explained in them, with an account of what I believed were Mr. Hunter’s opinions respecting life; and to me, it would have seemed wise in the opposite party to have suffered these lectures gradually to have sunk
ject. When I first attended St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, one of the old surgeons was a most benevolent man, whom all the patients loved. There was a little boy of five years old, whom this surgeon was to cut for the stone. The boy complained loudly, and struggled much, during the introduction of an instrument, which was but a preparatory step to the operation. The old man patted the child on the cheek and said, "You know, my good little boy, that I would not hurt you if I could help it."—"I know it, Sir," said the child, "and I will cry no more." He underwent a severe and tedious operation. His teeth were clinched, his lips were working, yet no sound was heard.—A few weeks ago, an emaciated and very sickly child of seven years old was sent into the hospital to have a diseased knee removed. The case was indeed hopeless. When the little patient had become familiar with his new abode and attendants, and certain circumstances known with respect to his health which it was proper should be ascertained, I said to the child, for I knew not whether he had been apprized of his doom, "I suppose, my little fellow, that you would not mind having this knee removed, which has pained you so much, and made you so very ill."—"Oh, no," replied he, "for mammy has told me that I ought." At the time of the operation he manifested neither hesitation nor opposition, nor did the voice of complaint issue from his lips.
