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A certain man fell sick and took to his bed. He consulted a

number of doctors from time to time, and they all, with one

exception, told him that his life was in no immediate danger, but

that his illness would probably last a considerable time. The one

who took a different view of his case, who was also the last to

be consulted, bade him prepare for the worst: "You have not

twenty-four hours to live," said he, "and I fear I can do

nothing." As it turned out, however, he was quite wrong; for at

the end of a few days the sick man quitted his bed and took a

walk abroad, looking, it is true, as pale as a ghost. In the

course of his walk he met the Doctor who had prophesied his

death. "Dear me," said the latter, "how do you do? You are fresh

from the other world, no doubt. Pray, how are our departed

friends getting on there?" "Most comfortably," replied the other,

"for they have drunk the water of oblivion, and have forgotten

all the troubles of life.