SCENES IN SOUTHERN PRACTICE.

CONSUMPTION.

"Fire, that's closest kept, burns most of all."—SHAK.

THE month of May had set in-tender grass and sweetscented flowers sprang from earth's warming bosom. Life seemed young everywhere. How could a grave be dug in gay-mantled May? Ask Church-yard, whose tear-nourished ground hath robed itself with spring-time flowersask of it, if the old and young are not welcomed to it, as though in some sequestered bower! Ask if, midst Nature's plenitude, man's desolation be not most ripe? Ask old Church-bell, as "toll," "toll," its iron tongue doth vibrate through ear to heart, searing the loved marks of former days, ask, if it doth not teach bud and blossom below, that they do early fade! Doth not the spring wind, with its fragrant breath, tell of its escape from winter's tomb, and bear upon it evidence of another life begun! Then weep not, ye who bury loved ones midst early shrub and flower, when every breath-wind bears a new life-welcome.

Night had closed in; the day's labor was over. Slipper and arm-chair were fast solacing the body with gentle, halfdozing forgetfulness, stealing away all thought of self and others. With a sudden start I leaped up at the sound of my bell. A stranger needed my instant attention at L

some miles distant. The messenger was the hotel-keeper

himself. He was a small man-small in every way. Small head, small body, small legs-his very clothes were too small for him. His mode of conversing was alike smailhints more than speech came from him.

"Ah, doctor," he cried, as he hopped into my office, "wanted instanter-extraordinary man-awful sick-will die-have none other-must come-carriage at the doorsoon be there." I knew the man, and without a word, encasing my feet and back in their appropriate vestments, I followed him to his wagon. The stars were shining brightly, but the air seemed sharp after my luxurious arm-chair. The little man was in the body of his horse. He was a pantomime of the animal and vehicle together-such grimaces-such sharp twitchings-such easy-let-down actions, were never seen before. The road was hilly, and here and there lay through marshy woodland, or dark high forest patches; the little man drove as well in the dark as the light-sometimes half out the wagon, at others, standing nimbly up, but never speaking nor stopping pace.

I wished I was back in my old arm-chair; my mind was almost made up to topple him over, as he leaned half-body out. Never so much before did I feel that my profession was a mere business-it was nothing else, to be so hauled over rut and stone, down and up hill by such a fragment of humanity! We were now clear of all signs of habitation. The wind had become gusty, and the stars shone less brightly, as the clouds lay scattered here and there over the heavens. I felt nervous and chilly-I knew not why; and I even wished the curious homunculus beside me would talk or even whistle. At length he began:

"Forgot to tell about him-dreadful stern man-like a pirate-gentleman pirate-speaks like a savage-perfect skeleton, and won't die! No, sir, says he won't."

"What is his disease?" I inquired.

"Has all," answered the little blackbird; "is madgrits his teeth-strikes his chest-very strong-pitched me like a ball-just asked if his lungs were gone! Be careful, sir, desperate fierce man-ordered our doctor out the room -steady there." The horse claimed his attention, and again he seemed in his very bowels.

At length the light of the top of the hotel appeared, and in a few minutes we arrived at the steps. Death surely could not be at work here! there was the sound of music and laughter-a maddening waltz was playing, and the young were very happy and merry.

With his quick step the little keeper led on to the sick man's room. I knocked gently at the door. A deep voice bade me enter. Upon a sofa, wrapped in a rich brocade dressing-gown, lay the figure of a man of almost colossal stature. By his side a table stood, holding a carcel-lamp, with its shade casting its powerful light upon a book, which apparently he had been reading. Every feature of his wasted face was distinctly shown. It was the utter wreck of great manly beauty. The dark curling hair fell lightly over his white massive forehead, as though it belonged to vigorous manhood. The eyes, now deep sunken in their hollow orbits, were of a hazel-black, and still full of pride and power. The teeth were exquisitely beautiful and white-how often seen in those doomed to die from lung disease!—whilst the firm, but now thin lips, were slightly parted, and were red, as though mocking with health; the wide-opened nostrils moved with every breath. At a glance I read the fatal disorder that was fast preying on this noblelooking creature. With an impatient wave of the hand he motioned the host to the door, who seemed eager to quit his presence; and then, with a faint smile, he pointed me to a chair.

"Doctor, I have sent for you thus untimely, that you may give me something to ease me-my strength has failed

me strangely. "That is," he continued hastily, "I do not feel so well as I ought."

The few words he uttered seemed an effort; he was evidently averse to be thought ill. I asked him how long he had been sick. For an instant a faint flush passed over his wan cheek, and with an abruptness rendered startling by his singularly deep voice, he said, "I have merely sent for you, sir, to give me some strengthening remedy-I do not care to enter into any detail."

Gently but firmly I informed him, that unless I knew something relative to the history of his disorder, and was allowed to make such physical examination as I deemed necessary, I could not prescribe. He appeared excited by my answer, and was about to reply, when he put his hand suddenly over his heart, compressing his lips tightly upon his closed teeth. His whole frame shook with the violence of the heart's palpitation; and his face, that had become. suddenly suffused, grew ashy pale. A bottle of ammonia standing on the table, I poured a few drops into some water, and handed it to him. He gave me a look, and then mechanically took the glass and drank the contents. Recovering in a few minutes, he said in a low tone:

"Doctor, forgive me-I am at times very hasty, and I fear very self-willed," he added, faintly smiling. have demanded nothing more than what is right. You may "You examine my chest," he continued with reluctance; are the first man that has ever done so-perhaps you will be the last. You will find all right there; only my nervous system has given way."

With what self-taught delusion did he still endeavor to hide the truth from himself and me! Nothing of sound lung structure remained; and, as from time to time he spoke, the voice entered into my very ear, as I laid my head on his broad chest. What a frame-yet not an ounce of fat was left-all had gone; the mere skin-covered

skeleton remained, of what must have been a specimen of the finest manly beauty. His poor heart labored in his tired breast, like some frightened bird trying for escape! His fate was inevitable-he merely lived by the will.

As I resumed my seat, he placed his dark eyes on my face. The sweat stood in large beads upon his forehead and upper lip-a strong commotion was going on within. At length, in a voice whose tones resembled those of a fine bass, he said, with an ill attempt to appear indifferent,

"Well, sir, what have you found; or rather what is left to be found? Come-speak plainly; I know not why, but I now wish to have an opinion. Feel my pulse-you see it is very calm.”

It was beating violently irregular, and was very rapid! I gently informed him that disease had long, or else very rapidly invaded his chest, destroying his lungs in the most remarkable manner. He hastily interrupted me.

"Stop," he exclaimed, "never mind about the amount of damage there must be enough left to keep life upon-try your skill-it and my will must win-by heavens! I will not die! Why man, soldiers have been shot in the chest, and their lungs drowned in blood-yet accounts tell that some have lived. Pshaw! go to your work, and I promise you my part shall not be lacking. You see," said he, vehemently, whilst the sweat rolled from his forehead and plashed on his arm, as he suddenly raised himself, and stood to his full height upon the floor-"you see what strength I have. Does this look like dying for want of lung-air? Why, man"—he could say no more; a violent fit of coughing caused him to sink panting on the sofa. He knew, but dreaded to hear that he was a victim to that dread disease, consumption. How many have thus dreaded and fallen! Alas! how many have revelled in that singular condition of hope, so falsely attendant in his funeral train!

Taking from my case a powerful stimulant, I gave it to