Cobb, it was determined that attempts should be made to excite reaction by large and frequent doses of compound spirit of sulphuric ether in moderately strong brandy and water. The medicine was given before Dr. Babington left, and was retained. Dr. Cobb left him at ten o'clock, and during the remaining hours of his life he was carefully tended by Mrs. Key, who had arrived early in the evening, and by Dr. Gull. About half-past eleven, whilst he was being raised to give the ether, he asked in a scarcely audible whisper, what it was; and on being informed, said, "I should like to have some stout, for Addison wished me to have some." It was soon procured, and he drank freely of it. For nearly three hours after, he remained sensible, but never spoke, excepting that when anything was offered he would ask, in a faint whisper, "What is it ?" His surface never recovered warmth, the pulse could not be felt, the respirations became more frequent, and, towards three o'clock of Thursday morning, were rather stertorous and greatly embarrassed. A pattering on the floor, caused by the dripping of fluid through the bed, showed that a watery discharge from the bowels had been going on continually and largely. From this time he was completely insensible, and although the respiratory oppression diminished, the coma continued till his death, at seven o'clock in the morning, which was so easy and gradual that his last breath could not be told. Thus closed, in the zenith of his reputation, the life of one who had been most actively and usefully engaged in his profession, to his advancement in which he had incessantly devoted his every energy. His remains are deposited in his father's family vault at St. Dionis Backchurch, Fenchurch street.

Of Mr. Key's high professional reputation, not merely with the public but among his fellows, there can be no doubt. From his very first entrance into the profession, he made it his great end and object; his whole energies were devoted to it, and the entire course of his life was made subservient to the place he was determined to hold in it. How well he succeeded in achieving his object, is too well known to require further observation. His professional knowledge was almost entirely the result of his own experience, and his surgical lectures an exposition of the facts he had personally noticed. He was possessed of great self-reliance even in early life, as was well known to his fellow-pupils; he needed no leaning-post, and soon showed he was aware of it. He was habitually far-sighted, extremely cautious, well and long thought over the course he would pursue, and steadily followed it. This caution also influenced him in deciding on the performance of operations, and often led him to defer, or even to decline, such as seemed to him of doubtful success. It is not by this statement intended to imply that he usually hesitated either in giving an opinion or in acting upon it; but, as every surgeon knows, cases are not few in which the chance of successful issue of an operation is not great; and upon such, Mr. Key did not enter without much consideration, and thereby gave best proof of his judgment. As an operator he was very expert and smart; his operations for the stone especially were performed with great quickness. And, indeed, on his first assumption of hospital practice, and when closely watched by many of his own standing, to the style of his operations must be mainly attributed his early attainment of a good start in his profession, an advantage which he never after lost. Mr. Key had the happy power of warmly attaching patients to himself, by impressing on them his thorough knowledge of their ailments, and by throwing himself so entirely into their case as to seem to be completely engaged in it alone. Indeed, he has observed to a friend, many people endeavour to impress on the minds of their patients the numerous cases to which their attention is directed; my method, however, is, as far as possible, to withdraw my attention from all others, and to give it entirely to that one alone, as if I had none other." When a surgeon acts on such principle, which his patient soon perceives, the speedy attachment of the one to the other follows as matter of course. In addition to this, Mr. Key's liberality towards those who sought his professional assistance, but wanted the means of remunerating it, was great, deserving of all praise, and worthy of emulation. He met his reward in the ample professional income which, for many years he enjoyed, and was one among many instances of the adage, too often forgotten in the sordid pursuit of gain, that "the liberal deviseth liberal things, and by liberal things shall he stand."

It was, however, in his own immediate family relations that Mr. Key especially shone; his attachment to and reliance upon his wife, at whose sole disposal he left his property, and his doating affection for his children, were the greatest enjoyment of his later life. The noble conduct of his son, Commander Astley Cooper Key, at Genoa, within the present eventful year, and the deservedly high position he has thereby most justly acqnired, was to him a source of unmixed satisfaction.

Mr. Key has left the following children. Rev. Henry Key, Rector of Stretton, Herefordshire, and formerly of Christ Church, Oxford. Commander Astley Cooper Key, in command of the Bulldog, and at present with the French army at Rome, in a sort of diplomatic station. Anne, married to Henry Heale, Esq., of Highfield House, near Hemel Hempstead. And three other sons, and as many daughters.

THE LATE DR. JOHN REID.

OUR readers have all probably been made aware, through earlier channels of information, of the death of this distinguished physiologist and most estimable man, which took place on the 30th of July last, after a protracted and most painful illness. We had the satisfaction not long since (Vol. III, p. 318) of bearing our testimony to the sterling value of his scientific labours, and to his distinguishing excellencies as an experimental physiologist; and to this we shall only now add our conviction, that the results of these labours will continue to be regarded as among the most valuable contributions which experiment has furnished to the advance of physiological knowledge, when others obtained with a hundred times the expense of animal suffering, and announced with infinitely greater pretension, shall have passed into oblivion. It is not our intention to enter at present into any details as to our friend's prematurely interrupted career; nor shall we attempt a full delineation of his character; having been led to expect that such a biography will ere long be given to the public, as will comprise everything that could be desired. But we cannot forego the melancholy satisfaction of paying our own tribute of affectionate regard to one, in whom the virtues of the man were not less eminent than the abilities of the philosopher, and who presented in the closing scenes of his life an example of religious fortitude and submission, that cannot, we should hope, be without its beneficial effect upon every one before whom it is placed.

The writer's acquaintance with Dr. Reid commenced during the Session of 1835-6, in which he was one of the four Presidents of the Royal Medical Society of Edinburgh; at that time Dr. Reid occupied the position of Demonstrator in Dr. Knox's School of Anatomy. In the debates of the Society, especially when they involved questions of Anatomy, Physiology, and Pathology, Dr. Reid took a prominent part; and the writer would not be doing justice to his own feelings or to his friend's memory, if he did not bear tribute to the accuracy of information, clearness of perception, and logical precision of reasoning, displayed by Dr. Reid upon every subject he grappled with; which were almost invariably such as to bear down all his opponents (among whom the writer, trained as he had been under different teachers, was not unfrequently ranked), yet with such perfect bonhommie, and with such obvious desire rather for the attainment of truth than for any personal victory, that it was impossible for those most discomfited by his arguments to have any other feeling towards him than that of respect for his abilities and high regard for his mode of using them.

The death of Dr. Fletcher, which occurred at this period, left a vacancy in the extra-academical Lectureship on the Institutes of Medicine, which Dr. Reid was pre-eminently adapted to fill; and the conviction of his qualifications was so strong in the minds of his professional friends, that a requisition was got up, and numerously signed, urging him to take upon himself the duties of the vacant post, and promising him energetic support. On receiving this requisition, it is within the remembrance of the writer that Dr. Reid immediately consulted Dr. Alison, the Academical Professor of the same subject, who advised him by all means to come forwards,―in effect, as his own rival; it is scarcely necessary to point out how

strongly this little fact bears testimony to the single-heartedness of both the parties concerned. After lecturing for five sessions, in the extra-academical school of Edinburgh with great success, Dr. Reid received the appointment of Chandos Professor of Medicine in the University of St. Andrews; which, whilst it afforded him a moderate income, left him very much at liberty to devote himself to the anatomical and physiological investigations in which he felt most interested. This appointment he received, the writer believes, without any solicitation of his own, but through the strong recommendation of his friend Dr. Alison. Shortly afterwards he married; and having subsequently come into the possession, by the death of his father, of an acceptable addition to his income,-having a young family growing up around him, who received from him a full measure of parental attachment,-being established in a position which afforded him every opportunity of prosecuting the inquiries most congenial to his taste, and of contributing to the advancement of his favorite science, and enjoying the respect and affection of a large circle of friends, he seemed in the possession of every earthly blessing. It pleased the All-wise, however, to order differently; and however mysterious the dispensation, none can question it; least of all those who have seen its benefits in the development of that exalted religious sentiment, which was superadded as the crowning excellence upon all that was otherwise estimable in the character of their departed friend.

The frequency of the writer's communications with Dr. Reid having depended rather upon the occurrence of topics upon which they desired to exchange their thoughts, than upon any settled plan of correspondence, it sometimes happened that months elapsed without any direct intercourse. This was the case during the first part of last year; and it was consequently with the deepest pain that the writer received from him the following account of his condition,-a pain, however, not unmingled with satisfaction at the effect of his affliction upon his friend's mental state.

St. Andrews, July 15th, 1848.

"I have lately returned to St. Andrews, after an absence of more than two months in search of health; but instead of being better, there is every probability that my career on earth is drawing to a close. About eight months ago, an ulcer formed on my tongue, to which, for two or three months after its appearance, I paid but little attention. In the beginning of February last, I went to Edinburgh, and consulted some of my surgical friends there regarding it; but they appeared to consider it one of those ulcers that depend upon deranged stomach, as my stomach was very much out of order at the time of its appearance. I took various remedies at the suggestion of Dr. Duncan and Mr. Syme; and it appeared to remain for some time stationary, and even showed some symptoms of amendment. At the close of the winter session, in the beginning of May, I left this to wander about the lakes of Cumberland. Finding this doing me no good, I went up to London for a single day, to consult Sir B. Brodie and Mr. Syme, and when I also saw my old friend Fergusson. Since then I have passed a month at a retired wateringplace in the south of Scotland; and about a fortnight ago returned home under the impression that within a short time I shall be called upon to give an account of the deeds done in the body.

"I have been for the last three months disciplining my mind for taking an eternal farewell of earthly things, and endeavouring to make my peace with my Heavenly Father. I have to bless and praise my Maker that he has not cut me off suddenly in the midst of my carelessness and indifference about religion, but has given me timely warning that my sojourn on earth is probably drawing to a close, and has enabled me to take advantage of that warning. It is no doubt a hard and trying thought to leave for ever,-no, I hope, not for ever, for I praise God there is another state of existence where we may again meet, still it is very hard to make up my mind to leave wife, children, kind relations, and the pursuits in which I have taken so much delight; still it is my duty to bow with submission and resignation to the chastening rod, knowing that it is for my eternal welfare that I have thus been afflicted. My worldly circumstances were assuming a more comfortable aspect;

my constitution, until lately was robust; my age still in its prime (within some months of 40 years); I had formed plans for carrying on investigations into the structure and vital actions of the lower organized bodies, which can be so readily procured from this coast; little thinking that disease was so soon to overtake me. I had my dreams of being able to add something of importance to the deeply attractive and instructive matters embraced in such investigations; and I was looking forward to the time when I should be able to say that I have done something which will prevent me from being readily forgotten. You may say that these were indeed dreams, but I believe most people build castles in the air..........If my disease should present any symptoms of amendment, you shall hear from me again."

On the 24th of the same month the writer again heard from Dr. Reid, in reply to a letter of his own; and the following extract will show how well he was continuing to discipline his mind for what still seemed the inevitable though deferred result. After referring to other more personal topics, he continues:

"Your belief that we physiologists will in a future state of happiness have the veil raised from those mysteries of organized bodies into which we cannot at present penetrate, and that those things which we now see through a glass darkly' will be revealed to us in all their beauty, is one which is well calculated to yield me comfort and consolation at present. And I sincerely pray that God in his providence may bring us both in due time into his heavenly kingdom, and that we in company may gaze upon those wonders and mysteries in his works here below, into which our feeble intellectual powers cannot now penetrate, but which then will be fully revealed.

"When I last wrote to you I was in a very feeble state, both mentally and bodily. I had scarcely eaten anything for eight days, and my strength was rapidly giving way; so that I thought it possible I might not have it in my power to write to you again. Since that time my strength has rallied wonderfully; I am again able to take a good deal of exercise in the open air; my appetite is excellent; I am evidently gaining flesh, and I am now fit for some mental labour. This does not, however, inspire me with any hopes of recovery; for the disease remains as yet as bad as ever, and I have at times a good deal of pain in that side of the face.

'I often sincerely regret that my mind was not earlier impressed deeply with the paramount importance of a religious life. It strikes me now with the utmost surprise, that man should continue to fix his affections entirely upon the fleeting and perishing things of earth; and that he should turn a deaf ear to the kind entreaties, the warnings and the commands of his Heavenly Father, who made him, has supported him, bestowed upon him all that he possesses, and who will one day exact a rigorous account of the things done in the body, unless he turn and repent him of his sins. What a lamentable proof this is of the debasing nature of sin, and of the soul-destroying bondage under which it has placed man. -I find that there is a satisfaction, a deep-felt and soul-satisfying pleasure, in a religious life, which the pleasures of sin cannot afford; so that, apart altogether from the life that is to come, it would be much for man's advantage to lead a life of righteousness."

Not long after this date, when the suffering occasioned by his disease was so much increased as to render it necessary to have recourse to the frequent administration of opium and chloroform in order to procure an occasional and temporary respite, Dr. Reid again sought the advice and assistance of his old friend and colleague, Mr. Fergusson, who was at that time visiting Edinburgh; and was so urgent with Mr. Fergusson to give him the chance of benefit from the removal of the disease by operation, that Mr. Fergusson consented; and the excision of about a third of the tongue was performed. The immediate effect of this measure was most satisfactory. The wound healed rapidly, with no other unfavorable result than a deficiency in the power of articulation; the pain entirely ceased; and the flesh and strength gradually returned. Some of the glands of the neck, however, soon began to enlarge; but it was hoped that this might be merely the result of the irritation of the operation. Dr. Reid visited London in October, that he might be for a time under Mr. Fergusson's observation; and during the month which he spent in town, he seemed quite to recover his usual vigour both of body and mind.

He never lost sight, however, of the very doubtful nature of the cure; and his ordinary animation of spirits was evidently chastened by the religious sense of the uncertainty of his tenure of life. Not long after his return to St. Andrews, he experienced a severe affliction in the loss of his only son; of which he spoke as occasioning him more mental suffering than his own illness had given him. It was thought right, also, that the two enlarged glands in his neck should be excised; which operation was performed by his friend Dr. Duncan, of Edinburgh. Shortly before Christmas, he was able to complete the collection of his Anatomical, Physiological, and Pathological Researches,' upon the editing of which he had been some months engaged, and the publication of which he had earnestly desired to live to witness. Of the value of this volume there has been but one opinion expressed by those competent to appreciate it.-Having been made aware that indications of the return of the disease had presented themselves, and fearing that Dr. Reid might possibly not live to see the review of his book in the April number of this Journal, the writer sent him a copy of the article as soon as it was in print; at the same time expressing his fear lest the desire to avoid being biassed by private friendship had made the review less eulogistic than the work deserved. The following was Dr. Reid's reply, dated March 17, 1849.

Instead of your notice of my book being less eulogistic than I might fairly expect, I assure you, most sincerely, that I am convinced that you have spoken more favorably of my endeavours to advance the scientific branches of medicine than they deserve, and that your estimate of them has been biassed by personal friendship for the author. Be this as it may, it has afforded me unfeigned satisfaction to know that you entertain so high an opinion of the contents of my book. I know that I have laboured zealously and honestly to arrive at the truth on those points I set myself to examine and investigate; and it is a great satisfaction to find that my labours have not been in vain; for very few of the conclusions at which I arrived, in the different investigations I have entered upon, have been called in question on satisfactory grounds. I do not lay claim to any merit except that of patience and caution.

"I was glad to learn that you and your family have got over the winter so well, and above all, that you have not had the same cause for sorrow as C and I have had since I had the pleasure of seeing you in London, four months ago. Both he and I have had to deplore the loss of one of our innocent darlings, who twine themselves so firmly around our hearts that parting from them by their death is like tearing our heartstrings asunder. May it please your Heavenly Father to spare you this misery.

That my former disease has returned in the back part of my tongue, and isthmus of the fauces, I entertain no doubt. The pain and uneasiness, though sufficiently annoying at times, especially within the last fortnight, are not yet so severe as to prevent me from reading and studying as usual. My general health is remarkably good, my appetite excellent, and I have not yet had recourse to opiates. Part of each week-day I spend in professional study, part in preparing myself for that great and solemn occasion when I shall be called upon to give an account of the deeds done in the body, and part in recreation. My mind is perfectly calm, and I can play with my child, or enter into the enjoyment of innocent mirth, with as much relish as ever. My mind is made up for the worst; and when once this is done, all the fluctuations of hope and doubt are at an end, and the mind settles down into comparative calmness. I still, however, feel that I have not obtained that inward assurance of my Heavenly Father's favour, which some experience under circumstances similar to mine; but I pray earnestly for forgiveness for the sins of my past life, and leave with hope the issue in his hands."

After referring to some of the anatomical inquiries in which he had been engaged, Dr. Reid continues: "Perhaps you may think that I am here exhibiting an instance of the ruling passion strong in death; and I not unfrequently ask myself if it be right in one who will soon bid farewell to this earthly scene, to occupy his mind so much with these matters; but having been the subject of daily thought for so many years, and become almost necessaries of my existence, in fact my mental