prairies, and called by him "The Oregon Trail." Unfortunately,
the book was not the only outcome. The illness incurred during
his journey from fatigue and exposure was followed by other
disorders. The light of the sun became insupportable, and his
nervous vous system was entirely deranged. His sight was now so
impaired that he was almost blind, and could neither read nor
write. It was a terrible prospect for a brilliant and ambitious
man, but Parkman faced it unflinchingly. He devised a frame by
which he could write with closed eyes, and books and manuscripts
were read to him. In this way he began the history of "The
Conspiracy of Pontiac," and for the first half-year the rate of
composition covered about six lines a day. His courage was
rewarded by an improvement in his health, and a little more quiet
in nerves and brain. In two and a half years he managed to
complete the book. He then entered upon his great subject of
"France in the New World." The material was mostly in manuscript,
and had to be examined, gathered, and selected in Europe and in
Canada. He could not read, he could write only a very little and
that with difficulty, and yet he pressed on. He slowly collected
his material and digested and arranged it, using the eyes of
others to do that which he could not do himself, and always on
the verge of a complete breakdown of mind and body. In 1851 he
had an effusion of water on the left knee, which stopped his
outdoor exercise, on which he had always largely depended. All
the irritability of the system then centered in the head,
resulting in intense pain and in a restless and devouring
activity of thought. He himself says: "The whirl, the confusion,
and strange, undefined tortures attending this condition are only
to be conceived by one who has felt them." The resources of
surgery and medicine were exhausted in vain. The trouble in the