“My friend, Dr. Dunne, I say, agrees with me, that our treatment of drowned, or so-called drowned, men is all wrong, and that they can be resuscitated hours after death has apparently supervened, if the proper measures are taken. Drowning is simply a case of arrested function, that is all. Provided the organism is sound, why should it not be made to perform its functions again? Does a temporary stoppage ruin a watch if the works are all right? If so, what are doctors and watch-makers for, I should like to know? Is it not so, doctor?” “At all events we can try,” rejoined the doctor, impressively; “I am heartily glad of such a favorable, such an ultra-favorable, opportunity, I should say, of testing the efficacy of my treatment of drowned men upon so promising a subject.” “But what about the freezing, doctor?” I ventured to remark, for the coolness with which the whole subject was treated reminded me painfully of my own deficiencies of scientific lore and rendered me proportionately modest. “I have always understood that frozen limbs are as good as dead, and that amputation alone can save the life of the rest of the organism in such a case. It seems to me that when the whole body is frozen, so much the worse.” “So much the better,” returned the doctor, warmly; “it is much easier to work where the conditions are homogeneous.” By this time the steam escaping from the safety-valve of the portable engine showed that the pressure was considerable, and Burnham, who had previously shifted the slide-valve so that the steam would pass straight into the exhaust, now wheeled the engine opposite the block of ice, pointed the lateral pipe, which he had connected with the exhaust, and which he manipulated on its joint by means of a fork, toward the side of the block, turned the globe-valve and let the jet of blue vapor play upon the ice. The court-yard was soon thick with clouds of steam, but the huge ice-block kept dwindling away as the steam was directed upon one point or the other, by wheeling the engine round it, till in less than half an hour the court-yard was little better than a puddle and nothing remained of the ice-block but a crystal envelope, a few inches thick, around the inclosed body, so deftly and skillfully had Burnham directed the steam-jet upon all portions alike. “We shall now have to exercise more care,” he remarked; “the remaining ice must be removed in a more gentle manner. Help me to carry the body into the laboratory.” So saying, we all lent a hand and transferred the ice-bound body to the zinc tray upon the trestles in the laboratory, in which a roaring stove-fire had previously been lit, and the temperature of which, when the doors were shut, was like that of a Turkish bath.