“A young gentleman of family, about twenty-five years of age, took cold whilst under the influence of mercury. The disease increased daily until it was accompanied at last, by so much fever and delirium, as made it necessary to use, not only the most powerful medicines, but also personal restraint. At length, after three days of incessant exertion, during which he never slept for an instant, he ceased to rave, and was calm and collected. His perception of external objects became correct, and they no longer distressed him, and he asked pressingly if it were possible that he could live? On being answered tenderly, but not in a way calculated to deceive, that it was probable he might not, he dictated some affectionate communications to his friends abroad, recollected some claims upon his purse, ‘set his house in order,’ and died the following night. The reason why so unfavourable an opinion was entertained of his state, was, that the apparent amendment was not preceded by sleep, and was not accompanied by a slower pulse; two indispensable conditions--on which only a notion of real improvement could be justified. But here was merely a cessation of excitement occasioned by a diminution of power, and by a mitigated influence of the action of the heart upon the brain.” This case occurred in the practice of Sir Henry Halford.[31] Another instance, the counterpart to that just described, which happened to the same eminent physician, may not be out of place. A young gentlemen, who had also been using mercury very largely, caught cold, and became seriously ill with fever. “His head appeared to be affected on the fifth day, and on the seventh, when I was first called into consultation with another physician, who had attended him with great care and judgment from the commencement of his illness, we found him in the highest possible state of excitement. He was stark naked, standing upright in bed, his eyes flashing fire, exquisitely alive to every movement about him, and so irascible as not to be approached without increasing his irritation to a degree of fury.... On the eleventh day of his disease, I was informed by my colleague, when we met, and by the attendants, that he was become quite calm, and seemed much better. It was remarked, indeed, that he had said repeatedly, that he _should die_; that under this conviction he had talked with great composure of his affairs; that he had mentioned several debts which he had contracted, and made provision for their payment,--that he had dictated messages to his mother, expressive of his affection, and had talked much of a sister who had died the year before, and whom, he said, he knew he was about to follow immediately. To my questions, whether he had slept previously to this state of quietude, and whether his pulse had come down, it was answered, No; he had not slept, and his pulse was quicker than ever. Then it was