I have now but to record the events of his last illness, so accidental in its origin, so rapid in its progress, so fatal in its end.
It has already been said that Dr. Darwall's health had been impaired by his anxieties. To this cause must be added his incessant exertions. He seemed almost incapable of repose. To do nothing, or to be delayed, or to be long in one place, or to be compelled to make sacrifices of time to society, seemed to become more and more intolerable to him. His mind was for ever at work. Relaxation, lounging unemployed, idle conversation or diversions, convivial pleasures, everything of that kind seemed unnecessary or tormenting to him. His desire to be acquainted with every able publication of the day, either professional or literary, or relating to any science, filled up most of the, intervals of his busily employed time. It was very rare to find that others had read a book of which he knew nothing: he even read many books of mere amusement, and he sometimes regretted the tendency of the present age to efface too rapidly the imaginative pleasures of the young by a premature introduction to physical science, which he thought less useful to them than such nursery tales as illustrated "right and generous feelings." Latterly, however, if he read works of amusement, it was with eager haste, and in such a sort as if he scorned himself that could be pleased
