This idol has neither sense nor force; if it had, it were not an idol; it would walk off, or tell the worshippers no longer to shake hands constantly with themselves in its presence. But, when the opportunity offered for obtaining remunerative practice by the exercise of his scientific skill, Snow showed himself, both in act and industry, competent for success. He soon overcame all difficulties, and managed by his frugality to lay in store for a rainy day for himself, and to help such friends as needed. Many rumours as to the extent of his gains abound which it is right to correct. His income of late years was near £1,000 a year, but it never exceeded that sum. For this, he exhibited chloroform or one or other anæsthetic about four hundred and fifty times annually, taking an average of the ten years preceding his death. In a large number of these cases, however, his services were gratuitously supplied. In his private relations, Dr. Snow was a man of the strictest integrity and purest honour. The experiences of life, instead of entwining about him the vices of the world, had weaned him from the world. Without any pretence, maintaining no connection with sect or party, living by the rules of the eternal laws which, according to the best of his abilities, he could read from the universe, he carried out a practical religion, independently of any hypothesis or abstruse profession, which few professors could approach. A child of nature, he knew no way of recognizing the Divine influences so purely as in silent and inexpressible admiration of those grand external phenomena which pharisees see not, but which each moment convey to men of his character, the direct impression of a Power all present and revealing itself for ever. We approach the end. In the midst of his success, when medicine most needed him and his hand was most powerful, he stood one day in his mental strength, and the next day fell. Death found him at his work, and the stern enemy came on him suddenly, though not without forewarnings.[2]