of going home, as you can always go there when you can go nowhere
else. Is seated straddling across one of the tables, on which he is
beating time to the band with a hooky stick. Will not allow the
state of his pulse to be ascertained, but says we may feel his fist
if we like.

Eleven.--Considerable difficulty experienced in getting the patient
to the railroad, but we at last succeeded. After telling every one
in the carriage "that he wasn't afraid of any of them," he fell
into a deep stertorous sleep. On arriving at home, he got into bed
with his boots on, and passed a restless night, turning out twice
to drink water between one and four.

JUNE.--10, A.M.--Has just returned from his office, his employer
thinking him very unfit for work, and desiring him to lay up for a
day or two. Complains of being "jolly seedy," and thinks he shall
go to Greenwich again to get all right.

A thrilling paper upon the "Philosophy of death," was then read by
Professor Wynne Slow. After tracing the origin of that fatal attack, which
it appears the earliest nations were subject to, the learned author showed
profound research in bringing forward the various terms applied to the act
of dying by popular authors. Amongst the principal, he enumerated "turning
your toes up," "kicking the bucket," "putting up your spoon," "slipping
your wind," "booking your place," "breaking your bellows," "shutting up
your shop," and other phrases full of expression.

The last moments of remarkable characters were especially dwelt upon, in
connexion, more especially, with the drama, which gives us the best
examples, from its holding a mirror up to nature. It appeared that at
Astley's late amphitheatre, the dying men generally shuffled about a great
deal in the sawdust, fighting on their knees, and showing great
determination to the last, until life gave way; that at the Adelphi the
expiring character more frequently saw imaginary demons waiting for him,
and fell down, uttering "Off, fiends! I come to join you in your world of
flames!" and that clowns and pantaloons always gave up the ghost with
heart-rending screams and contortions of visage, as their deaths were
generally violent, from being sawn in half, having holes drilled in them
with enormous gimlets, or being shot out of cannon; but that, at the same
time, these deaths were not permanent.

* * * * *

FOREI