nor warnings. Very often such were desired, more commonly they were
given unsought, as but a part of that duty which the physician feels, a
duty which is but half fulfilled when we think of the body as our only
province.

Many times I have been asked if there were no book that helpfully dealt
with some of the questions which a weak or nervous woman, or a woman who
has been these, would wish to have answered. I knew of none, nor can I
flatter myself that the parts of this present little volume, in which I
have sought to aid this class of patients, are fully adequate to the
purpose.

I was tempted when I wrote these essays to call them lay sermons, so
serious did some of their subjects seem to me. They touch, indeed, on
matters involving certain of the most difficult problems in human life,
and involve so much that goes to mar or make character, that no man
could too gravely approach such a task. Not all, however, of these
chapters are of this nature, and I have, therefore, contented myself
with a title which does not so clearly suggest the preacher.

It would be scarcely correct to state that their substance or advice was
personally addressed to those still actually nervous. To them a word or
two of sustaining approval, a smiling remonstrance, or a few phrases of
definite explanation, are all that the wise and patient doctor should
then wish to use. Constant inquiries and a too great appearance of what
must be at times merely acted interest, are harmful.

When I was a small boy, my father watched me one day hoeing in my little
garden. In reply to a question, I said I was digging up my potatoes to
see if they were growing. He laughed, and returned, "When you are a man,