mulgators of error. Harvey, no doubt, felt this; and, with his own peculiar patience, he waited for the triumph, and it came. His great discovery was fully accepted by his own generation; he was almost idolised by his profession; he was patronised by his sovereign; and he closed a long life cherished and revered by all.
If we take a brief review of the progress of English intellect during the last few centuries, and note the leading characteristic of each succeeding period, we may trace three especial epochs: first, that of English literature, which was in its zenith when our profession assumed a position in the scientific world.
Real medical science struggled feebly onward during that literary epoch; but when Shakspeare's sun set, and Harvey's rose, the true scientific age of England began to dawn. Harvey and Newton unveiled a galaxy of light, in an epoch of single but most significant discoveries.
After another century or more, during which science remained all but stationary, the chief workers rather reviewing the
