last
moments of a person's life, he is or may be "struck with death;" by
which, I suppose the more intelligent simply mean that such a change
comes over him as renders his speedy departure to the spirit-world
inevitable.

Now that we are really justified in saying of many persons who are in
their last moments, that they are beyond the reach of hope, is doubtless
true. When decomposition, for instance, has actually commenced, and the
vital organs have already begun to falter, it would be idle to conceal
the fact, were we able to do so, that life is about to be extinguished
beyond the possibility of doubt.

In general, however, it is never quite impossible for the sick to
recover even after recovery _seems_ to be impossible. So many instances
of this kind have been known, that we ought at least, to be exceedingly
cautious about pronouncing with certainty, and to encourage rather than
repel the application of the old saying, "as long as there is life,
there is hope."[C]

I had a lesson on this subject while a medical student, which was
exceedingly instructive, and which, if I were to live a thousand years,
I could never forget. It was worth more to me in practical life
afterward, than all my books and recitations would have been without it.
The facts were these:--

My teacher of medicine used occasionally to take his students with him
when he rode abroad on his professional visits. One day, it fell to my
lot to bear him company. His patient was an aged farmer, a teamster
rather, who had been for some time ill of a fever, and had not been
expected to recover. Yet his case was not so desperate but that the
physician was expected to continue his daily visits.

On our arrival at the house of the sick man, we were met by a member of
the family, who said, "Come in, doctor, but you are too late to do us
any good. Mr. H. is struck with death; all the world could not save him
now."

We entered the room. There lay the patient almost gone, surely. So at
least, at the first view, it appeared. It was a hot summer day, and
hardly a breath of air was stirring. The friends were gathered around
the bed, and there was less freedom of circulation in the air of the
sick-room than elsewhere. It was almost enough to kill a healthy man to
be shut up in such a stagnant atmosphere; what, then, must have been the
effect on one so sick and feeble?

The doctor beckoned them away from the bed, and requested them to open
another window. They