INTESTINAL FEVER AND ULCERATION. 
281 
22 d . — He does not breathe so laboriously, nor cough so fre- 
quently or painfully, and the pulse is 140, but as weak and 
thready as ever : he is, however, still more lost to surrounding 
objects. My kind and valued medical friend met me at the 
gardens. We both regarded it as a lost case, or that the only 
chance of success lay in rousing and supporting the animal 
power by some mild stimulant, and we determined to give him 
a small quantity — a couple of drachms — of ginger tea, three times 
in the day ; coaxing him, at the same time, to take asses’ or 
cows’ milk frequently, somewhat diluted. I saw him again in the 
evening, and, if 1 could have believed it, I should have said 
that he was better. He was a little more lively ; the respiration 
was quieter, and he did not cough so much : he was, however, 
very weak ; and although he brightened up for a moment or two, 
his eyes speedily closed, and he looked as if he were dying. 
23 d . — He is as weak and low as he can possibly be, but the 
cough is materially lessened, and the breathing is quieter. The 
pulse is 130, and as weak and fluttering as it was yesterday. 
He will take his milk, but a less quantity at each time. On the 
whole, he seems to be a little better. 
In the evening he roused himself, and climbed up his tree of 
his own accord. Continue the ginger tea. 
24 th . — In the morning he was cheerful, and took his milk 
with evident appetite; but his countenance had assumed a still 
greater degree of pallidness. In the afternoon there was a sad 
change. The face was blanched ; the eyes were sunk and almost 
closed ; the lower lip fell, and he scarcely took notice of any 
one. His milk, however, he would slowly sip when it was put 
to his mouth, but not more than a table-spoonful at a time. 
His pulse was with the greatest difficulty felt, and it fluttered 
in a most singular manner. His faeces begin to pass from him 
involuntarily. Double the quantity of the stomachic. 
25th . — Hope has now quite fled. All his evacuations are in- 
voluntary, and although he will sip a little milk when it is 
held to his mouth, the only notice which he takes of his best 
friends, even of his old nurse, who loved him almost as if he 
were her child, was to slowly open his sunken eyes, and gaze 
piteously for a moment on her or his keeper; and then the 
lid would droop and fall, and a feeble breathing, attended by 
a faint moan, were the only indications of life. 
I saw him about ten o’clock at night. At eleven, he all at 
once roused himself, and began to scream violently. He was 
taken out, and wrapped in a blanket, and held on the lap of his 
keeper, to whom he clung as closely as he could, frequently 
feebly raising his head and gazing piteously on his face. This 
