"I have heard our poor friend, in one of the most eloquent of his pleadings, give a description of this very disease, which he compared to the tortures inflicted by Mezentius when he chained the dead to the living.

The soul, he said, is imprisoned in its dungeon of flesh, and though retaining its natural and unalienable properties, can no more exert them than the captive enclosed within a prison-house can act as a free agent.

Alas! to see HIM, who could so well describe what this malady was in others, a prey himself to its infirmities! I shall never forget the solemn tone of expression with which he summed up the incapacities of the paralytic--the deafened ear, the dimmed eye, the crippled limbs--in the noble words of Juvenal,-- "'Omni Membrorum damno major, dementia, quae nec Nomina servorum, nec vultum agnoscit amici.'" As the physician repeated these lines, a flash of intelligence seemed to revive in the invalid's eye--sunk again--again struggled, and he spoke more intelligibly than before, and in the tone of one eager to say something which he felt would escape him unless said instantly.

"A question of death-bed, a question of death-bed, doctor--a reduction EX CAPITE LECTI--Withering against Wilibus--about the MORBUS SONTICUS.

I pleaded the cause for the pursuer--I, and--and--why, I shall forget my own name--I, and--he that was the wittiest and the best-humoured man living--" The description enabled the doctor to fill up the blank, and the patient joyfully repeated the name suggested.