“This, then, was the state of things when I first came to the canton, which has several contented, well-tilled, and fairly prosperous communes belonging to it upon the other side of the mountains.  I will say nothing about the hovels in the town; they were neither more nor less than stables, in which men and animals were indiscriminately huddled together.  As there was no inn in the place, I was obliged to ask the curate for a bed, he being in possession, for the time being, of this house, then offered for sale.  Putting to him question after question, I came to have some slight knowledge of the lamentable condition of the country with the pleasant climate, the fertile soil, and the natural productiveness that had impressed me so much.

“At that time, sir, I was seeking to shape a future for myself that should be as little as possible like the troubled life that had left me weary; and one of those thoughts came into my mind that God gives us at times, to enable us to take up our burdens and bear them.  I resolved to develop all the resources of this country, just as a tutor develops the capacities of a child.  Do not think too much of my benevolence; the pressing need that I felt for turning my thoughts into fresh channels entered too much into my motives.  I had determined to give up the remainder of my life to some difficult task.  A lifetime would be required to bring about the needful changes in a canton that Nature had made so wealthy, and man so poor; and I was tempted by the practical difficulties that stood in the way.  As soon as I found that I could secure the cure’s house and plenty of waste land at a small cost, I solemnly devoted myself to the calling of a country surgeon —­the very last position that a man aspires to take.  I determined to become the friend of the poor, and to expect no reward of any kind from them.  Oh!  I did not indulge in any illusions as to the nature of the country people, nor as to the hindrances that lie in the way of every attempt to bring about a better state of things among men or their surroundings.  I have never made idyllic pictures of my people; I have taken them at their just worth—­as poor peasants, neither wholly good nor wholly bad, whose constant toil never allows them to indulge in emotion, though they can feel acutely at times.  Above all things, in fact, I clearly understood that I should do nothing with them except through an appeal to their selfish interests, and by schemes for their immediate well-being.  The peasants are one and all the sons of St. Thomas, the doubting apostle—­they always like words to be supported by visible facts.