on the dissecting table, lay the frame of that acute and benevolent man; before it stood the lecturer, pale as the corpse, yet self-possessed and reverent; around were seated most of the disciples and friends of the deceased; during the address there was a violent thunderstorm, which threw an indescribable awe over the whole scene; every now and then the countenances of the dead and the living were lit up with the flashes of lightning; still the speaker proceeded, interrupted now and then by the thunder crash, until at length it died away, and seemed to give up quiet possession to the lecturer's voice. In this address was given a brief, but eloquent abstract of the life and writings of Jeremy Bentham.

In 1837 Dr. Smith was made, by the government, one of the Commissioners to inquire into the condition of the poor; his districts were Whitechapel and Bethnal Green, which he inspected with his usual fidelity. His report presents a frightful aspect of the condition of the lower orders of working classes in England. He here demonstrates the disease, suffering and death, generated by the impure exhalation constantly arising from the undrained and uncleansed localities around. "Truly," says he, "this place may be called a great manufactory of death! Nature, with her burning sun, her stilled and pent up wind, her stagnant and teeming marsh, manufactures plagues on a large and fearful scale; poverty in her hut, covered with her rags, surrounded with her filth, striving with all her might to keep out the pure air, and to increase the heat— imitates nature too successfully; the process and the product are the same, the only difference is in the magnitude of the result."

Dr. Smith has the satisfaction of knowing that his perilous undertaking has been rewarded by the improved state of the districts alluded to; the Parliament passed in 1841 the "Drainage Bill," which, in a few years will render fever as rare as the nature of things will allow. Lord Normanby, in introducing the bill, paid a handsome tribute to the unselfish labors of the unwearied and

unostentatious physician. It is to the exertions of such men as Dr. Smith that out of the "mouths of lords" proceed the right voice. Lord Ellenborough said on the debate in question, "It is idle, my lords, to build churches, to erect schoolhouses, and to employ clergymen and schoolmasters, if we do no more. Our first object should be to improve the physical condition of the poor laborer, to place him in a position in which he can acquire self-respect; above all things to give him a home."

Formerly a church was the cure for all diseases and miseries : were the people in rags, the English legislators voted a church! were they starving, build another church! were they decimated by fever, build another church! It was the quack medicine of the time; a church is a necessary thing in its way, but it is more the necessity of a result than of a cause; it is the offspring of comfort, and not of squallidness. Heaven bless the brave bold hearts, who at the risk of calumny and death have stormed the stronghold of that delusion.

As a specimen of Dr. Smith's style, we shall quote a passage exhibiting the wretchedness resulting from defective draining and ventilation. We shall be serving a double end in this matter, for what American or Englishman can read it without feeling that its words are words of solemn warning to all:

"The result is the same as if twenty or thirty thousand of these people were annually taken out of their wretched dwellings and put to death, the actual fact being that they are allowed to remain in them and die. I am now speaking of what silently but surely takes place every year in the metropolis alone, and do not include in this estimate the numbers that perish from these causes in the other great cities and in the towns and villages of the kingdom. It has been stated that the annual slaughter in England and Wales from preventible causes, of typhus fever, which attacks persons in the vigor of life, is double the amount of what was suffered by the allied armies in the battle of Waterloo. This is no exaggerated statement, and this great battle against our people is every year fought and won, and yet few take account of it; partly for the very reason that it takes place every year. However appalling the picture presented

to the mind by this statement, it may be justly regarded as a literal expression of the truth. I am myself convinced, from what I constantly see of the ravages of this disease, that this mode of putting the result does not give an exaggerated expression of it. Indeed the most appalling expression of it would be the mere cold statement of it in figures."

He then goes on to urge the necessity of legislative measures:

"No government can prevent the existence of poverty; no benevolence can reach the evils of extreme poverty under the circumstances which at present universally accompany it; but there is ground of hope and encouragement in the thought that the most painful and debasing of those circumstances are adventitious, and form no necessary and inevitable part of the condition of that large class of every community which must earn their daily bread by their manual labor. These adventitious circumstances constitute the hardest part of the lot of the poor; and these, as I have just said, are capable of being prevented to a very large extent. The labors of a single individual, I mean the illustrious Howard, have at length succeeded in removing exactly similar evils, though somewhat more concentrated and intense, from our prisons. They are at least equally capable of being removed from the dwelling houses and work places of the people. Here there is a field of beneficent labor which fall legitimately within the scope of the legislator, and which is equally within that of the philanthropist, affording a common ground beyond the arena of party strife, by the culture of which all parties may unite with the absolute certainty that they cannot thus labor without producing some good result, and that the good produced, whatever may be its amount, must be unmixed good."

The publication of this report has done more to ameliorate the condition of the lower orders than any effort made of late years; it brought this inquiry permanently before the public, and shamed government into action.

Dr. Smith's next labor of love was to found an institution called the Sanatorium, in which the Club system was brought to bear, to provide a home for the middle classes during sickness. Here they were to be nursed, dieted, watched, and have the ablest medical attendance of the time. The principle was a small annual subscription and an additional weekly sum during illness. It was opened in March, 1842, at Devonshire Place House, and struggled

for three or four years with that apathy with which the middle classes always regard the efforts made for their good by others. It seems, as though, with the false pride and bad taste which universally belongs to that peculiar class, they resented any attempt to rescue them from those contingencies to which we are all liable. This experiment involved the loss of a considerable sum of money, part of which was defrayed by the Committee, and part by the profits of some theatrical exhibitions, in which Dickens, Jerrold, Forster, and the "Punch" contributors were the chief actors.

Dr. Smith is now one of the London Board of Health, and is devoting his energies to the good of his fellow-creatures. He has deliberately sacrificed a large private practice, that he may "work for the million instead of the few."

To quote a line from Goldsmith, he does not

"Give up to private practice what was meant for mankind.”

Dr. Smith, in social life, is benevolent, gentle, and consistent. Beloved by his friends, he enjoys, with peculiar relish, the quiet of rural delights; the most pleasant and intellectual hours we have enjoyed have been with him, wandering after the labors of the day in the fields and woods about Highgate, and speculating on the ulterior destination of man. Dr. Smith believes in the immortality of our identity, and, although a Unitarian, uniformly speaks of our Saviour as a Divine Being; in support of this opinion, taking his conversation as being no evidence to the public, we refer to his "Divine Government."

His conversation is singularly clear, and although slow, and somewhat hesitating in his speech, the words might be taken down from his mouth as uttered, and sent to the printer's without a correction. He reads with peculiar force and discrimination. One of his efforts we particularly remember; it was the greater part of "Comus," one fine May day, in the woods near Loughton-the

only accompaniment to the poetry of Milton being the singing of birds and the rustling of trees.

Dr. Smith has two daughters by his first wife, and a son by his second marriage; the latter union was not fortunate; the dissentients had, however, the good taste to separate amicably, and preserve for each other a mutual respect, although the incompatibility of their tempers prevented their living together in a state of domestic happiness.

In person he is short, and somewhat thickly made; but his head is very fine, and has a striking resemblance to Napoleon's. His eyes are gray, and deeply set-his brow massive and lofty. He is passionately fond of music and poetry. He occasionally preaches in Finsbury Chapel. He is approaching his sixtieth year, and from his temperate habits and strong constitution, seems likely to have a long life to benefit mankind by his labors. It is somewhat surprising that there is no reprint of his works in America.