fever in the midst of one of his campaigns. The malady soon turned to typhus, and he was given over by his physicians. Lying at Lerino at the point of death, he heard the wild shout—“The Austrians!” The enemy had suddenly come down upon the little town, and the slaughter of his followers had begun. Springing from his bed with an infusion of new life in his veins, he buckled on his sword, and led his troops, inspired by his own wonderful personality, to conflict and victory. What was the influence of the mind in effecting this cure? Ah! that is no part of a medical curriculum. Mesmerists, spiritualists, theologians may deal with that as best they may—it is beneath the notice of the colleges. A fact like this is surprising only to those medical men who have never studied psychological medicine. The miracles of Lourdes and of hundreds of other Catholic shrines need not be denied altogether as unworthy of credence. There is abundant evidence that some cases of cure do really occur in connection with faith healing. Those who have made a study of mesmerism have adduced instances of healing by its means which it would be foolish to deny. So much charlatanism and fraud have always been mixed up with these things that it is not perhaps matter of much surprise that they are held in low esteem by men of science. Still, as there are undoubted phenomena in connection with them worthy of patient examination, it is surprising that so prominent a field of inquiry should be so completely neglected by our doctors, while it is considered necessary to know precisely how long a dog covered with varnish would live, and how many degrees of heat a rabbit can tolerate before succumbing to its agony. A young lady of hysterical temperament, who had been humoured to the top of her bent by her medical man, had, after a few months of gynæcological treatment, become so enfeebled in mind that she imagined she had lost the use of her lower extremities, and even succeeded in inducing her doctor to believe that she really was unable to walk. She was advised to consult a well-known hospital physician, who was chiefly celebrated as a true mind doctor. When he took his seat by the couch of the invalid he soon diagnosed her malady, and, finding she was of high intellectual culture, asked permission to read to her. The doctor was an admirable reader, and his rendering of a long and soul-stirring passage from one of the great poets _made_ the girl forget her ailment so completely that she sprang from her couch with energy as he paced the room declaiming the poem, and exclaimed, “Is not that magnificent?” At that moment the deluded woman found the complete use of her limbs, and a few more readings cured her without other medicine. They don’t teach this sort of things in hospitals,—not the curative part, at least. Examiners at the colleges would “plough” the man who ventured to propose readings from Shakespeare three times a week with dramatic action as a remedy for hysteria.