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a proper sense of his perilous situation, I forbear to step out of the bounds of my province in order to offer any advice which is not necessary to promote his cure. At the same time, I think it indispensable to let his friends know the danger of his case the instant I discover it. An arrangement of his worldly affairs, in which the comfort or unhappiness of those who are to come after him is involved, may be necessary; and a suggestion of his danger, by which the accomplishment of this object is to be attained, naturally induces a contemplation of his more important spiritual concerns, a careful review of his past life, and such sincere sorrow and contrition for what he has done amiss, as justifies our humble hope of his pardon and acceptance hereafter. If friends can do their good offices at a proper time, and under the suggestions of the physician, it is far better that they should undertake them than the medical adviser. They do so without destroying his hopes, for the patient will still believe that he has an appeal to his physician beyond their fears; whereas, if the physician lay open his danger to him, however delicately he may do this, he runs a risk of appearing to pronounce a sentence of condemnation to death, against which there is no appeal-no hope; and, on that account, what is most awful to think of, perhaps the sick man's repentance may be less available.
“But friends may be absent, and nobody near the patient in his extremity, of sufficient influence or pretension to inform him of his dangerous condition. And surely it is lamentable to think that any human being should leave the world unprepared to meet his Creator and Judge, ' with all his crimes broad blown! Rather than so, I have departed from my strict professional duty, done that which I would have done by myself
, and apprized my patient of the great change he was about to undergo.'
“Lord Bacon encourages physicians to make it a part of their art to smooth the bed of death, and to render the departure from life easy, placid and gentle. This doctrine, so accordant with the best principles of our nature, commended not only by the wisdom of this consummate philosopher, but also by the experience of one of the most judicious and conscientious physicians of modern times (the late Dr. Heberden) was practised with such happy success in the case of our late lamented sovereign, that at the close of his painful disease ( non tam mori videretur (as was said of a Roman emperor) quam dulci et alto sopore excipi.'”—p. 89.
“Occasionally, the last scene of life is marked by such strength, such unwonted vivacity of thought and solemnity of feeling, as led Aretæus to attribute prophetic power to individuals dying of peculiar maladies -especially of brain fever; the effect of which, when the violence subsides, is, he says, to clear the patient's mind, and render his sensations exquisitely keen. He is the first to discover that he is about to die, and announces this to the attendants; he seems to hold converse
with the spirits of those departed before him, as if they stood in his presence.
To these interesting notices of Sir H. Halford, we add the following remarkable account of the sensations produced by drowning contained in a letter from Admiral Beaufort to Dr. Wollaston, in the Memoirs of Sir John Barrow, just published in London:
“Many years ago, when I was a youngster on board one of his majesty's ships in Portsmouth harbour, after sculling about in a very small boat, I was endeavouring to fasten her alongside the ship to one of the scuttle rings; in foolish eagerness I stepped upon the gunwale, the boat of course upset, and I fell into the water, and not knowing how to swim, all my efforts to lay hold either of the boat or the floating sculls were fruitless. The transaction had not been observed by the sentinel on the gangway, and, therefore, it was not till the tide had dristed me some distance astern of the ship that a man in the foretop saw me splashing in the water, and gave the alarm. The first lieutenant instantly and gallantly jumped overboard, the carpenter followed his example, and the gunner hastened into a boat and pulled after them.
“With the violent but vain attempts to make myself heard, I had swallowed much water; I was soon exhausted by my struggles, and before any relief reached me I had sunk below the surface—all hope had fled -all exertion ceased—and I felt that I was drowning.
“So far, these facts were either partially remembered after my recovery, or supplied by those who had latterly witnessed the scene; for during an interval of such agitation, a drowning person is too much occupied in catching at every passing straw, or too much absorbed by alternate hope and despair, to mark the succession of events very accurately. Not so, however, with the facts which immediately ensued; my mind had then undergone the sudden revolution which appeared to you so remarkable—and all the circumstances of which are now as vividly fresh in my memory as if they had occurred but yesterday.
“From the moment that every exertion had ceased—which I imagine was the immediate consequence of complete suffocation—a calm feeling of the most perfect tranquillity superseded the previous tumultuous sensations—it might be called apathy, certainly not resignation, for drowning no longer appeared to be an evil-I no longer thought of being rescued, nor was I in any bodily pain. On the contrary, my sensations were now of rather a pleasurable cast, partaking of that dull but contented sort of feeling which precedes the sleep produced by fatigue. Though the senses were thus deadened, not so the mind; its activity seemed to be invigorated in a ratio which defies all description--for thought rose after thought with a rapidity of succession that is not only indescribable, but probably inconceivable, by any one who has not himself been in a similar situation. The course of these thoughts I can even now in a great measure retrace--the event which
had just taken place, the awkwardness that had produced it—the bustle it must have occasioned (for I had observed two persons jump from the chains)--the effect it would have on a most affectionate fatherthe manner in which he would disclose it to the rest of the familyand a thousand other circumstances minutely associated with home, were the first series of reflections that occurred. They took then a wider range-our last cruise-a former voyage, and shipwreck—my school—the progress I had made there, and the time I misspent-and even all my boyish pursuits and adventures. Thus travelling backwards, every past incident of my life seemed to glance across my recollection in retrograde succession; not, however, in mere outline, as here stated, but the picture filled up with every minute and collateral feature; in short, the whole period of my existence seemed to be placed before me in a kind of panoramic review, and each act of it seemed to be accompanied by some reflection on its cause, or its consequences; indeed, many trifling events which had been long forgotten then crowded into my imagination, and with the character of recent familiarity. May not all this be some indication of the almost infinite
of memory with which we may awaken in another world, and thus be compelled to contemplate our past lives? Or might it not in some degree warrant the inference that death is only a change or modification of our existence, in which there is no real pause or interruption? But, however that may be, one circumstance was highly remarkable; that the innumerable ideas which flashed into my mind, were all retrospective-yet I had been religiously brought up—my hopes and fears of the next world had lost nothing of their early strength, and at any other period intense interest and awful anxiety would have been excited by the mere probability that I was floating on the threshold of eternity: yet at that inexplicable moment, when I had a full conviction that I had already crossed the threshold, not a single thought wandered into the future-I was wrapped entirely in the past.
“The length of time that was occupied by this deluge of ideas, or rather the shortness of time into which they were condensed, I cannot now state with precision, yet certainly two minutes could not have elapsed from the moment of suffocation to that of my being hauled up.
“The strength of the flood tide made it expedient to pull the boat at once to another ship, where I underwent the usual vulgar process of emptying the water by letting my head hang downwards, then bleeding, chafing, and even administering gin; but my submersion had been really so brief, that, according to the account of the lookers on, I was very quickly restored to animation.
“My feelings while life was returning were the reverse in every point of those which have been described above. One single but confused idea—a miserable belief that I was drowning-dwelt upon my mind, instead of the many clear and definite ideas which had recently
rushed through it—a helpless anxiety-a kind of continuous nightmare, seemed to press heavily on every sense, and to prevent the formation of any one distinct thought-and it was with difficulty that I became convinced that I was really alive. Again; instead of being absolutely free from all bodily pain, as in my drowning state, I was now tortured with pain all over me; and though I have been since wounded in several places, and have often submitted to severe surgical discipline, yet my sufferings were at that time far greater, at least in general distress. On one occasion I was shot in the lungs, and after lying on the deck at night for some hours bleeding from other wounds, I at length fainted. Now, as I felt sure that the wound in the lungs was mortal, it will appear obvious that the overwhelming sensation which accompanies fainting must have produced a perfect conviction that I was then in the act of dying. Yet nothing in the least resembling the operations of my mind when drowning then took place; and when I began to recover, I returned to a clear conception of my real state.”
The most remarkable fact connected with the history of ants is the propensity possessed by certain species to kidnap the workers of other species and compel them to labour for the benefit of the community, thus using them completely as slaves; and, as far as we yet know, the kidnappers are red, or pale-coloured ants, and the slaves, like the captured natives of Africa, are of a jet black. The time for taking slaves extends over a period of about ten weeks, and never commences until the male and female are about emerging from the pupa state; and thus the ruthless marauders never interfere with the continuation of the species. This instinct seems specially provided; for were the slave ants created for no other end than to fill the station of slavery to which they appear to be doomed, still even that office must fail, were the attacks to be made on their nest before the winged myriads have departed or are departing, charged with the duty of continuing their kind. When the red ants are about to sally forth on a marauding expedition, they send scouts to ascertain the exact position in which a colony of negroes may be found. These scouts having discovered the object of their search, return to the nest and report their success. Shortly afterwards the army of red ants marches forth, headed by a vanguard, which is perpetually changing; the individuals which constitute it, when they have advanced a little before the main body halt, falling into the rear, and being replaced by others. This vanguard consists of eight or ten ants only. When they have arrived near the negro colony they disperse, wandering through the herbage and hunting about, as aware of the propinquity of the object of their search,
yet ignorant of its exact position. At last they discover the settlements; and the foremost of the invaders, rushing impetuously to the attack, are met, grappled with, and frequently killed by the negroes on guard. The alarm is quickly communicated to the interior of the nest; the negroes sally forth by thousands; and the red ants rushing to the rescue, a desperate conflict ensues, which, however, always terminates in the defeat of the negroes, who retire to the innermost recesses of their habitation. Now follows the scene of pillage. The red ants, with their powerful mandibles, tear open the sides of the negro ant-hills, and rush into the heart of the citadel. In a few minutes each invader emerges, carrying in its mouth the pupa of a worker negro, which it has obtained in spite of the vigilance and valour of its natural guardians. The red ants return in perfect order to their nest, bearing with them their living burdens. On reaching their nest, the pupa appears to be treated precisely as their own; and the workers, when they emerge, perform the various duties of the community with the greatest energy and apparent good will. They repair the nest, excavate passages, collect food, feed the larvæ, take the pupæ into the sunshine, and perform every office which the welfare of the colony seems to require. They conduct themselves entirely as if fulfilling their original destination.—Newman's History of Insects.
A WILD BEAST FIGHT AT OUDE. We were conducted to a gallery which commanded a view of a narrow court or arena beneath, enclosed by walls and palisades. This was the area in which the spectacle was to take place. Unfortunately, the place allotted to spectators was so narrowed by the great number of European ladies who were present, that we could only find indifferent standing room, where, in addition to this inconvenience, the glare of the sun was very oppressively felt; but the drama which began to be acted in our sight, in the deep space below, was such that every discomfort was forgotten in beholding it. We there beheld six mighty buffaloes, not of the tame species, but the sturdy offspring of the Armibuffalo of the hilly country, at least four feet and a half high from the ground to the withers, with enormous widely spread horns, several feet long. There they stood on their short clumsy hoofs; and, snorting violently, blew out their angry breath from their protruded muzzles as if they were already aware of the nearly approaching danger. What terribly powerful brutes! What vast strength in their broad and brawny necks! It would have been a noble sight, had not their eyes all the while expressed such entire stupidity. A rattling of sticks and the cries of several kinds of bestial voices were heard, to which the buffaloes replied with a deep bellowing. On a sudden, from an