In the evening he conversed a good deal with Parry, who remained some hours by his bedside.  “He sat up in his bed (says this officer), and was then calm and collected.  He talked with me on a variety of subjects connected with himself and his family; he spoke of his intentions as to Greece, his plans for the campaign, and what he should ultimately do for that country.  He spoke to me about my own adventures.  He spoke of death also with great composure; and though he did not believe his end was so very near, there was something about him so serious and so firm, so resigned and composed, so different from any thing I had ever before seen in him, that my mind misgave me, and at times foreboded his speedy dissolution.”

On revisiting his patient early next morning, Mr. Millingen learned from him, that having passed, as he thought, on the whole, a better night, he had not considered it necessary to ask Dr. Bruno to bleed him.  What followed, I shall, in justice to Mr. Millingen, give in his own words.[1] “I thought it my duty now to put aside all consideration of his feelings, and to declare solemnly to him, how deeply I lamented to see him trifle thus with his life, and show so little resolution.  His pertinacious refusal had already, I said, caused most precious time to be lost;—­but few hours of hope now remained, and, unless he submitted immediately to be bled, we could not answer for the consequences.  It was true, he cared not for life; but who could assure him that, unless he changed his resolution, the uncontrolled disease might not operate such disorganisation in his system as utterly and for ever to deprive him of reason?—­I had now hit at last on the sensible chord; and, partly annoyed by our importunities, partly persuaded, he cast at us both the fiercest glance of vexation, and throwing out his arm, said, in the angriest tone, ’There,—­you are, I see, a d—­d set of butchers,—­take away as much blood as you like, but have done with it.’

[Footnote 1:  MS.—­This gentleman is, I understand, about to publish the Narrative from which the above extract is taken.]

“We seized the moment (adds Mr. Millingen), and drew about twenty ounces.  On coagulating, the blood presented a strong buffy coat; yet the relief obtained did not correspond to the hopes we had formed, and during the night the fever became stronger than it had been hitherto.  The restlessness and agitation increased, and the patient spoke several times in an incoherent manner.”

On the following morning, the 17th, the bleeding was repeated; for, although the rheumatic symptoms had been completely removed, the appearances of inflammation on the brain were now hourly increasing.  Count Gamba, who had not for the last two days seen him, being confined to his own apartment by a sprained ankle, now contrived to reach his room.  “His countenance,” says this gentleman, “at once awakened in me the most dreadful suspicions.  He was very calm; he talked to me in the kindest manner