anatomical class, for showing an affectionate regard for their great teacher."

Dr. Knox could have brought his enemies to strict account, and obtained heavy damages for their foul libels, but he preferred the policy of forbearance, as he had that of silence, and to leave the matter to be determined when the excitement should cease. So he kept on steadily with his work. One night, when a large class had assembled to hear him, the proceedings were interrupted by the yells and threats of an outside crowd, so that the students became alarmed. Knox, perceiving the growing restlessness of the audience, paused, and remarked: "Gentlemen, you are disquieted by these noises, to which no doubt you attach a proper meaning. Do not be alarmed; it is my life, not yours, they seek. How little I regard these ruffians you may well judge, for, in spite of daily warnings, and the destruction of my property, I have met you at every hour of lecture during the session; and I am not aware that my efforts to convey instruction have been less clear or less acceptable to you." This statement was received with such cheers as never before rang through a class-room in Edinburgh; and, amid all his troubles and trials, he found his only solace in the approval and affection of his students.

Dr. Knox at length broke his long silence by a letter to the Caledonian Mercury, of which the following is a part: