The fewer the drugs and the less of medicine we can do with in the treatment of the dying, the better. Those above mentioned comprise all I have had occasion for, and if judiciously used, they are equal to the emergencies we are called upon to meet. I have no wish unduly to limit the means at our command in aid of the Euthanasia; but when the stage of existence contemplated in these pages has once been reached, we dismiss all thought of cure, or of the prolongation of life, and our efforts are limited to the relief of certain urgent conditions, such as pain, exhaustion, dyspnœa, spasm, and the like; for which the remedies mentioned above are to the full as efficient, if not really more so, than any others as yet known. But no medicine should be given without a distinct--I had almost written urgent--need for it; and the physician should form a clear idea of the special requirements of the case before him, and how, and by what means they may be best accomplished. In very many cases there is no need of medicines of any kind, and stimulants and light nourishment _cautiously_ administered, meet every requirement. But often, and in almost all cases, at a certain period of their course, the less even of these that is given the better. “Medici plus interdum quiete, quam movendo et agendo proficiunt,” writes Livy, and there are few dying beds, where, just before the last, this precept does not find its fitting application. “All that the dying person, then, requires is to be left alone, and allowed to die in peace.”[64] “Disturb him not--let him pass peaceably.” “The physician,” writes Dr. Ferriar,[65] “will not torment his patient with unavailing attempts to stimulate the dissolving system, from the idle vanity of prolonging the flutter of the pulse for a few more vibrations: if he cannot alleviate his situation, he will protect his patient against every suffering which has not been attached to it by nature.” As the patient himself is wholly unable to explain what is needful in his situation, the physician is bound to act for him in regulating the economy of the bed-chamber. The temperature and ventilation of the room--the amount of light to be admitted--the degree of quiet to be maintained in it--must be determined according to the circumstances of each particular case. When the mode of dying is by the lung, and in the way of asphyxia, the admission of fresh, cool air into the room seems to conduce to the relief of dyspnœa, and greatly to the comfort of the sufferer. The custom of excluding daylight as far as may be from the dying chamber, and keeping it gloomy and dark, is in every respect a mistake, and is to be opposed. If there is one thing about his surroundings which more often than any other is complained of by the dying, it is of failing sight--of a darkness gathering over him; and a desire is expressed for more light.