"I don't think I shall live long," he then said to a friend; "my
mind will--must work itself out, and the body will soon follow
it." A strange confession for a boy to make! But he gave his
physical health no fair chance. His life was all brain-work,
study, and competition. When he took exercise it was in sudden
bursts, which did him more harm than good. Long walks in the
Highlands jaded and exhausted him; and he returned to his brain-
work unrested and unrefreshed.
It was during one of his forced walks of some twenty-four miles in
the neighbourhood of Stirling, that he injured one of his feet,
and he returned home seriously ill. The result was an abscess,
disease of the ankle-joint, and long agony, which ended in the
amputation of the right foot. But he never relaxed in his
labours. He was now writing, lecturing, and teaching chemistry.
Rheumatism and acute inflammation of the eye next attacked him;
and were treated by cupping, blisetring, and colchicum. Unable
himself to write, he went on preparing his lectures, which he
dictated to his sister. Pain haunted him day and night, and sleep
was only forced by morphia. While in this state of general
prostration, symptoms of pulmonary disease began to show
themselves. Yet he continued to give the weekly lectures to which
he stood committed to the Edinburgh School of Arts. Not one was
shirked, though their delivery, before a large audience, was a
most exhausting duty.
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