“The less fear a reasonable man entertains of death,” says Zimmerman, “the more placid is he in his last moments.” Happily such dread or terror of death as disturbs the dying is rare. For the most part an urgent fear of death, when it does exist, is observed not so much at the moment when death is actually impending, as it is at that earlier period when the individual realizes for the first time that he is about to die. The shock at _that_ moment may be great, but it is for the most part transient, and “the subsequent contemplation of approaching death seems to be far less terrible.”[19] A torpor seems indeed to steal softly over the whole being as death approaches, and the earnestness to live abates, as the possession of life, from whatever cause, is gradually withdrawn. Sir Henry Halford tells us that of the great number to whom he had administered in the last hours of their lives, he had felt surprised that so few have appeared reluctant to go to “the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns.”[20] No one, writes Mr. Savory, who has often stood at the bedside of the dying, “can have failed to be struck by the fact of the comparative or complete absence of dismay as death draws near. Often, no doubt, the mind is otherwise too fully occupied, ... but even in the absence of this and all distracting influences, and with a clear conviction that the approaching change is near at hand,--the mind is calm and collected, the thoughts serene, there is no quailing, no giving way.”[21] The nature of the disease under which a person succumbs, would seem to exert some influence in this respect. Sir Benjamin Brodie says, “I have myself never known but two instances, in which, in the act of dying there were manifest indications of the fear of death. The individuals to whom I allude were unexpectedly destroyed by hemorrhage, which from peculiar circumstances, it was impossible to suppress. The depressing effects which the gradual loss of blood produced on their corporeal system seemed to influence their minds, and they died earnestly imploring the relief which art was unable to afford.”[22] When the intimation that death is at hand has been postponed to the latest possible moment, it comes upon the sufferer so late, that there may not be time for him to get over the shock of the first impression, and regain his serenity. Alarm associates itself with the act of dissolution, which is imminent, or has already commenced, disturbs its even, easy, tenor, and explains some at least of the harrowing scenes that occasionally mark the death-bed. An earlier intimation[23] to the dying person of the great change he is about to undergo is in all respects desirable, and if the communication be made tenderly and with prudence, nothing but good is likely to result from it. An important question here presents itself. By whom should that communication be made?