On the 2nd of August, 1790, a carabinier named Petit jumped into the Rhine from one of the windows of the Military Hospital at Strassburg. Half an hour later,—as nearly as could be learned from an inquiry that was made at the time of the occurrence,—his body was taken from the water and carried into the hospital. To all appearances the man was dead; no evidences of life were discovered. Nevertheless, efforts were made to revive him. The body was placed in a thoroughly warmed bed, with the head lying high up on a pillow, the arms resting on the trunk, and the legs extended side by side. The only other measures adopted were the following: At short but regular intervals of time heated cloths were placed over the region of the stomach and over the legs; and heated stones wrapped in cloths were placed in different parts of the bed. At the end of seven or eight minutes a slight twitching of the man’s upper eyelids was observed, and a short time afterward his lower jaw, which up to that moment had been in firm contact with the upper jaw, became separated from it and permitted a little frothy mucus to escape between the lips. After this discovery had been made, a little wine was cautiously introduced into the man’s mouth. Apparently it was swallowed, and then other small doses of wine were administered, all of them apparently being swallowed. Under this stimulation the pulse beats at the wrist became perceptible, and at the end of one hour the man was able to answer questions. In his comments upon this interesting case of restoration of life after apparent death from drowning, Hufeland makes the following remarks:— It is evident, therefore, that artificial heat acts with the same vigor immediately after the appearance of what seems to be death as it does at the very first dawn of life; it gradually fans into a living flame the few vital sparks which may still be present in the body. In the preceding account of the means adopted for resuscitating the soldier who was believed to be dead from the effects of drowning, no mention is made of friction of the surface of the body as a procedure of some value. Hufeland, very properly, lays great stress upon the need of applying heat. Friction, however, if employed intelligently, may prove a most efficient adjunct; and, when I use the expression “intelligently,” I mean that friction may be utilized as a powerful agent for propelling toward the heart the artificially heated blood contained in the cutaneous blood-vessels, thus contributing in no small degree toward the reëstablishment of the circulation. The kind of friction required—it seems scarcely necessary to say—should always be directed from the extremities toward the heart.