The cry that he was able to work, and was counterfeiting his appearance, had been rung so long, that it triumphed over all the science and practice of the doctor, and led _him_ to neglect him under the impression that he was a hypocrite. At last, his suffering, and dying, and persecuted patient said,--"Doctor, I wish you would do something for me."--"I _will_ do something for you," was the significant and fatal reply; and he immediately ordered him large and frequent doses of calomel, which every novice in the medical art knew was a very fatal medicine to that complaint in its present confirmed stage. It was not long in doing its work, and the victim was laid in the earth. When the doctor was afterwards asked why he gave the calomel, he replied; "I knew its nature and effects, and I thought I would make short work of it."--I do not suppose that the physician intended to _kill_ the man, but I suppose he meant to try an _experiment_. His opinion was, that the effect would soon be apparent, and be _fatal_ if the disease were firmly seated; and I blame him for listening to those who had an interest in deceiving him, and not acting from his own _examination_, as he would in other cases. The keeper who drove this dying man from the place provided for such sufferers, and made him labor when he ought to have been at rest, I knew _well_, and I have always considered him to be one of the most unfeeling, as well as ignorant, and unprincipled of the human race. This is not the only case in which I shall present him to the contempt of the reader, for many are the dark records against him, and through many years was he an infernal spirit in the prison, a Satan to the sick, and a curse to the well. A friend of mine watched with this man the night he died. Soon after he went into his room, he made an effort to rise. There was a remarkable expression in his countenance, and he was asked if the bell should be rung to call the keeper? He shook his head. His eyes opened very wide, and looked wishful and anxious. They then rolled back in his head and he lay a few minutes and then recovered. He said--"I thought I was going; if I have another such turn, send for the keeper." This was his last utterance. He lay for some time very still, and when the nurse went to him again he was dead. In the bloom and strength of manhood, this unhappy man was hurried out of time, by those who should have been his friends and treated him kindly. No inscription is on his tomb. He sleeps in silent peace near the room in which he died; and his spirit is where the prisoners hear not the voice of oppressors. LEVITT.