personal histories been woven into a more coherent whole; but the book
has not been made for literary men. The philanthropist, whether a
theoretical or a practical one, will find in its pages little
preaching after his particular vein, either upon the vice or the
danger of opium-eating. Possibly, as he peruses these various records,
he may do much preaching for himself, but he will not find a great
deal furnished to his hand, always excepting the rather inopportune
reflections of Mr. Joseph Cottle over the case of his unhappy friend
Coleridge. The book has been compiled for opium-eaters, and to their
notice it is urgently commended. Sufferers from protracted and
apparently hopeless disorders profit little by scientific information
as to the nature of their complaints, yet they listen with profound
interest to the experience of fellow-sufferers, even when this
experience is unprofessionally and unconnectedly told. Medical
empirics understand this and profit by it. In place of the general
statements of the educated practitioner of medicine, the empiric
encourages the drooping hopes of his patient by narrating in detail
the minute particulars of analagous cases in which his skill has
brought relief.

Before the victim of opium-eating is prepared for the services of an
intelligent physician he requires some stimulus to rouse him to the
possibility of recovery. It is not the _dicta_ of the medical
man, but the experience of the relieved patient, that the opium-eater,
desiring--nobody but he knows how ardently--to enter again into the
world of hope, needs, to quicken his paralyzed will in the direction
of one tremendous effort for escape from the thick night that blackens
around him. The confirmed opium-eater is habitually hopeless. His
attempts at reformation have been repeated again and again; his
failures have been as frequent as his attempts. He sees nothing before