standing, heedless of our theories, and inscrutable to the prejudiced eye. All gaze on the one, all knees bend before him, but the other is despised and reviled; we loathe him, we shrink from him, as from pollution. We do not seek to know his laws, we do not wish even to look upon his face. But by this we lose immensely in knowledge, power, and happiness.

There is no greater loss to mankind at present, no greater waste of treasures unpurchaseable by gold, than the way in which our bodies are disposed of after death. Instead of every one of us having the utmost reverence paid us, having every part of us analysed and attended to in death as in life, with as persevering care and devotion; being neglected in no scrutiny which science can devise, as a means of approaching nearer to the mystery of our peculiar being, and of general humanity; instead of all this, we are shunned as a pestilence, our dearest friends fear to look on us, and shrink from mentioning even our names; and our invaluable remains, instead of still in death blessing their companions, who remain behind, in a manner, in which they could not, while living, are huddled out of sight, and consigned to the thankless worms. Death was intended by nature as the grand' key to the meaning of life, by which alone man could arrive at her secrets; but this priceless boon we wantonly cast away. Nay, so far are we from eagerly seeking to avail ourselves of this privilege, that we shrink from the very idea of using it. Some few years ago, there was so great a prejudice against the dissection of human bodies, that it was regarded as one of the greatest punishments for the criminal, that his should be so treated. And even yet the prejudice against the examination of the dead pervades all ranks of society. The dissecting room is viewed with a kind of horror and disgust; it is thought about the last degradation for a human being to be brought there. None are dissected except the friendless ones, who die in the hospitals and poorhouses, and whose latter hours are often embittered by the knowlege of the fate which awaits them. Their relations, if they know of their death, are too poor to bury them, and can but lament over the miserable alternative. But even to obtain an examination of the body after death, to discover the nature of the fatal disease, is no easy or pleasant task for the physician; often it is absolutely impossible. The mistaken friends will not hear of such a thing, and view with a kind of horror the physician who makes the proposal. Matters are not quite so bad among the richer classes; but among the less educated they are most painful to all parties. How well do I remember the sickening feelings of degradation I had when living in hospital, where our examinations of the dead bodies, far from being sympathised in by the heartfelt interest of the patients and their friends, were viewed with loathing and horror; ourselves regarded at times as butchers, and every attempt made to baffle our laudable endeavours. The patients were afraid of dying in hospital, and would sometimes cause themselves to be carried off, when nearly at the last gasp, to escape those whom they regarded as the sworn foes to the decency of death. No provision had been made to allow of the examination of the dead, and therefore it was done clandestinely by the physicians and students; and at every death there was a series of stratagems between the doctors on the one hand, and the friends of the

deceased on the other, to effect or prevent the examination. At these most indecent and degrading scenes the deep glow of sorrow and indignation entered my heart. What then, are we to be considered butchers for doing what love and duty enjoin upon us? Shall the sympathies of men shrink from us because we take the necessary mode to serve them? Shall the cause of mankind suffer, and all of us be alike degraded by these most sinful impediments, thrown in the way of our religion and our science? Who will submit to wrongful degradation?

But if we find these unhappy prejudices so dominant among the poorer classes, it is because the rich and better educated entertain them also. In these classes also, how often do the thoughts of friends shrink from the examination, which in every case should be made. Are the ways of death so easy, that in any case we can afford to pass them by without the profoundest consideration? But it is not merely to discover the nature of the fatal disease, that our bodies claim the attention of man after death.

No human being, man, woman, nor child, should die, without being dissected in their every nerve and fibre, as carefully, as minutely, as reverentially, as love and science can suggest. To squander such glorious subjects for our contemplation, the most perfect types of material organization, on the grave, is the greatest and most wanton waste that is now committed by man. At present the supply of human remains, is in this country too scanty, even for the instruction of the medical profession; when every educated human being, man and woman alike, shall study anatomy, as one of their chief duties and privileges, we shall learn better the uses of universal death. Human anatomy and physiology are the key-stones of the physical sciences, and without them all attempts to interest man or woman in the latter to make them comprehend them, or their own relation to the material universe, are utterly vain and impracticable. He that does not know anatomy, can have but a skin-deep knowledge of man. Therefore, as it is impossible for any of us to live a good or true life without self-knowledge, every one should study anatomy. He or she who does not, sins; and any one who throws impediments in the way of our obtaining this indispensable knowledge, also sins. Instead of shrinking from this necessary path of duty, we should account it a great privilege. Has any one so little love for man, so little reverence for truth, that he would not consent, or rather earnestly desire, that men should not neglect him after death; that he should be able even in death to serve them, after death's own incomparable manner; that in death as in life he should be judged of, and thus a wider and deeper revelation of his being, obtained! He who is not dissected after death, has an imperfect fate, and must so far remain unknown to us. Not only this, but he in this particular, does less good to his kind, and therefore less deserves their gratitude than he who is. Until the educated classes feel deeply these things, and bring themselves and the medical profession into harmony, by being every one in his heart and sympathies, no less than in his knowledge, a physicist, how can we expect that our poorer neighbours will view these matters aright? How many sore feelings, how much anguish to patients, friends, and physician; how much degradation to all will be spared, when we attain to truer ideas of life and death!

HEALTH OF TOWNS.

LARGE towns are the grand arena of disease of all descriptions. It is in them that the various causes of bodily suffering, both physical and moral, operate most powerfully, and produce their most fearful results. It is to them, therefore, that the physical reformer must chiefly direct his attention; it is their evils that most urgently claim the sympathy and pity of every feeling heart. What a difference is there between the physical state of town and country! In the vigourous rustic, where the rural population are not sunk in poverty, we see health glowing in every feature; we can note the action of pure air and bracing exercise in his ruddy cheek and stalwart frame, and delight in the joyous hilarity of his ready laugh, the sign of an exuberance of health. But how sad a contrast does the townsman present? Even in the appearance of the richer classes, when we enter a town,, we may observe a wide difference from their country neighbours of the same rank. The pale cheeks of the young ladies tell of late hours, lives spent within doors in reading, working, or exchanging visits, or of exercise limited to a saunter along a fashionable street. In the young men too, how constantly do we observe the signs of the evil effects of the town's influence. Here we pass the student, whose sallow complexion, quickened pace, and absorbed expression, show how much his body and external senses are neglected for his more cherished pursuits; there the pleasure-hunter, whose jaded looks let us guess the nature of his nocturnal dissipation. Scarcely even the healthiest among them, but presents some indication to the instructed eye, of the infinity of noxious and weakening influences of the city.

But let us quit the better streets, and wander through the quarters occupied by the poor. Let us penetrate to the core of the crowded city and view the corruption which harbors there. In this part, the most sadly interesting of all to the sympathising eye, where my feet have often lingered and my heart saddened and burned within me, the rich man is rarely to be seen; it is separated from the haunts of the more fortunate by a broader line of demarcation than that which severs land from land, or sea from sea.

What a scene of woes too deep for tears, does the poor's quarter preLittle children with pale sickly faces, blear-eyed, covered with

sent!

eruptions, with rickety limbs, and scrofula written in every feature, playing about among the gutters, if such beings can be said to play at all! Men and women, still pale, and all prematurely old and haggard, with the furrows of care ploughed deep in their brows, and a common expression of despondence and anxiety. Here we see the deep yellow hue of incurable liver disease, brought on probably by intemperate habits; there the puffy watery face that tells of the kidneys degenerated from similar causes; next the hollow ghastly visage of the consumptive, the labouring chest of the asthmatic, or the defaced features of the unhappy victim of syphilis. Wherever we go, care, squalidness, and disease, meet our eyes.

From such a scene, let us go with what appetites we may, to admire the beauties of the city, the works of art, magnificent buildings, gardens, and institutions, of which the wealthier citizen is so proud. Alas! how little compensation can these offer for the human ruins we have been contemplating! The splendid edifices and luxuriant gardens, where the happier children of the rich are fenced from all harm, and allowed to grow up in the sunshine, like the young flowers, contrast too painfully with the narrow filthy streets, dilapidated houses, and scrofulous features of the unfortunate little ones, whose playground is the kennel and crowded thoroughfare, fraught with so many dangers.

Can we be contented with bestowing our thoughts and our expenditure in beautifying the more fortunate parts of our cities, in erecting monuments to the dead, and grand buildings for the wonder and admiration of the stranger, while we thus neglect our poorer living brethren? Shall we take pride and glory in our towns, in whose secret recesses, which the stranger cares not to see, and which the citizen avoids as an eye-sore and focus of infection, corruption riots at its pleasure? One town vies with another in its beauties, natural and artificial, but does any fully feel the noble aspiration to excel, not in architectural beauties alone, but in the dutiful and loving provision made for the physical wellbeing of all its citizens? Should we not earnestly feel the desire to be able to pass ourselves and to conduct the stranger, not through magnificent squares or splendid streets alone, but through every part, every lane and alley, and to feel that there is none we are ashamed to meet, none which our brotherly sympathies have not entered, and invested with a peculiar and equal beauty?

How very far are we at present from so blessed a condition! There is not a large town in the country which is not a disgrace to our nation; not one which does not cry out to heaven against us. There is not one

which is even moderately healthy; not one which is not hideously diseased. If men had given to their own bodies, or to the bodies of their fellow beings, the thousandth part of the devoted attention and enthusiasm they have given to their souls, should we have come to this!

Our ancestors knew little about the laws of health. They built their streets narrow, their chambers small; they huddled their buildings as closely together as possible, leaving few if any open spaces, either as squares or gardens, which are the lungs of a large town-without which it must languish and suffocate.

Our better informed generation builds in a more healthy manner, although among us too, there is often little or no provision made for free air, but our improvements are almost entirely confined to the quarters of the rich. The poor succeed to the houses we have long abandoned, which are now, besides their radical defects, rendered ten times as unhealthy by their old age, the surrounding extension of the city, and their overcrowded population. Hence these quarters are the focus of disease; no one abides in them for any time without being destroyed physically and morally; the unhappy children, if not cut off, as the great majority of them are, during the first few years of life, grow up pale, weak, vicious, criminal; the healthiest stock becomes in a few generations extinct, and the vacuum thus created is filled by new healthy victims, who are soon brought through the tedious chronic processes of destruction to a similar end; syphilis and typhus have it here all to themselves, and spread from hence over the whole city.

What avail all the exhortations of the preacher, or of the moralist; what our penal codes and our hospitals, while these things remain so? If the town be itself diseased, nothing which lives in it will be healthy. Will all the prayers ever poured out under the skies widen these streets one inch? will all the penal codes, all the medicines that are, or shall be known to man, make up for the want of the air of heaven? It is good to bind up the bleeding heart, to console the sufferer; it is good to cure disease, when a cure is possible, but it is better that the suffering or disease should never have existed.

What then can we do to remedy this hideous blot on our civilisation, to restore to health our great towns, and thus be able to enjoy the freedom of our cities, and inspire the fresh air ourselves without the remorseful consciousness, that our neighbours are gasping, languishing, and dying, for the want of it? For it is pure air which our large cities especially require; it is the want of that, which most of all destroys them; and the admission of it to every part is the grand problem of the physical reformer. No other immediate cause of disease, among the innumerable host which operate in large cities, is at the present day nearly so important. Others may more attract our attention and are better recognised, because they are more palpable; but this invisible agent, with its insidious chemistry, saps the foundations of our being, while it eludes our observation. In its subtle menstruum how many poisons enter into our frames? Every infection, noxious exhalation, and destroying product of destruction, by its agency penetrates to our inmost bosoms, and taints us at the core.

No living thing, plant, animal, or human being, can live in a tainted atmosphere, or can have health or enjoyment, unless pure air and sunshine have free admission to it. Hence the stunted diseased state of the scattered trees in the midst of a crowded city. Do we think that a man can flourish, where a plant languishes? But even these plants have many advantages over the poor man. They live at least in the open air, so as to obtain the greatest benefit possible from the atmosphere, impure as it is; while he is confined to the house, nearly the whole of his exis