 that
state of partial unconsciousness, in which the mind wanders uneasily from scene
to scene, and from place to place, without the control of reason, but still
without being able to divest itself of an indescribable sense of present
suffering. Finding from his incoherent wanderings that this was the case, and
knowing that in all probability the fever would not grow immediately worse, I
left him, promising his miserable wife that I would repeat my visit next
evening, and, if necessary, sit up with the patient during the night.
    I kept my promise. The last four-and-twenty hours had produced a frightful
alteration. The eyes, though deeply sunk and heavy, shone with a lustre
frightful to behold. The lips were parched, and cracked in many places: the dry
hard skin glowed with a burning heat, and there was an almost unearthly air of
wild anxiety in the man's face, indicating even more strongly the ravages of the
disease. The fever was at its height.
    I took the seat I had occupied the night before, and there I sat for hours,
listening to sounds which must strike deep to the heart of the most callous
among human beings - the awful ravings of a dying man. From what I had heard of
the medical attendant's opinion, I knew there was no hope for him: I was sitting
by his death-bed. I saw the wasted limbs, which a few hours before had been
distorted for the amusement of a boisterous gallery, writhing under the tortures
of a burning fever - I heard the clown's shrill laugh, blending with the low
murmurings of the dying man.
    It is a touching thing to hear the mind reverting to the ordinary
occupations and pursuits of health, when the body lies before you weak and
helpless; but when those occupations are of a character the most strongly
opposed to anything we associate with grave or solemn ideas, the impression
produced is infinitely more powerful. The theatre, and the public-house, were
the chief themes of the wretched man's wanderings. It was evening, he fancied;
he had a part to play that night; it was late, and he must leave home instantly.
Why did they hold him, and prevent his going? - he should lose the money - he
must go. No! they would not let him. He hid his face in his burning hands, and
feebly bemoaned his own weakness, and the cruelty of his persecutors. A short
pause, and he shouted out a few doggrel rhymes - the last he had ever learnt. He
rose in
