Thus this man,—who was an exquisite, a politician, a poet, an orator, a married man, and an epileptic at eighteen, and a universal conqueror and master in literature, oratory, and statesmanship at forty,—instead of being a burden upon the state, or a menace to the prosperity of his family, enriched the state by invading and making tributary foreign powers without apparently making enemies of the vanquished, a feat in itself, extended its dominion, increased its influence, and at last, as Cassius said, "had grown so great that he bestrode the narrow world like a colossus," and scorned to have a rival in the management of the whole earth.
Says Mark Antony, who had evidently seen him in convulsions: "When the fit was on I marked how he did shake; 'tis true this god did shake." Again, "Ye gods, it doth amaze me a man of such a feeble temper should so get the start of the majestic world and bear the palm alone."
This, to be sure, is but Shakespeare; but it is true to the facts as recorded by historians.
We would hardly recommend horseback riding to an epileptic, "but by dint of perseverance," says the historian Oppius, "Cæsar became an expert horseman, often dictating to two or three secretaries at once while in the saddle, and rode without using his hands," which we are assured he could do with his horse at full speed. We would have thought this statement fabulous, the friendly exaggeration of an ardent admirer, but we have had a somewhat similar experience in our own practice. Mr. A. H., of Germantown, Pa., had con-
