"L\'art (de délicatesse) consiste à ne pas tout dire sur certains sujets, à glisser dessus plut?t que d\'y appuyer; en un mot, à en laisser penser aux autres plut?t que l\'on n\'en dit."—Bouhours.

One of the most beautiful poems in the English language, perhaps, is Armstrong\'s "Art of Health." Whether it be that the title is uninviting, or from some other cause, I know not, but it is very little read; yet scarcely any one who has read it, has done so without pleasure. Besides containing many admirable and valuable instructions, it shows how an ordinary, and to many even a repulsive, subject can be treated with such discretion, taste, and even elegance, as to render it pleasing and attractive.

Such a writer could have conveyed, even in prose, explanations of disease so as to interest and instruct his readers. With no such power, we are almost inclined to regret the impossibility of doing Abernethy justice, without saying something of nearly all his works. If, however, in so doing, we make one more step towards familiarizing the public with matters which affect their best interests, we shall not regret any labour which this, the most difficult part of our task, may have required.

We so usually connect pain with disease, that, in our haste, we are apt to imagine that it is not merely the worst feature, but the only sign of it. "I am very well, I am in no pain whatever," is a common expression, and yet a person may be irremediably stricken, without suffering any pain. Pain is, in fact, often the best possible monitor, and has saved many thousands of lives by the necessity it has imposed of observing what is the best of all remedies, in a large class of cases. Amongst hundreds of examples,56 we might cite several affections of joints, wherein pain alone has sometimes exacted the observance of that which surgeons were a long time before they had learned the full advantage of; and which, when they had been taught it by Abernethy, they have often failed, with all their endeavours, to accomplish, but which, when efficiently secured, is of more consequence than any one other remedy; we mean "absolute repose" There are plenty of diseases marked by little or no pain, or which, at all events, are not painful; but they are amongst the most fatal and insidious of human maladies. Let us commence the record of some of the numerous improvements we owe to the genius of Abernethy, by mentioning one of them.

We have, too many of us probably, observed something like the following, on the assembling of a family of a morning: the usual greetings interchanged, and that cheerful meal, breakfast, fairly begun, our attention has been directed to some fine, comely, perhaps beautiful girl, who, to the hilarious spirits of her laughing sisters, has only contributed a somewhat languid smile. We may, perhaps, have remarked that she is a little more spoken to by her mother than any other of the family circle; we may, too, have observed a tone compounded of confidence and gentleness, somewhat different from that addressed to her sisters. Still, though less hilarious than the rest, she has chatted away with considerable cheerfulness; she has, however, a languor in her manner, which but for the surrounding contrast, might not have occurred to us. On rising from the breakfast-table, we observe that her gait is peculiar. She is not exactly lame; but her step has something between firmness and faltering, that seems to indicate more effort or less power.

Poor girl! she is about to have, if she have it not already, a stealthy and hitherto almost painless disease; stealthy, because it is so far a comparatively painless malady. Deep in the loins there has been the smouldering fire of disease, which is to result in what is called "Lumbar abscess." This grievous malady, which in many instances begins not less insidiously than I have mentioned, is found on inquiry not to have been wholly without some of those premonitory signs which, in obedience to the beneficent57 laws of the animal economy, almost invariably precede even the most insidious malady. Inquiry generally elicits that, however little complained of, there has been at times more or less of uneasiness, if not pain, felt in the loins; that it has not been so much lately; but that it has become less in force or frequency, since the appearance of some swelling, which may be in the loins, or some other part, lower or more or less distant.

It is a malady very commonly connected with diseased spine, but frequently without any such complication; and it is curious that Mr. Abernethy at first met with as many as, I think, eight cases in succession, which were not complicated with any disease of the spine. Under any circumstances, it is a serious malady, and usually, when the collection bursts, or is opened, severe constitutional symptoms supervene, which, though not without exceptions, gradually usher in what Armstrong calls
"The slow minings of the hectic fire,"

and destroy the patient.

Now, Mr. Abernethy\'s plan was intended to prevent this last and dreaded issue. The chief points of excellence in his recommendations are—

First, the emphatic recognition of the constitutional origin and nature of the malady;

Secondly, the consequent necessity of a greater attention to the general health of the patient;

And lastly, if it could not be dispersed, to relieve the interior of its contents, so that its extensive surface should never be exposed.

The mode of proceeding was extremely simple, and there is no doubt that a great many lives have been saved by the practice thus recommended. I have heard, however, that some surgeons think the merits of the plan overrated, which I can only suppose explicable on the ground that it has been imperfectly followed out; and I am the more disposed to this view, because nothing can be more entirely opposed to Mr. Abernethy\'s principles and intentions, than the treatment of many cases said to have been treated after Mr. Abernethy\'s plan.

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As a considerable number of families............