escape all these, it cannot last long. It is ever undergoing perpetual changes, and the whole duration of life in a healthy individual may be said to consist of a given number of such changes; each one, as it occurs, tells the number less—and if their regular operations are in no way disturbed, as soon as the full complement is finished, life ceases. No human power can lengthen out its operations, or add a single stroke to the pulse.
All that medicine can ever do, is to aid the recuperative powers in removing or overcoming whatever interferes with the due performance of the proper organic functions. This is the narrow ground to which all well-directed medical efforts are limited. Yet it is not to be despised on that account. Imperfect as it is, and inadequate as it ever must be to accomplish all that may be desired, it is nevertheless a priceless boon to humanity. Often, by removing some morbid agent which interferes with the operations of a vital organ and tends directly to destroy life, an individual is rescued from a premature death. By obviating, restraining or lessening the injurious
