REMINISCENCES 
OF THE 
EARLIEST DAYS 
OF 
JEFFERSON MEDICAL COLLEGE 
AN ADDRESS 
DELIVERED BEFORE THE 
ALUMNI ASSOCIATION 
OF THE 
JEFFERSON MEDICAL COLLEGE OF PHILADELPHIA 
AT ITS THIRD ANNIVERSARY, 
MARCH 11, 1873, 
WASHINGTON L. ATLEE, M.D. 
BY 
PHILADELPHIA: 
P. MADEIRA, SURGICAL INSTRUMENT MAKER, 
115 SOUTH TENTH STREET, BELOW CHESTNUT. 
1873. REMINISCENCES 
OF THE 
EARLIEST DAYS 
OP 
JEFFERSON MEDICAL COLLEGE. 
AN ADDRESS 
DELIVERED BEFORE THE 
ALUMNI ASSOCIATION 
OF THE 
JEFFERSON MEDICAL COLLEGE OF PHILADELPHIA 
AT ITS THIRD ANNIVERSARY, 
MARCH 11, 1873. 
WASHINGTON L. ATLEE, M.D. 
BY 
PHILADELPHIA: 
P. MADEIRA, SURGICAL INSTRUMENT MAKER, 
115 SOUTH TENTH STKEET, BELOW CHESTNUT. 
1873. OFFICERS OF THE ASSOCIATION. 
President. 
Prof. SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D., LL.D. 
Drs. Nathan L. Hatfield, Ellwood Wilson, 
Washington L. Atlee, and Addinell Hewson. 
Resident Vice-Presidents. 
Recording Secretary. 
Dr. J. Ewing Mears. 
Corresponding Secretary. 
Dr. Richard J. Dunglison. 
Prof. B. Howard Rand, M.D. 
Treasurer. 
Executive Committee. 
Prof. Ellerslie Wallace, 
J. Aitken Meigs. 
Drs. A. C. Bournonville, 
R. J. Levis, 
J. M. Da Costa, 
J. H. Brinton, 
Wm. S. Knight, 
» S. W. Gross, 
R. M. Girvin, 
Wm. II. Pancoast, 
J. C. Norris, 
Drs. F. F. Maury, 
Win. Thomson, 
W. W. Keen, 
Wm. B. Atkinson, 
G. R. Morehouse, 
W. II. Ford, 
T. II. Andrews, 
J. It. Burden, 
0. II. Allis, 
R. M. Townsend, 
N. Hatfield. 
The Annual Meeting of the Association was held at the College on March 10th, in 
the evening, the President, Prof. Samuel D. Gross, in the chair. 
A large audience of the Alumni, among them some of the most distinguished mem- 
bers of the profession, was assembled to hear the address of the Orator for the occasion, 
Dr. Washington L. Atlee, one of the Vice-Presidents of the Association. 
After the delivery of the oration, the Secretary read the report of the Executive 
Committee, which gave in detail the work performed by them in reference to the 
movement to raise funds for the erection of the new College and Hospital Building. 
The Committee had perfected their plans by which they felt confident of carrying this 
great work to a successful issue. Already they were able to report most encouraging 
success. 
The report was discussed by the Alumni present, and great interest was manifested 
in the success of the movement. 
The list of membership was increased by the addition of a number of names—the 
majority enrolling themselves as life-members of the Association. 
On the evening of Commencement-Day the Social Reunion was held at the Assem- 
bly Building. The members of the Graduating Class and a large number of the 
Alumni were present. The regular toasts for the evening were introduced by the 
President, and responded to by members of the Faculty and Alumni Association. ADDRESS. 
Mr. President, Gentlemen, and Fellow Alumni 
of Jefferson Medical College:— 
The anniversary of man is annual; that of institutions may be 
considered quinquagesimal; and that of nations centenary. We are 
now approaching the anniversary of both our noble institution and 
of our great republic, and although we have none among us who 
witnessed the baptism of this nation, yet a few remain who sprinkled 
the life-giving and life-sustaining water on the infant—Jefferson 
Medical College. Although they have outlived two generations of 
man, they still have the vigor of youth, and, Deo volente, will cele- 
brate both the Jeffersonian and National birthdays, to whose repu- 
tation and honor some of them have so largely contributed. 
In the spring of 1826, nearly half a century ago, four young 
medical students were assembled in the office of Dr. John L. Atlee, 
of Lancaster, for the purpose of forming a quizzing club. Quietly 
engaged in our deliberations, we were suddenly disturbed by a start- 
ling rap at the door. In a moment a young man, breathless and 
excited, bounded into our midst. He was a.stranger to ws,but our 
preceptor, soon entering, recognized him as a classmate and intro- 
duced us severally by name. His features were strongly marked, 
his gray, penetrating eyes deeply set, and his tongue and body were 
in constant motion. He seemed to be the embodiment of strong 
will, indomitable energy and determination, and every action of his 
small wiry frame bore the impress of a restless and vigorous brain. 
At the door stood a sulky with a sweating, bleating horse, which 
he had driven without mercy over sixty miles that very day, having 
left Philadelphia the same morning. He must be in Harrisburg, 
thirty-six miles beyond, that night. His horse could go no further. 
He must have another. I never saw a better illustration of that 
passage in Shakspeare, where King Richard the Third exclaims— 
“A horse ! a liorse ! my kingdom for a horse !” 
My preceptor’s horse and sulky were soon at the door and at his 
service. Hector, a noble animal, did his work well that momentous night, and before twenty-four hours had elapsed after he had left 
Philadelphia this young M.D. [mad doctor] was hammering at the 
door of our legislature! 
H is mission in Harrisburg was soon accomplished, and, as before, 
he arrived in Lancaster at night. It was very dark, yet, in spite of 
all remonstrances, he ordered out his horse and off he flew for Phila- 
delphia. He had driven but a few miles, when, while dashing along, 
he upset in the highway. Here was a predicament from which he 
could not extricate himself without assistance. It was night, and the 
honest country people were in bed. After repeated halloos a farmer 
made his appearance with a lantern which threw some light upon 
the dismal scene. Quite naturally the farmer began to inquire into 
all -the particulars of the accident instead of at once attempting to 
right the difficulties. Our impatient courier could not tolerate 
this. u Come, come, good friend, that won’t do. Let us put our 
shoulder to the wheel and leave explanations until another time.” 
Things were soon put into driving order, and next day the charter 
of the “Medical Department of Jefferson College” was in the city 
of Philadelphia. 
“ There’s no impossibility to him 
Who stands prepared to conquer every hazard : 
The fearful are the failing.” 
Gentlemen, this was before the days of the iron-horse driven by 
fire and water with lightning speed. And yet there was a mental 
fire, an iron will, and a propelling force in that human locomotive 
that defied all opposition, and accomplished the foundation of our 
noble institution. Need I say that this genius was young McClellan ? 
Some time after this memorable occurrence, in the fall of the same 
year, some of these students, who had been so agreeably surprised 
by the transient visit of McClellan, came to Philadelphia to attend 
a course of lectures. The}' called to see him, and very much to their 
astonishment he recognized and named each one as an old acquaint- 
ance. From the fact that the first interview was very short, and 
that his mind was so wholly preoccupied by the important object 
of his mission, they viewed the circumstance as a remarka ble in- 
stance of memory. It is worthy of remark, also, that half of that 
Lancaster party are still living—Dr. Atlee, several years 
threescore-years-and-ten, the oldest active practitioner in his own 
county, a gentleman of enviable reputation and eminence, and who, 
in the “days that tried men’s souls,” gave “God-speed” to the 
founder of our institution ; Dr. Jonathan M. Foltz, the distinguished 
retired surgeon, and ex-Surgeon General of the United States Navy; 
and lastly, your humble orator on this occasion. The departed —all good and true men—were Dr. George B. Kerfoot, a teacher of 
anatomy in Lancaster, an active participator in all the literary and 
benevolent projects of his day, to whose memory a monument has 
been erected by his Masonic brethren; Dr. Henry D. Dietrich, who 
after his graduation settled in this city—a modest, unassuming, and 
excellent practitioner; and Dr. George McClellan, whose memory is 
sacred in the hearts of his surviving pupils, and upon whose monu- 
ment, wherein we are now assembled, “Immortelles” will be annually 
strewed. 
“ Cold in the dust his perish’d heart doth lie, 
But that which warm’d it once shall never die.” 
Gentlemen, shall I continue these reminiscences ? My old class- 
mates, a few of whom I rejoice to see around me, I know will par- 
don me for the sake of “ auld lang syne;” while to the }?ounger 
alumni the cradle-life of their Alma Mater cannot be devoid of inter- 
est. If the latter in the course of their peregrinations will stop at 
Ninth and Market Streets, and turn their faces southward, they will 
see as they advance two stately buildings standing upon their right. 
At that early day the south building represented the greatest medi- 
cal school of this country. If they now continue their walk to 
Walnut Street, turn to the left and go eastward for two squares, 
they will have a fine park upon their right called Washington 
Square. This was once the Potter’s field, the receptacle of dead 
paupers and executed criminals. Continuing on till they arrive at 
Sixth Street, turning southward, they will see on their left opposite 
the square a row of fine buildings. These occupy the spot of the 
Walnut Street prison, a grim and ghastly structure which extended 
to Prune Street. Having arrived at Prune Street, now Locust, 
turn to the left, walk eastward on the north side of Locust until 
yon get opposite to No. 518; halt! right-about-face! and survey 
that structure. You see a very humble-looking building orna- 
mented with inscriptions, such as “ Roussel’s Mineral Water;” 
“Manufactory of Soaps and Perfumery,” etc. As we survey it 
it seems to exclaim— 
“ To what base uses have I come at last! ” 
Now let us remove all these embellishments, that decorate or dis- 
figure its walls, and replace the broken lights, and we will have re- 
turned it to its original condition, just as it appeared in the year 
1826. Its old associates have gone! The sombre, frowning prison 
—“ the very mansion house of misery”—has yielded up its territory 
to the counsellors-at-law ; and the field of death has offered up its 
corruptible bodies to fertilize and adorn the foliage and flowers of 
our beautiful square,—a revival of the dead, typical of the resurrec- tion, when this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this 
mortal must put on immortality! 
This commonplace building, which you are now contemplating, 
is the birth-place of Jefferson Medical College! A prison in front 
of it, and a paupers’ burial-ground at its side ! Truly a portentous 
beginning! IIow like the poor newly fledged doctor—an abundance 
of penniless patients; all work and no pa}r; in debt, with a prison 
staring him in the face and a convenient graveyard to bury from 
sight the victims of his inexperience !—Here, driven, as it were, into 
a corner, with nothing but death and the dungeon to contemplate, 
overshadowed and opposed by the most renowned medical school-of 
that day, and unsupported by the medical men of the country, a 
few bold and enterprising adventurers threw down the gauntlet 
either to conquer or to die. Long, bitter, and exhaustive was the bat- 
tle, and many a foeman’s steel was shivered in the conflict. The 
young Minerva for whom they fought, however, waxed stronger and 
stronger ; gained rapidly upon the affections of the profession ; 
supplied a want that was ultimatel}' acknowledged; and improved 
the status and numbers even of the Universit}'; and now, through a 
righteous and honorable competition, stands second to no medical 
institution in the Western hemisphere! 
Who "were those brave spirits that dared to beard the lion in his 
den? George McClellan, John Eberle, Jacob Green, William I\ C. 
Barton, Benjamin Rush Rhees, John Barnes, and Nathan R. Smith, 
Dean of the Faculty. As the characters of these gentlemen have been 
faithfully drawn by the President of this association, in his inaugural 
address, it will not be necessary for me to refer to them, except as 
connected with some personal reminiscences of the time when J was 
a pupil. I matriculated in the fall of 182G, and immediately entered 
the office of Professor McClellan. He had a large class of private 
students, and was in the habit of quizzing them every night on the 
lectures of the preceding day. His manner was earnest, his ques- 
tions minute, and he expected prompt and correct answers. If he 
failed in getting such a reply, he often became highly indignant. On 
one occasion, while examining on the anatomy of the heart, a ques- 
tion went from one to another unanswered, until it reached the 
youngest member of the class—a first course student. McClellan 
could scarcely control himself, and after exhibiting his disappoint- 
ment, he exclaimed: “ I lay my life, Mr. , the youngest stu- 
dent here will answer it! ” The young gentleman knew the question, 
but having been placed in such an invidious position, declined to 
answer. The excitement increased : “ I insist upon it, you know 
it, and you must answer.” The reply was quietly given. “ There, now,” said McClellan, “are yon not ashamed of yourselves, gentle- 
men, some of you second and third course students, not to be able to 
answer a simple question like that?” When that young man left 
McClellan’s office, it was with the intention of never returning to it 
again. Two weeks passed by and he did not return, although he 
was regular in attendance on McClellan’s lectures. One Saturda}', 
as he was entering the lecture room, the Janitor placed a note in 
his hand, which he at once recognized as McClellan’s writing. It 
read thus: “ Do you never intend to show the light of your coun- 
tenance in my office again ? I shall be most happy to see you there 
this evening.” The student kept his resolution, and did not go. 
Next morning, soon after breakfast, the servant summoned him from 
his room, by announcing that a gentleman wished to see him in 
the parlor. He went down, and who was it but McClellan ! “Come, 
come,” said he, “ put on 3rour hat and coat; I want you to ride with me 
this morning.” The invitation was gladly accepted, the thing talked 
over, explanations were made, and promises on both sides given, 
and after dining together at his own house, they parted friends, and 
always remained so. 
Among the private pupils of McClellan, during the session of 
1826-27, was a tall, gaunt, yet fine-looking, gentlemanly young man 
from an interior county of Pennsylvania. It was his first session, 
and he was a hard-working, industrious student. He took the de- 
gree of M.D. at the termination of the succeeding session, when I re- 
mained at home. His career ever since has been upward and 
onward, and his motto seems to have been “ Excelsior.” Rare 
honors, honestly won, have been showered upon him, and I ask you 
to join me now in publicly congratulating this son of “Old Jeff” on 
his well-earned and well-deserved titles of M.D., LL.D., and D.C.L. 
They sit most gracefull}’’ upon his venerable brow. 
“ Titles of honor add not to his worth 
Who is an honor to his title.” 
He is still an abiding spirit among us. May his days of useful- 
ness be extended to the utmost limits of human existence ! He has 
been illuminating the obscure paths of his profession for many long 
years, and, when the spirit shall leave the Gross elements which it 
inhabits, he will continue to live in medical history and medical 
science for ages and ages to come. 
An incident occurred during that winter of our pupilage, and af- 
terwards recorded, during the war of the rebellion, in the “ Wash- 
ington Sunday Morning Chronicle,” which will bear repetition here. 
The communication was headed :— “ Thou art weighed in the balance, and art not found 
wanting.”—Daniel v. 27. 
The writer says : “I visited Philadelphia that winter for the pur- 
pose of attending a course of medical lectures, and became a private 
pupil of a distinguished surgeon, then a professor in one of the 
medical institutions of the city. 
“ Now for the incident. In the winter above referred to a son 
was born to this distinguished surgeon. The event had scarcely 
transpired before the father announced it to his delighted pupils. 
In a few moments more, scales were brought from a neighboring 
grocer. Into one dish he placed the babe, into the other all the 
weights. The beam was raised, but the child moved not! The 
father, emptying his pockets, threw in his watch, coin, keys, knives, 
and lancets, but to no purpose—the little hero could not be moved! 
He conquered everything! And, at last, while adding more and 
more weight, the cord supporting the beam gave way and broke, 
rather than the giant infant would yield ! 
“ That father was George McClellan, M.D., late of Philadelphia, 
and that son is George B. McClellan, our young commander of the 
Potomac. 
“ The country will perceive a prophetic charm in this incident. 
Truly, he teas weighed in the balance and not found wanting. May 
his present and future life stand the test as well ! Surrounded as 
he is by traitors at home, while rampant rebellion is before him, I 
hear him, amidst the jealousy and envy of cavilers, quietly praying, 
with Job, 4 Let me be weighed in an even balance, that God may 
know mine integrity !’ ” 
This incident is interesting, and turned out to be prophetic—for 
the string of the balance unfortunately broke! 
Another writer about the same time remarked: “If General 
McClellan is the son of his father, in mind and manhood ; if he has 
equal breadth, depth, and clearness ; equal quickness and certainty; 
equal throngh-and-throughness in seeing, firmness in grasping, certi- 
tude and force in executing, and a similar mixture of courage and 
caution, insight and foresight, he will answer all the expectations 
that rest upon him.” 
These reminiscences, gentlemen, are confined so far to the first 
session of the Medical Department of Jefferson College as a char- 
tered institution. One course of lectures had been given before. 
I was absent during the session of 1827-28, and returned as a can- 
didate for graduation in the winter of 1828-29, and again entered 
McClellan’s office. The condition of things had greatly changed. 
Professors Barnes and Smith had retired from the faculty. No new appointments had been made. McClellan and Eberle each 
occupied two chairs, and Barton was dean. The little domicile in 
Prune Street, which had been erected for a cotton factory by Von 
Bonhorst, a Hollander, was found to be inadequate as a manufac- 
tory of doctors. Young “Jeff” had begun to assume some im- 
portance, and steadily had increased in numbers. Like the youth- 
ful Aesculapius, when his practice improves, forsakes his obscure 
location for a more fashionable neighborhood, so “ Jetf” had aban- 
doned the factory, the prison, and the graveyard, for a more stylish 
and respectable part of the city, and now occupied a magnificent 
temple, whose walls, for the last forty-five years, have borne good 
witness to the teachings of men whom all delight to honor. 
In looking at the Catalogue of that session, which I think was 
the first one published, I find the following 
“ Advertisement. 
“ The present session of the Lectures is held in the 
very elegant and appropriately furnished new build- 
ing, in Tenth Street ; in which every accommodation 
which can facilitate the studies, or promote the conve- 
nience of the student, has been provided.” 
This Catalogue, as you have witnessed, is not got up with much 
taste. It resembles very much the old-fashioned primer. It is a 
book containing six duodecimo leaves, comprising the title-page, 
an advertisement, a list of the trustees, a list of the faculty, a cata- 
logue of the matriculates of the session of 1828-29, a list of the 
graduates of 1826, 1821, and of 1828. 
The dean, you will remember, was Professor Barton, usually 
called Bill Barton. He was a very learned man, an eminent botanist, 
a delightful lecturer, and an author. To the simple-minded country 
student he seemed to be too theatrical in dress, chamelionizing his 
colors day after day. It was generally remarked that he had every 
kind of sense but common sense. At the opening of the session, 
in addition to the ordinary matriculating ticket, the dean had pre- 
pared a very handsomely engraved certificate, about half the size 
of a diploma, which he presented to each student. 
In addition to the regular courses of lectures given by the 
faculty, a gratuitous course on “mental science” was delivered by 
one of the trustees, the llev. Ezra Stiles Ely, D.D., pastor of the 
Third Presbyterian Church of Philadelphia. Meetings at stated 
times were also held by the faculty, and outside members of the 
profession, for discussion on collateral subjects. I am not certain, 
but I am under the impression that these were inaugurated in the new building. They sometimes were exceedingly interesting, and 
the debates often spicy. Eberle, the Lancaster County drummer 
boy, or, as we sometimes called him, the “ Little Dutchman,” always 
appeared at a disadvantage. Although he was considered one of 
the best medical writers in the country, he had not the “gift o’ the 
gab,” could not extemporize, and consequently he was no debater. 
He was a small man, and his supracranial region was very bald. I 
remember at one time there was a discussion on phrenology, in 
which several gentlemen engaged in advocating this comparatively 
new branch of science. One point was rather prominently ad- 
vanced: that a high forehead was a strong evidence of great in- 
tellect. A certain Dr. Black, a frequent visitor at these meetings, 
entered into the discussion, and was rather disposed to ridicule the 
whole subject. In the course of his remarks, he, in the spirit of 
burlesque, “ brought down the house,” by exclaiming: “Look at 
my friend Eberle, in demonstration of your position, a man of the 
greatest intellectual development, for his forehead is so high that 
it extends clear to the back of his head !” 
At this session, as is the case, I suppose, at every other, and in 
all medical schools, there was a certain number of idle and unruly 
students, who were a constant annoyance to the lecturers, as well 
as to the more attentive pupils. On one occasion it was particu- 
larly noticeable. Professor Bliees, a most modest, unassuming, 
Christian gentleman, whose lectures were always beautiful,eloquent, 
and instructive, was addressing the class. His eye was frequently 
directed to a disturbing party, and at the conclusion of his lecture 
he requested certain students, on their return to their rooms, to 
open their Bible at the 13th chapter of 1st Corinthians, lltli verse, 
and to read it carefully. Of course every student that day read: 
“ When I was a child, I sjialce as a child, I understood as a child, 
I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away child- 
ish things.” The rebuke, so much deserved, was delicate and 
effective. 
It is, perhaps, not known to most of the alumni that in the early 
days of “ Jefferson,” the mode of examination of the candidate for 
a degree was very different from what it is now. At present the 
examination is entirely private, the student sees but one professor 
at a time. Then, the trembling candidate was ushered into the 
august presence of the whole faculty assembled for that special pur- 
pose, and was subjected to the queries of each one in turn, and to 
the criticism of all. In the new building there was a room in the 
basement used by the faculty for their own meetings and for the 
examination of candidates. It was called the “green room” or “ rose chamber.” I believe it received its name from the circum- 
stance that walls were green, and that a rose was painted upon 
the centre of the ceiling. Towards the end of the session this room 
haunted the dreams of many a candidate. 
The dean had as many odd fancies as he had garments, for our 
president has told you that “ he seldom wore the same coat, vest, 
or cravat on two successive days.” When I handed in my thesis, 
he gave me this note, which is the original paper, 6 inches by 
now fortj7-five years old. It reads thus :— 
“ Washington L. Atlee—Candidate. 
No. 5. W. P. C. Barton, Dean of the Med. Fac. of Jef. Col. 
Nov. 6, 1828, £ past 3.” 
Towards the end of the session I received this letter printed on 
blue paper. The superscription is 
“To Mr. Washington L. Atlee [No. 5], 
Blue-Letter Student of the 
Jefferson Medical College, 
Philadelphia.” 
The contents are :— 
“ Rose Chamber, Jefferson Med. Col., Tenth Street, 
Philadelphia, Feb'y 19th, 1829. 
To Mr. Washington L. Atlee, 
of Lancaster, Penna. 
Sir: Having conformed to all the conditions established by the 
law of Pennsylvania in relation to the Jefferson Medical College of 
this city, as prerequisites to entitle you to become a candidate for 
its highest medical honor, and having defrayed the contingent ex- 
penses incidental thereto, you are hereby authorized to present 
yourself to the Medical Faculty of this Institution, for an exami- 
nation on the different branches of medical science with which the 
act of the legislature and the usages of this school demand an 
acquaintance. Should you satisfactorily pass this test of your 
qualifications, the degree of doctor of medicine will be conferred 
on you by the trustees of the institution, at the approaching medi- 
cal commencement. If otherwise, the contingent expenses will be 
refunded to you, on your return to me of this credential. You are 
summoned to be in the private antechamber of the medical class- 
room, at four o’clock P. M., on Friday, the 2Tth instant—there to 
await till I introduce you to the rose chamber. 
1 am, sir, respectfully, 
Your obedient servant, 
WILLIAM P. C. BARTON, * 
Dean of the Med. Fac. of Jef. Col." 
After receiving this “summons,” I showed it to my landlady, a 
kind old maiden, a descendant of Benjamin Franklin, and who had 
in her somewhat of the spirit pervading “ Old Richard’s Almanac she read it carefully, and returning it to me with a very serious 
face, she said: “You must not be examined on Friday—it is an 
unlucky day—}Tou will be rejected.” I, however, answered the 
summons, and with four others was in the anteroom on time. 
Before leaving the house for the college, I wras again reminded by 
“ Mother Mecom,” as we called her, that it was Friday. Unfor- 
tunately, too, I had not proceeded far from the steps, before I re- 
turned, having forgotten something. “Another bad omen,” she 
exclaimed ; “ you will certainly be rejected !” I was finally intro- 
duced to the rose chamber, examined, and again returned to the 
antechamber to await the decision of the faculty. In a few moments 
the following note or paper was placed in my hands, superscribed— 
“To Washington L. Atlee, 
(of Lancaster, Penna.) 
Red-Letter Student of Jefferson Medical College, 
Philadelphia.” 
It reads as follows:— 
“Rose Chamber, Jefferson Med. Col., Phila. 
45 minutes 
past 7 o’clock 
P.M. 
j-February 27, 1829. 
Sir: Having satisfactorily passed an examination before the 
professors of this institution met in faculty, you are hereby in- 
formed, that they have decided to recommend you to the trustees as 
qualified to receive the degree of doctor of medicine. This honor 
will be conferred on you at the approaching commencement to be 
held in this city, on which occasion your personal attendance will 
be requisite, in order to receive it. 
The members of the faculty congratulate you, through me, on 
this happy period of your medical education. They urge you to 
continue your exertions for honorable distinction in your profession, 
and tender you their wishes for your health, happiness, and pros- 
perity. 
I am, sir, respectfully, 
Your obedient servant, 
WILLIAM P. C. BARTON, 
Dean of the Med. Fac. of Jef. Med. Col. 
To Washington L. Atlee.” 
I knew nothing of the modus operandi when the candidate was 
rejected. Most likely, when he got his death blow, he was shrouded 
in white, and the dean, who was an officer of the navy, could thus 
unfurl the national colors—red, white, and blue! 
In 1829, during one of the examinations in the rose chamber, an 
incident occurred between McClellan and a private pupil of rather 
a singular character. The dean, having introduced the student, 
asked Dr. McClellan to commence the examination, lie instantly 
replied: “I don’t want to examine Mr. ; I have examined him every day, and am satisfied.” As he then occupied two chairs, 
anatomy and surgery, and examined on both branches, and as h.e 
was known to question very closely, the student was greatly elated 
by this occurrence. He was, however, examined by the other pro- 
fessors in regular order, and congratulating himself on the exami- 
nation having terminated so soon, was about to leave the chamber, 
when unexpectedly McClellan put a question to him. I would pre- 
mise that this occurred just before the inauguration of General 
Jackson to the presidency. The canvass had been between John 
Quincy Adams and General Jackson. McClellan strongly advo- 
cated the latter, and his pupil, although he had no vote, the former. 
McClellan, who was remarkably fond of horses and dogs, had his 
favorite dog with him in the rose chamber, lying at his feet. Ques- 
tion : “ What is General Jackson’s heart made of?” Ileply: “It 
is composed precisely of the same material as that of your dog.” 
This roused McClellan, and it was followed by a most scoring 
examination, which terminated by his exclaiming that “ he had 
never stumped Mr. but once, and that was on the pulse.” 
Eberle jumped up and maintained that Mr. • was right, and 
McClellan wrong; and this was followed by each member of the 
faculty affirming Mr. ’s position. The allusion to the pulse 
arose from this circumstance: Early in the session, during a lec- 
ture on the pulse by McClellan, he stated that the beat of the 
pulse was synchronous over the whole body. Mr. thought 
this was opposed to the laws of hydraulics, and was determined to 
test it. As soon as he returned to his boarding-house, he examined 
his own circulation and that of each of his room-mates, and was 
fully satisfied that the beat was consecutive, in accordance with 
the distance from the heart. On making his usual visit in the 
evening to McClellan’s quiz, Mr. told him that he was 
wrong about the pulse. He laughingly retorted : “Oh! 3rour cir- 
culation is not made right; you are a lusus naturae.” 
In the earliest days of Jefferson College, practical anatomy was 
taught in a different way from what it is now. There was no 
special demonstrator. The professor of anatomy was the regular 
superintendent of the dissecting room. The refined, gentlemanly 
Nathan R. Smith, now the venerable and eminent surgeon of Balti- 
more, was then both professor and demonstrator. He was always 
punctually at his post. Well do I remember his tall, erect, and 
slender figure, protected by his neatly fitting silk apron, as he en- 
tered the room and passed from table to table instructing and 
encouraging us in the pursuit of the knowledge of practical anatomy. 
He is the only living representative of the first faculty of Jefferson Medical College. Loved and admired by liis patients and pupils, 
and rich in honors, 
“ Age sits with decent grace upon his visage, 
And worthily becomes his silver locks ; 
He wears the marks of many years well spent, 
Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise experience.” 
If I mistake not, the first demonstrator of anatomy in our Alma 
Mater was Dr. Samuel McClellan, brother of George. His appoint- 
ment probably arose from the fact that Professor Smith had been 
transferred to the University of Maryland, and that Professor 
McClellan, having to fill two chairs—surgery and anatomy—claimed 
the assistance of his brother to attend to the duties of the dissecting 
room. In connection with practical anatomy Dr. Samuel gave a 
course of “ Recapitulations and Lectures on Surgical Anatomy” 
during the winter of 1828-1829. 
There was something very remarkable between these two brothers. 
The same material when cast in the same mould is expected to 
produce the same results, or at least figures resembling each other. 
And yet, in the language of Mrs. Hemans, notwithstanding 
“ The same fond mother bent at night 
O’er each fair sleeping brow,” 
they were as unlike in mind and body as day is from night, or 
as the lion is from the lamb! Brothers! one was Jupiter Tonans 
riding on the whirlwind ; the other gentle Zephyrus basking in the 
sunshine! 
Gentlemen, before concluding these reminiscences, I will notice 
another member of the faculty, who must have been omitted in- 
advertently by the President in his inaugural address to this 
association; I allude to Professor John Barnes. He occupied the 
chair of midwifery in 182G-27. I wish to refer to him for two 
reasons: one is, that through him, Jefferson College was the 
earliest institution, or one of the earliest, to throw out its warning 
voice against the abortionist. While lecturing on abortion, I shall 
never forget writh what emphasis he said: “ Gentlemen, let me 
conjure you, by all that is sacred, never to let }rour conscience 
sanction, or 3’our affections or your pockets induce you to do, an 
act so utterly opposed to the pure principles of our profession, and 
criminal under the laws of God and man.” I am proud to say 
this night that this old text of Jefferson has been the polar star of 
my life in some very trying situations. Another reason for refer- 
ring to Barnes is that he proved himself a prophet. At the con- 
clusion of his course, he addressed the members of his class, and used these memorable words: “ I cannot feel too great an obliga- 
tion to every gentleman who has patronized this new institution for 
the danger he subjected himself to in doing so—for, if it had failed, 
you would have lost your diploma, and at the same time endangered 
your fortune and reputation. But there can be no doubt that it 
will triumph over all difficulties, and attain to a great reputation !” 
Thank Heaven ! the prophecy has been fulfilled ! 
There was another member of the college unnoticed in the in- 
augural address. He was not a member of the faculty, nor of the 
Board of Trustees, nor was he enrolled among the lists of the 
students. He stuck to “Jeff” through thick and thin, through 
adversity and prosperity, in peace and in war, in season and out 
of season. If I mistake not lie was present at its birth, and until 
recently has been the watchful sentinel at the door ever since. 
During his long and successful career, revolution after revolution 
has occurred in the organization of the faculty, and he has been 
the constant mourner at the grave of professor after professor for 
many long years. Thousands upon thousands of delighted gra- 
duates have received their parting box from his hands, and 
they hold him in grateful remembrance. “ Well done, thou good 
and faithful servant,” may justly be inscribed on the tomb of 
Wattson, tfie old Janitor. “ Iiequiescat in pace.” 
I have thus given you some of the reminiscences of the earliest 
days of Jefferson Medical College. The retrospect has been hasty 
and therefore imperfect. Computing time by annual returns, or by 
the anniversaries of human existence, a long interval interposes 
between that day and this. Two generations, at least, have come 
and gone; and with them revolutions in physics, in science, and 
in art have taken place in this wonderful period of the nineteenth 
century. The railroad, the locomotive, and the palace car have 
superseded the turnpike, the horse, and the stage-coach; photo- 
graphy seizes the shadows as they fly; the telegraph has annihi- 
lated space, and brought the nations of the world into neighborly 
proximity; in all branches of mechanics machinery has taken the 
place of handicraft; and in all occupations of life brain work 
has greatly contributed to the diminution of manual labor. No 
less astonishing are the discoveries and advances in medicine! 
Pathology, physiology, psychology, gynaecology, histology, diag- 
nosis, and therapeutics are almost new studies. The exploration 
of different important organs of the body by means of appropriate 
specula and other appliances, and the. division of professional 
study and labor into distinct branches and specialties, are mainly the growth of this period. Indeed, medicine and the collateral 
sciences have been making great and rapid strides ! 
Medical teaching should keep pace with the progress of medical 
science. Does it do so? Do the medical colleges of this country, 
with the present mode of didactic instruction, keep up with the 
requirements of this advancing age ? Can they, under their present 
organization, which dates back for half a century, be expected to 
meet the wants of the profession ? The instruction, which is de- 
manded to-day, cannot be properly rendered under conditions only 
suitable fifty years ago. This ver}r building, appropriate as it was 
at the time of its erection for the medical education of that period, 
is not adapted to the present state of things. There must be a new 
.edifice, so constructed that the student may not only be a hearer, 
but an assistant, a worker. There must also be an hospital attach- 
ment, so that he may not only attend clinical lectures, but learn to 
diagnose, prescribe, and treat diseases, and practice minor surgery. 
Indeed, a system of apprenticeship should be instituted in medical 
education as in mechanical pursuits, that would render the medical 
student, b}r the time he graduates, as familiar with his duties and 
his appliances, and as capable of employing his hands and his instru- 
ments, as the young mechanic who has just cancelled his inden- 
tures. Then the new graduate would pass from the college at 
once a trustworthy practitioner. 
The semi-centenary birthday of Jefferson College is fast ap- 
proaching. By a singular coincidence its anniversary and that of our 
republic will be celebrated the same 3'ear of 187G. As every 
nation is expected to honor this great country by her contributions, 
so let every alumnus do homage to his Alma Mater. At this im- 
portant crisis of her existence we must not abandon her. We, her 
children, should repay the great debt we owe to her for her ma- 
ternal care and guidance, and now when the old coach is going 
over, let us, like McClellan, when upset in the highway, put our 
shoulders to the wheel, and call others to our aid, until we place 
our noble institution in the attitude of her ablest compeer. Surely, 
she has been weighed in the balance and not found wanting! but 
gentlemen, let us see to it that the string of the beam shall never 
break !