him no desires for further accumulation of riches we must acknowledge that the cup of human enjoyment, while it mantles to the brim, must still contain some bitter drop that there is in this world no happiness without alloy. Ill health now preyed, with all its cankering evils, upon his constitution, and he meditated, indeed seriously made up his mind, to retire from the scenes of his former activity to his native country, where he might look back upon the vista of his past life and die in peace. With this view he requested his friends Dr Cullen and Dr Baillie to look out for a pleasant estate for him, which they did, and fixed on a spot in Annandale, which they recommended him to purchase. The bargain was agreed on, at least so it was concluded, but when the title deeds were submitted to examination they were found to be defective and accordingly the whole project fell to the ground, for although harassed by ill health, Dr Hunter found that the expenses to support the museum were so enormous, that he preferred still remaining in his practice. He was at this time, dreadfully afflicted with gout, which at one time affected his limbs, at another his stomach, but seldom remained in one part many hours. Yet, notwithstanding this, his ardour and activity remained unabated;—but at length he could no longer baffle the destroying power which preyed upon his being. The attacks became more frequent, and on Saturday, March 15, 1783, after having for several days experienced a return of wandering gout, he complained of great headache and nausea, in which state he retired to bed, arid felt for many days more pain than usual, both in his stomach and limbs. On the Thursday following, he found himself so much recovered, that he determined to give the introductory lecture to the operations of surgery, and it
was to no purpose that his friends urged on him the impropriety of the attempt. Accordingly he delivered the lecture, but towards the conclusion, his strength became so much exhausted that he fainted, and was obliged to be carried by his
servants out of the lecture room. We now approach the death-bed scene of this eminent man, and surely there can be no spectacle of deeper or more solemn interest than that presented by the dissolution of a man, who adorned by intellectual energy and power, the path which it was in this life his destiny to tread. The night after the delivery of the above lecture, and the following day, his symptoms became aggravated, and on Saturday morning he informed his medical adviser, Mr Combe, that he had during the night had a paralytic stroke. As neither his speech nor his pulse were affected, and as he was able to raise himself in bed, Mr Combe was in hopes that his patient was mistaken; but the symptoms that supervened indicated that the nerves which arise in the lumbar region had become paralyzed; for the organs to which they are distributed, lost
the power of performing their functions. Accordingly he lingered with the symptoms, which in all similar cases exist, until Sunday the 30th March, when he expired. During his last moments he maintained very great fortitude and calmness, and it is reported that shortly before his death, he said, turning round to Mr Combe, "If I had strength enough to hold a pen I would write how easy and pleasant a thing it is to die." Such a sentiment as this, breathed by one under the immediate dominion of death, strikes us with peculiar wonder and awe, for it is seldom in such an hour that suffering humanity can command such
stoical complacency. During the latter part of his illness, his brother John—with whom he had previously been on unfriendly terms—requested permission to attend him, and felt severely the parting scene. His remains were interred on the 5th April, in the rector's vault of St James's church, Westminster.'
The lives of all eminent men may be viewed in a double relation,—they may be contemplated simply with a reference to their professional and public career—or they may be viewed in connexion with the character they have dis-
