Labour, to be sure, is the stuff that life is made of; but then, in a fine organization like Abernethy's, it should be directed with economy of power, and in application to the highest purposes. Such an organization should, if possible, have been relieved from the drudgery which lies within the sphere of more ordinary capacity. Ready as we are, then, to congratulate the young philosopher, about to display his powers on a field where he was so successful, still misgivings creep in which restrain, or at least moderate, our enthusiasm. Unusual ability, no doubt, allows men to anticipate the order which, as the rule, Nature seems to have assigned to the pursuits of intellect; but we must not suffer ourselves to be blinded to the rule, by the frequency of the exception. Youth is the time for _acquiring_ knowledge; and, although there is no reason why the fruits may not be imparted to others as fast as they are gathered, still, when the larger space of a man's time at twenty-three is devoted to _teaching_ merely, it may reasonably be doubted whether it be such a disposition of it as is best calculated to economise his power, or develop the maximum of its influence, in _extending_ the science to which it is devoted. John Hunter declined undertaking to teach anatomy at forty (1768), because it would have "_engaged his attention too much_ to admit of that general attention to his profession; to forming habits and established modes of thinking, which he thought necessary." In Abernethy's after life, we think we saw a good deal of the wear and tear that early and diversified labour had impressed on his physical organization. In advancing life, the natural desire for ease, if not carefully guarded, may not be without its perils; but precocious labour, stinted rest, and the malaria of large cities, crowded hospitals, and filthy dissecting rooms, too certainly bring on a train of evils, not less grave because more distant. We shall have to revert to these points when, in conclusion, we consider the variety and importance of his contributions to the science of his profession, and why they were not still more numerous. The latter, though perhaps the less grateful, is by no means the least useful portion of biographical analysis. Commencing his lectures in Bartholomew Close, they soon seem to have attracted notice. The anatomical courses, which were always on a similar plan, were very skilfully framed to interest and instruct the students. The arrangement of the matter was such, that the dry details of anatomy were lighted up by a description, not only of the purposes served by the various parts, but by as much as could be conveniently included of the diseases or accidents to which they were subject; and thus the juxtaposition of the structure, function, and diseases, naturally tended to impress the whole.