“I have had,” said the doctor, “a good deal of experience, in the long practice of my profession in the city, that is more remarkable than anything recorded in the ‘Diary of a London Physician.’  It would be impossible for me to detail to you the hundredth part of the interesting and exciting things which I saw and heard.  That which affected me most, of late years, was the case of a boy, not, I think, over twelve years of age.  I first saw him in the hospital, whither, being poor and without parents, he had been brought to die.

“He was the most beautiful boy I ever beheld.  He had that peculiar cast of countenance and complexion which we notice in those who are afflicted with frequent hemorrhage of the lungs.  He was very beautiful!  His brow was broad, fair, and intellectual; his eyes had the deep interior blue of the sky itself; his complexion was like the lily, tinted, just below the cheek-bone, with a hectic flush—­

  ’As on consumption’s waning cheek,
  Mid ruin blooms the rose;’

and his hair, which was soft as floss silk, hung in luxuriant curls about his face.  But oh, what an expression of deep melancholy his countenance wore! so remarkable that I felt certain that the fear of death had nothing to do with it.  And I was right.  Young as he was, he did not wish to live.  He repeatedly said that death was what he most desired; and it was truly dreadful to hear one so young and so beautiful talk like this.  ‘Oh!’ he would say, ’let me die! let me die!  Don’t try to save me; I want to die!’ Nevertheless, he was most affectionate, and was extremely grateful for everything that I could do for his relief.  I soon won his heart; but perceived, with pain, that his disease of body was nothing to his ’sickness of the soul,’ which I could not heal.  He leaned upon my bosom and wept, while at the same time he prayed for death.  I have never seen one of his years who courted it so sincerely.  I tried in every way to elicit from him what it was that rendered him so unhappy; but his lips were sealed, and he was like one who tried to turn his face from something which oppressed his spirit.

“It subsequently appeared that the father of this child was hanged for murder in B——­ County, about two years before.  It was the most cold-blooded homicide that had ever been known in that section of the country.  The excitement raged high; and I recollect that the stake and the gallows vied with each other for the victim.  The mob labored hard to get the man out of the jail, that they might wreak summary vengeance upon him by hanging him to the nearest tree.  Nevertheless, law triumphed, and he was hanged.  Justice held up her equal scales with satisfaction, and there was much trumpeting forth of this consummation, in which even the women, merciful, tender-hearted women, seemed to take delight.

“Perceiving the boy’s life to be waning, I endeavored one day to turn his mind to religious subjects, apprehending no difficulty in one so young; but he always evaded the topic.  I asked him if he had said his prayers.  He replied—­