-- I'm an Englishman, you know, and an English voice is good to hear--' "His face lit up at once. 'Ah, if you would!' said he; and we shook hands."