THE MEDICAL ASPECTS OF DEATH. Hamlet. Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord? Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth? Hor. Even so. Ham. And smelt so? pah! Hor. Even so, my lord. SHAKSPEARE. B THE MEDICAL ASPECTS OF DEATH. "DOST thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'the earth?" How pregnant is such a question with meaning,-the noble dust of Alexander like the corrupting skull of the king's jester! How natural to ask ourselves the question, Shall we also look o' this fashion i' the earth?. we want no Horatio to answer, "Even so." But though it is common to speak of death, I do not think it is very common to consider it. We are, in truth, too much afraid to look at it in its physical aspects. The subject may seem repulsive, but it is one which a rational being should not altogether disregard, because many practical advantages arise from making it an object of study. It must be remembered that it is a privilege peculiar to human nature, to preconsider the last moments of existence. But I am not one of those who would wish to throw a gloom upon life, and carry the skull round at the feast-I would rather throw the light of reason, as far as it will shine, on the mysteries of the grave. How interesting are our first impressions of death! — when we first looked timidly at the familiar features of a dear parent stiffened and pinched with the hand of death! Who cannot recall to mind that cold apartment which had so lately been the scene of anxious watching and tender solicitude, the formal sheeted corse, the appalling stillness of the com pressed lip and icy coldness of that last kiss? It is at such times that the feelings rise to the noblest sentiments of our nature, and we see the littleness of human ambition, and the ficance of life, for then the hurry of business is suspended, and there is a pause in the drama of events. It would be curious to trace the forms and ceremonies which surviving friends have adopted to show their respect for the dead. The custom of strewing flowers on the tomb is, perhaps, one of the most simple and touching. This custom is beautifully alluded to in "Cymbeline": "With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, I shall not stop, however, to dwell on these topics, nor describe the "trappings and suits of woe," which are not always the accompaniments of real grief. The nodding plumes and lengthened processions of the great only betray how little wealth and rank can rescue their |