All night long we watched, and morning found poor Wing still alive. For a week he lay in a comatose condition, cruelly, to my way of thinking, kept alive by stimulants, and then delirium set in; mild at first, but growing wilder and wilder. Had I not known his abstemious habits, I should have pronounced his case delirium tremens. All the terrifying illusions, delusions and hallucinations were present, snakes, devils, enemies were after him. Shouts for help brought no assistance and at last, completely exhausted, he would crouch on the floor, a picture of abject terror. With the greatest difficulty we managed to force down sufficient food to keep him alive, each paroxysm leaving him weaker until finally he lapsed into a low fever that lasted for weeks. Dr. Herschel never left us.
"'Doctor,' I said to him one day as we stood together by our patient's bedside, 'those tubercles certainly look smaller!'
"'And will look still smaller,' was his calm reply.
"I started and took a close look; the feet
