At times, indeed, Hope will triumph for a brief interval, and "tell of bright days to come." Hope! the glorious phantom that we follow up the Rhine--through the deep glens of the Tyrol, and over the Alps!--Only content to die when we have lost it!
There are men to whom the truth, however shocking, is always revealed--to whom the Lawyer says, "You have no case," and the Physician confesses, "You have no constitution." Happily or unhappily--I will not deny it may be both--I am one of these. Of the three doctors summoned to consult on my health, one spoke confidently and cheeringly; he even assumed that kind of professional jocularity that would imply, "the patient is making too much of it." The second, more reserved from temperament, and graver, counselled caution and great care--hinted at the danger of the malady--coupling his fears with the hopes he derived from the prospect of climate. The third (he was younger than either of the others, and of inferior repute,) closed the door after them, and resumed his seat.
I waited for some time expecting him to speak, but he sat in silence, and seemingly in deep thought. "And you, my dear doctor," said I at length, "are you equally confident as your learned colleagues? Will the air of Italy----?" He lifted up his eyes as I got so far, and their expression I shall not readily forget--so softly tender, so full of compassionate pity, did they beam. Never did a look convey more of sorrowing regret, nor more of blank despair. I hesitated---on _his_ account I feared to finish what I had begun; but, as if replying to the expression of his glance, I added, "But still you advise me to go? You counsel the journey, at least?"
He blushed deeply before he could answer. He felt ashamed that he had failed in one great requisite of his art. I hastened to relieve him, by saying with a joyous air, "Well, I will go. I like the notion myself; it is at least a truce with physic. It is like drawing a game before one has completely lost it."
And so here I am--somewhat wearied and fevered by the unaccustomed exertion, but less so than I expected.
I sincerely hope it is only the fastidiousness of a sick man, and not that most insufferable of all affectations--exclusiveness; but I will own I never disliked the mixed company of a steam-boat so much before. It is always an unpleasant part of our English travelling-experience, that little steam trip from our own coast to the French or Belgian shore. The pleasuring Cockney, only sufferable when sick--the runaway Bank clerk--the Hamburg Jew--the young lady going to Paris for spring fashions--the newly-married barrister, with his bit of tawdry finery from Norwood, silly, simpering, and fidgetty--the Irish landlord, sulky and familiar by turns; all, even to the _Danseuse_, who, too refined for such association, sits in her carriage on deck, have a terrible sameness when seen, as I have done them, something like fifty times; nor can I suppose their united attractions greatly heightened by the figure of the pale gentleman, who coughs so incessantly, and whose wan cheek and colourless eye are seen to such formidable contrast with the bronzed and resolute face of the courier beside him.