moral nature. Intense enthusiasm in the pursuit of a favorite study has induced neglect at the family fireside, perhaps a disruption of the marital relationship. As a Colebs it may be but becoming in me to admit that the experience of the great mass of mankind is in favor of married life, and the numerous happy Benedicts around me indicate that they have so judiciously systematized their hours for study, for business, and for relaxation, that they have been aided in their explorations rather than retarded by the wise copartnerships they have formed.

It might be expected that the members of that profession whose aim is the prevention and cure of disease, might enjoy an exemption from morbific influences and attain unusual longevity. The deaths in this Academy forcibly illustrate the fact that we bear no charmed lives, and that we in common with others must incur the disasters which have been entailed upon our race from eating

"Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world."

Science outlives generations-we inherit doctrines from our fathers; these, we may hold, reject, or modify; but we are shortly called to bequeath both the inheritance and the fruits of our own labors to a posterity perhaps restless for the bequest.

"Art is long, and time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still like muffled drums are beating

Funeral marches to the grave."

It is a noteworthy fact that the average age of our departed Presidents, at the time of their de

cease, was seventy-five years; excluding Watson, who died prematurely of malignant disease in his fifty-ninth year, the average age was seventy-eight years. Our presiding officers have been as pre-eminent for their longevity as for their moral worth and professional attainments.

Though we have been called upon to part with so many of our brilliant and conspicuous members, there is, as yet, no evidence of dwarfed mental power or of hebetude in this Academy. It is not philosophical to believe that the human race is, at present, very materially degenerating. Such belief, however, has been entertained from time immemorial, even when there was no necessity for such opinion. Solomon endeavored to refute such a prevalent idea in his day, by these words:"Say not thou, What is the cause that the former days were better than these? for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this." In turning to profane history we find it recorded of Ægis, the Lacedæmonian, that on hearing an old man regret that the former laws and customs were abolished and supplied by worse, insomuch that the State and habit of Sparta were totally subverted and turned topsy-turvy, he gravely answered:-"Then things proceed in their regular and proper order: for I remember, when I was a boy, to have heard my father say, that there was, at that time, a total subversion of things: now, if they are inverted again, they are restored to their pristine state."

A learned and eloquent divine of this city has remarked:" It amuses us when the old gouty count in Gil Blas persists in saying that the peaches were not so good as they were in his boyhood.

Bad as the times may be, they are better and not worse than those behind us, and the poorest use to which we can put our time and faculties is to be querulous over those affairs to which we are personally related, and to stand in what is called the 'barrenness of these degenerate days,' Janus-faced-one countenance, that which is turned to the future, elongated, scowling, and sombre; while that which looks to the past has an expression of wishfulness, smiles, and satisfaction."

We are not justified in regarding our own generation as a degeneration; and I am sure that on viewing the yearly progress made in medical science, any one at all conversant with the subject will concede that we belong to a progressive profession. We frankly admit our inability to explain many physiological phenomena, and our shortcomings in reference to therapeutics; but we have not as yet reached the acme of professional wisdom, nor has any department of human knowledge culminated into completion.

An eminent English physician recently remarked, that he "entertained a profound respect and reverence for all honest laborers in search of truth, whether they have preceded us by twenty years or by two thousand years; and an unwavering confidence and faith in the future that lies before the science of medicine. We traverse a sea mapped with imperfect charts, but assured of a safe guide in our compass and stars, but we cannot afford to neglect a single rock or shoal, buoyed for us by the skill and care of those that have preceded. Let us follow their example and mark with conscientious care, for

1

our successors, the dangers we ourselves discover and escape.

But in buoying a shoal, clearing a channel, or erecting a light-house, many a valuable life may be lost. How many have there been in our profession who have sacrificed their lives while elucidating the mysteries of physiology, pathology, and therapeutics, to say nothing of the hecatombs of those who have fallen while fearlessly wrestling with pestilential disorders.

We have seen that a number of our academicians have enjoyed longevity, but there are many who are not fitted, physically, to endure unusual mental labor. Such we have had among us, and death has snatched them while eagerly prying into the secrets of life and the mysteries of the charnel-house. There are others in whom you can observe the pallid cheek, the dimmed eye, the fluttering pulse, the sensitive nerve, occasioned by their devotion to science.

While mere curiosity may prompt a few, and a desire for reputation and wealth incite others to relinquish many social enjoyments in the pursuit of knowledge, many are animated to intense application in order that there may be conceived in the "womb of the pia mater" some thought or plan of action which will serve to ameliorate the condition of suffering humanity. Industry and constant devotion must characterize the philosophical explorer, and the earlier in life attention is riveted upon original research, the greater will be the scientific achievements. "With youth at the prow and pleasure at the helm," our neophytes would permit medical

philosophy to languish and dissolve into a chaos of chimerical hypotheses. While we mourn our distinguished dead, we have reason for congratulation in the possession of Seniors who are ripe in years, learning, and honors, and of Juniors who, with emulative zeal, are pressing forward in their footsteps. The Seniors we recognize as having donated a full measure of ten talents to the Academy, a part received by inheritance and a part the result of their own labors; while the Juniors accept the trust determining not to repose on the patrimony and gift, but to augment it tenfold, and when in turn they retire from the field of action to transmit the accumulation to their successors.

From the time of Hippocrates to the present day, our profession has regarded the prevention of disease as its noblest object. The great mass of the world, however, do not look to us so much for the means of prophylaxis as they do for the relief of their maladies.

A fear of death is naturally implanted in man's bosom, though to die is as natural as to be born. Even the pure and holy may shrink from entering an unknown world. Some there are, who, tired of life, desire dissolution as a relief from trouble. Others have a morbid fear of death. The majority of physicians might say with Scott,

"By many a death-bed have I been,

And many a sinner's parting seen,"

and could bear testimony to the fact that during the last stages of disease, when there is consciousness, there is either calm resignation, a joyful hope, or