trouble in tracing what had become of the boy. Ultimately I found his father, who informed me that the day he was discharged he came home and sat down to his dinner; after the meal was over, the father resumed his work, that of shoe mending, when his son, without saying a word, struck him a severe blow on the head with a hammer. The aid of the neighbours and of the police was invoked, and after a desperate struggle he was overpowered, handcuffed, taken before a magistrate, who sent him to Marylebone Workhouse, from which establishment he had been sent to Hanwell, where he had been some days. I sent a copy of my reply to the Guardians to the Poor Law Board. My judgment was never again called in question in cases of lunacy. I found this part of my duty an agreeable episode in my daily routine of all but thankless work. I also made the acquaintance of Sir Thomas Henry, Mr. Flowers, and Mr. Vaughan, and from all these magistrates received the greatest courtesy. Before I had long held office my attention was drawn to the marvellous zeal displayed by the Catholic priests, who, although unpaid, were untiring in their attendance on the sick poor of their persuasion, a large number of whom were always in the House. A somewhat ludicrous incident occurred about this time. There was a very old woman in the infirm ward, across the yard. She was stated to be ninety-five; she had been blind from childhood, and the balls of both eyes were gone, leaving nearly empty sockets. Although life under such circumstances was not very attractive, I never met with any one who so strongly objected to dying. She was constantly sending for me to prescribe for her imaginary ailments. One very cold night, when the snow was on the ground, and it was blowing strongly from the north-east, at about 11.30 my night-bell was rung violently. I had not gone to bed, and therefore answered the door, when I found a young Irishwoman, cowering in the recess of the doorway. On asking what she wanted, she replied, "Oh, if you please, sir, the Father has sent me over to ask whether Bridget Gaines is dying, as a messenger has just come from the House saying Bridget is going, and requesting the Father to go there at once. Now the Father has a bad cold, and his feet are in hot water, and he has a poultice on his chest, and he is afraid to go out as the night is so cold." I laughingly told her to go back and tell the Father that I thought Bridget was not near her end yet. On the following morning the priest called on me. He was very anxious about Bridget, and earnestly asked whether I had heard from the House. I told him there was no need for anxiety, when, in a deprecatory tone of voice, he said, "I should have gone after all, but Bridget has been very tiresome. Do you know," he said, "Bridget has had extreme unction administered nineteen times." I saw Bridget that morning, she was much in her usual condition; she lived a long time