VALEDICTORY ADDRESS 
TO THE 
CLASS OF GRADUATES 
OF THE 
MISSOURI MEDICAL COLLEGE, 
AT THE 
ANNUAL COMMENCEMENT, HELD MARCH 6th, 1 872. 
BY 
R. S. ANDERSON, M.D., 
PROFESSOR OF GENERAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ANATOMY. 
PUBLISHED BY THE CLASS. 
ST. LOUIS: 
MISSOURI DEMOCRAT BOOK AND JOB PRINTING HOUSE 
18 7 2. VALEDICTORY ADDRESS 
TO THE 
CLASS OF GRADUATES 
OF THE 
MISSOURI MEDICAL COLLEGE, 
AT THE 
ANNUAL COMMENCEMENT, HELD MARCH 6th, 1 872. 
BY 
R. S. ANDERSON, M.D., 
PROFESSOR OF GENERAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ANATOMY. 
PUBLISHED BY THE CLASS. 
MISSOURI DEMOCRAT BOOK AND JOB PRINTING HOUSE 
ST. LOUIS: 
1872. CORRESPONDENCE. 
Missouri Medical College, Feb. 27, 1872. 
Prof. R. S. Anderson: 
Dear Sir—At a meeting held this day by the Graduating Class of the 
Missouri Medical College, it was 
Resolved, That a committee of three be appointed to wait upon Prof. 
Anderson and request a copy of his Valedictory Address for publication. 
C. R. Woodson, President. 
R. E. Beach, Secretary. 
We, the undersigned Committee, appointed by the President, respect- 
fully submit the above resolution to your consideration, and trust that 
it will meet with your approbation. 
EVAN THOMAS, 
FRED. B. McGUFFEY, 
L. P. STOOKEY. 
E. BATES FRAYSER, Treasurer. 
St. Louis, Feb. 28, 1872. 
Gentlemen: 
In response to your request, 1 herewith transmit to you the Address. 
Thanking you for the compliment, I remain, 
Very truly, 
Your friend, 
R. S. ANDERSON. 
Messrs. Evan Thomas, Fred. B. McGuffey, L. P. Stookey, and E 
Bates Frayser. ADDRESS. 
Gentlemen Graduates : 
It is with pleasure that I this evening assume the task of 
expressing to you the parting words which are to close our con- 
nection as Faculty and students. Hereafter we become pro- 
fessional brothers, equals in the prosecution of the glorious 
science which we have each adopted. But you must always 
remain to us somewhat nearer and dearer than those upon 
whom sister colleges have conferred the same degree. For 
months we have labored to impress upon your minds the guid- 
ing truths which are to form the basis of your future efforts, 
and this long and intimate intercourse has engendered within 
us a warmer, nearer feeling of friendship and interest than we 
can bestow upon the offspring of other institutions, however 
worthy. Heretofore you have been students, trained, in some 
degree, for the scenes which await you, but now you become 
soldiers in the ranks, sharers in the labors which follow, and 
partakers in the rewards which are reaped. 
This day is a crisis, an event in your lives. Though closing 
successfully months of tedious, toilsome labor, though opening 
to you a vast field of usefulness in the sphere you have chosen, it 
nevertheless presents its sad as well as its joyous aspects. It 
is sad in its elements of parting, in the rupture of ties most 
strongly wrought, sad in the awful responsibilities which we 
each this night assume—you as the guardians of the lives and 
health of men, we as the vouchers to society for your fitness. 
But it is joyous in the happy termination of an arduous test, in 
the opening of a larger and wider career, in the smiles of pres- 
ent friends, and in the brightly gilded hopes that beckon you to 
the future. 6 
Standing as you now do upon the threshold of the new 
domain which you are to enter and possess, let us ascend an 
imaginary eminence, and view with the mental eye the prom- 
ised land. What are the nature and objects of the calling which 
you have this night assumed ? what its relations in the mechan- 
ism of society? What are the duties which now devolve upon 
you? What are the means at hand for the accomplishment of 
your designs, and what the dangers to be encountered and the 
rewards to be expected? 
Our science is as old as the fall of man, coeval with the min- 
istry, both springing from a common cause, and both anciently 
going hand in hand. Its responsibilities are the greatest, its 
trusts the highest and most sacred, its ends the noblest and 
most dignified, of any that pertain merely to this life. Into its 
hands are given the most vital interests of humanity, the pre- 
servation of human life, with all the vast contingencies which 
this involves. To it is confided the combat with the ills that 
flesh is heir to. To its charge is given the welfare of commu- 
nities—sometimes the safety of States. To it equally appeal the 
prince, who is “born in the purple, and heir to the sceptre and 
crown,” and the beggar at his gates, who nurses his sores in the 
sun. To it the mother, with unquestioning faith, confides the 
dearest treasure of her life, the feeble babe, who with helpless 
hands implores of you rescue from the unknown beyond. To 
it the husband, the father, appeals on behalf of the idols of the 
household. It presides, with its saving arts, at the threshold of 
life; it also smoothes with gentle hand the inevitable passage 
to the grave. What, then, should be its place in the estimation 
of the community, what its rank in the organization of society? 
We answer proudly that as, excepting the divine calling, its 
objects are the highest and most holy, its trusts the grandest 
and most sacred, the talents required in its service the loftiest 
and most cultivated, so its rank should be the highest, its 
rewards the greatest, and its honors the most of any. 
Gentlemen, your lines have fallen in pleasant places, and you 
have a goodly heritage. To you the science and art of medicine 
opens the vast storehouse of its accumulated wealth, garnered 
in the passage of ages. These treasures, containing the recorded 
experience of two thousand years, are legacies left to you, and 
to the world through you, by those who have labored and gone 7 
before. They give freely of their knowledge, often gained at 
the cost of lives of toil and thought, often of health and life 
itself. They ask nothing in return but the honor of having 
served humanity. They place your beginning at their ending, 
and in the richer, brighter light of this latter day, they bid you 
God-speed in your progress onward. Take heed that you do not 
squander this inheritance. If it is not in its fullness, according 
to j'Our several abilities, applied for the good of those com- 
mitted to your care, you are dishonest stewards; nay, almost 
criminal defaulters. If the tradesman is guilty who palms 
inferior wares upon his customers, how much more so is 
the physician who trifles in ignorance with the dearest inter- 
ests of life itself, and does not furnish the best article of sci- 
ence which circumstances and the advanced state of knowledge 
will permit. 
Our science is necessarily progressive, and each successive 
year, each higher thought, each further discovery, brings it 
nearer to its “ utmost goal and final resting-place ”—the perfec- 
tion of exactitude. Already some of its component parts— 
Anatomy, Chemistry, and we might say Physiology—have 
almost attained this consummation, but in the others the ulti- 
mate truth still “lies at the bottom of the well.” To some of 
you fate may have reserved the genius, the industry, the fortune, 
like another Newton, Lavoisier or Schwann, to furnish to each 
of these its primitive fact, and to stamp upon the embodied 
whole the precision and completeness of perfection ! Such glory 
for some is pregnant in the womb of the immediate future. 
For the signs of the times point to grand advances, and coming 
events are casting their shadows before. The startling discov- 
eries lately made in the collateral physical sciences, the rapid 
improvement and perfection of our means of observation, the 
vast army of enthusiastic scientists wrho are now eagerly 
pressing forward, all portend the glorious future. The rays 
of the dawning day are breaking over the hill-tops. Now, 
u better far a year in Europe than a cycle in Cathay. ” In 
this progress, you are elements; therefore, be not idle. To 
stand still is to fall behind. To lag in the race is to court 
the fate of the unprofitable servant, to incur the disgrace of 
the buried talents. 8 
“ Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back. 
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion— 
A great-sized monster of ingratitude. 
These scraps are good deeds past, which are devoured 
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 
As done. Perseverance, dear my lord, 
Keeps honor bright. To have done is to hang 
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail, 
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way, 
For honor travels in a strait so narrow, 
That one but goes abreast. Keep, then, the path, 
For emulation hath a thousand sons, 
That one by one pursue. If you give way, 
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, 
Like to an entered tide they all rush by, 
And leave you hindermost. ’ ’ 
As is the telegraph to the post-horse, or the locomotive to 
the coach, so are the present appliances of our era of science 
to those of our fathers. Our microscope shows hidden worlds 
by them undreamed of. By its marvellous power we may 
observe and study the most secret, intricate processes and 
forms of life. To our skilled ears, through the stethoscope and 
pleximeter, the cavity of the chest gives up in music its most 
subtile secrets. By means of other apparatus for the extension 
of our senses, various cavities, organs and recesses of the body 
are open to our inspection and to our skill, which were but a 
few years since as hidden as the secrets of the Catacombs. By 
our test-tubes and reagents the slightest changes in the rela- 
tions of the constituents of the body may be detected, and by 
our improved therapeutics relieved. By our greater knowledge 
of anatomical forms and physiological processes, almost every 
organic function has been traced to its ultimate physical origin. 
Nay, even the mysterious essence of life itself—the “vital 
force” which moves this wondrous organism — has, by the 
genius of one of our own number — now, alas! not with us — 
been removed from its solitary, anomalous pedestal, and demon- 
strated to be in harmony with and a part of the universal laws 
that govern matter. 
What a debt does humanity already owe to the healing art! 
It is not to be computed in figures, it cannot be expressed in 
words. How many millions of years have been added to the 
sum of human life, and what vast advantages have accrued as 
the resultant of these years! The mind stands bewildered at 9 
the magnitude of the problem. Should the influences for good 
generated by our labors, with all their relations to. the arts, 
sciences, and the progress of nations, be suddenly blotted out, a 
pandemonium would ensue to which chaos would be a paradise 
More lives are saved yearly in Europe alone by Jenner’s immor- 
tal discovery than have been lost in a century’s bloody wars. 
And even war itself, the dread result of the frenzy of nations, 
has by the beneficent influence of our art been robbed of half 
its fearful terrors. The hospital, the ambulance, the knife, the 
ligature and the splint, with their anaesthetic allies, are now as 
essential to the welfare of armies as the skill of generals or the 
efficiency of arms. In the quiet walks of ordinary life the influ- 
ences of the medical art are all-pervading, and here perform 
their chiefest, noblest work. Quinine renders habitable whole 
districts where, without it, the foot of man could not in safety 
tread. Over the greatest of physical evils, in whose presence 
both the strong and the weak, both man and beast, alike cower 
and shrink — over pain— our science has achieved a series of 
brilliant, unequivocal victories; for it is the pain and suffering 
of illness and dissolution that are more dreaded by our coward, 
shrinking natures than the hereafter that may come when we 
have ‘‘shuffled off this mortal coil.” Morphine, Ether, Chloro- 
form, Chloral— Lethean waters for physical woes — who can 
estimate the world of agony they have prevented and relieved ? 
Over this inveterate foe we have almost an absolute dominion. 
We can now make comfortable the tedious, lingering hours of 
illness, and, if necessary, even provide 
‘ ‘ The smooth descent, the gentler way 
To mingle kindly with our fellow-clay. ’ ’ 
The general field of therapeutics offers no less convincing, 
though perhaps less striking, facts. The wonderful progress 
lately made in Materia Medica and Pharmacy are bearing rich 
fruits. No longer are our patients drenched with nauseous, 
inefficient draughts, or choked wfith unwieldy boluses. The 
greater elegance in which our remedies now appear is only 
surpassed by the greater efficiency with which they act. We 
hear no more of the ague extending for ten, thirty or forty 
years. Under late treatment the inveterate racking rheuma- 
tism assumes a mild and manageable form. Pneumonia and 
typhoid fever, once so fatal, are now rarely so. And consump- 10 
tion, with its protean forms of disaster and death, is frequently 
by skill and care averted; and if not, may often be robbed of its 
most imminent dangers, and the gradual decline made gentle, 
sometimes even pleasant. Scurvy, now so seldom heard of, but 
which a hundred years ago slew yearly its thousands, is now 
by simple means become so rare that probably none of you have 
ever seen it. To those holding “the vile heritage of the sins 
they have not sinned,” and to those who by transgression have 
come under the ban, our science comes in the garb of a 
Savior, and says through its remedies: “Son, daughter, arise.” 
The same wisdom which has given the law and enforced 
the penalty has confided to our science, under Him, the 
pardon. How rash, how short-sighted are those who, in their 
little hour, would limit by their narrow minds the provisions 
of Divine mercy or prescribe the extent of His love! All 
diseases, all suffering, sorrow and pain, are equally penalties 
inflicted for the violation of nature’s laws. And nature’s laws 
are God’s. As well might we loosen the reins that hold in check 
the small-pox; as well might the filthy, undrained streets and 
pools cry out to heaven for cholera; as well might the cut artery 
be allowed to drain the rich life-blood, as that any remedy 
should be permitted to fail of its heaven-born power, or any of 
God’s creatures be left to unnecessary suffering. 
Time would fail me to enter at greater length into the gene- 
ral subject, or to particularize further the blessings conferred 
on humanity by the development of special branches of our 
art. Suffice it to say that by the skill and appliances of the 
ophthalmologist, the aurist, the laryngoscopist, the orthopedist 
and the gynechologist, thousands now see and hear and walk, 
who fifty years ago would have been condemned to pitiful lives 
of misery, suffering and exclusion. In prophylaxis and hygiene, 
in the discovery and application of those general laws which 
have contributed so much to the happiness of communities and 
nations, in ventilation and drainage, in the erection and support 
of hospitals and asylums, in the science of dietetics and the 
non-medical management of the sick, our profession has alwaj’s 
taken the lead and performed the chief labor. All these means 
have lengthened the scale of the probabilities of human life 33 
per cent, over that of a century ago. In surgery the saving of 
life exceeds by 35 per cent, the results at the beginning of this 
century. According to Macaulay, the difference in the health 11 
of London in the nineteenth and in the seventeenth centuries 
is as great as the difference now between London in ordinary 
years and London in the cholera. Statistics show not only this, 
but that the duration of sickness, and consequently of pain and 
suffering, has been diminished fully one-third. What may be 
the sum of the lesser, the more individual benefits which medi- 
cine has conferred on man cannot'be known to us, but are 
known and recorded by Him who notes the fall of a sparrow 
and numbers the hairs of our heads. 
In view, gentlemen, of the vast responsibilities which you 
this night assume, in view of the decisive, the final step which 
you are now taking, it is meet that you should pause and weigh 
well the significance of the circumstances which now surround 
you. To dedicate the labors of a life, to pledge all your ener- 
gies and talents to a single purpose, is a grave, a serious under- 
taking. Unless with unflinching zeal and steadfast purpose you 
accept all the contingencies, all the trials now before you; if 
you are merely trying an experiment, to be abandoned if succes8 
is not immediate and brilliant; if your object is to find a level, 
flowery path to success and fortune, I now solemnly warn you 
from the endeavor. Lose no more time in the useless, thank- 
less task. It has been said that “not every ship that sails from 
Tarshish comes back laden with the gold of Ophir.” The way 
is long and weary, the dangers many and great; there are 
breakers, storms, and darkness. Science is a hard mistress, 
and exacts from her worshippers nothing less than their 
entire devotion. She will take no dilatory service, but bestows 
her favors only upon those who court her with undivided 
heart. Fortune is not so blind as she is painted, and, in the 
eternal fitness of things, success is measured by the toil that 
brings it — 
‘ ‘Men at some times are masters of their fates; 
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
But in ourselves, that we are underlings. ’ ’ 
Unskillful hands and idle brains but clog the passages. The 
unconquerable enthusiasm of youth has achieved greater tri- 
umphs than even the calm reason of maturer age. 
The early experience of most of you will bo very trying. The 
service is hard, the delays tedious and discouraging. The 
neglect of friends upon whom you have counted will be very 12 
galling; the errors necessary to inexperience will be dishearten- 
ing. You may not meet with help, encouragement and sym- 
pathy where you should most expect it, among the older 
practitioners of your art. But your zeal for science and your 
love for humanity will atone for all. Despise not these days of 
little things; they should be golden, fruitful days—days in which 
you will lay up treasures of thought, research and observation, 
which in after-limes will bring you much reward. And when 
your hour of success comes, as it will come to all true and 
faithful laborers, it is but the commencement of a harder, a 
more laborious service. Others have set times of ease, their 
seventh days of rest, their relaxation from toils and cares. But 
the busy doctor can count no moment absolutely his own. In 
the busy, bustling day, as well as in the still watches of the 
night, in the sunshine and the rain, “ in the peltings of the 
pitiless storm,” he must be ready for his errand of mercy. 
“ When the blessed seals that close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke;” 
when men’s hearts fail within them, and it is not only their 
right but their duty to flee from the danger “ that walketh in 
darkness and the destruction that wasteth at noonday,” then 
must he be always at his post, with skill and courage, brain and 
nerve, to do and dare, and die if need be, for the welfare of 
society, in the service of humanity and for the charge committed 
to his care. It is then that his ministrations are most needed, 
his office most sacred. It is then that he plants the flowers of 
mercy on the graves of buried hopes. It is then that his calm 
bearing brings courage to the sinking heart, that his presence 
and skill give hope to the despairing soul. Yours is the part 
of danger in the battle and at the fireside, and your lives will 
average shorter than those of any other class who enjoy the 
immunities of civilized life. 
The mental anxiety for the welfare of your patients which, if 
you are conscientious, must necessarily cloud many hours in 
your lives, will be a no small item in the sum of your cares. 
These are the shadows which will strike more terror to your 
souls than more substantial troubles. How much will they 
underrate your services who will deem them included in the 
visit, the questions, the inspection of the tongue, the feeling of 13 
the pulse, and the prescription. These are but the carrying 
out of the results of many hours of careful study, of patient 
thought, of anxious weighing of symptom and remedy. Most 
of your work will be done in the intervals of your active life, 
in the seeming leisure of your office hours, or in the stillness of 
the night. 
Few of you, gentlemen, will find a royal road to success. 
You must be the architects of your own fortunes. To some, 
doubtless, by reason of personal and social advantages, the 
favor of influential friends, or by a combination of fortuitous 
circumstances, the way may be shorter and easier than to the 
rest. But to the most a long novitiate, a weary waiting 
remains. Do not complain of this; it is as it should be. These 
years of seeming leisure are often precious years to science. It 
is then that the plan is made and the foundation laid which are 
to determine the nature of the superstructure. It is then that 
you should train your minds, your eyes, your hands; then that 
you should thoroughly arm yourselves at all points for the 
arduous and responsible duties that must surely follow. “Nulla 
dies sine linea.” No success can be solid and lasting that is not 
bought by persistent, patient exertion. The grace of personal 
blandishments, the skill in pretense and boasting, the arts of 
the quack and charlatan, may, and often do, seduce the popular 
fancy for a while. But it is the confidence of the community 
in the tried and proved physician, a plant of slower growth, 
that endures. Bather, therefore, seek by patient diligence, in 
season and out of season, by always doing the duty lying next, 
by study and care in the management of the appliances within 
your reach, to acquire the firmly-fixed respect and affection of 
your patients, which neither the clamor of public prejudice, the 
envious detraction of unprincipled rivals, or the unfortunate 
issue of occasional casos, can either affect or disturb. Above 
all things, be honest, just and truthful. The steady common 
sense, the sober second thought of the community seldom errs, 
and generally justly discriminates between the sheen of the 
pure metal and glare and glitter of baser stuff. The highest 
talents, the most cultivated mind, the most elegant address will 
not bring you lasting success if you neglect the plain duties of 
man to man, or swerve from the rules that govern the perfect 
gentleman. Avoid all mystery and pretense. Our profession 
can stand on its own merits, and the tendency of the age is to 14 
the liberalization of science. Let fair truth be your guide, it is 
an attribute of God, as eternal, as infallible as He. 
“As all Nature’s .thousand changes 
But one changeless God proclaim, 
So through Art’s wide kingdom ranges 
One sole meaning still the same; 
This is Truth, eternal reason, 
Which from Beauty takes its dress, 
And serene, through time and season, 
Stands for aye in loveliness.’’ 
Let the sense of’ duty always constrain you. We havo little 
else to live for, for with the happiest the sorrows outnumber 
the joys. Even the “cup of thanksgiving is mingled with 
tears.” But neither pleasure nor sorrow are the objects of our 
lives. It is in the performance of duty that we meet our high- 
est, noblest ends. It is in this that our enjoyments are height- 
ened, our misfortunes solaced; in this that we live for others 
rather than for ourselves, and “leave our footprints on the sands 
of time.” 
To those of you who persevere to the end the recompense is 
not wanting. If our toils are greater than those in other pur- 
suits, if our risks are more hazardous and our trials more 
severe, our rewards are in proportional excess, our wages are 
worth the labor. That “providence that tempers the wind to 
the shorn lamb,” that holds in equal balance the issues of time 
and eternity, metes to us also our just equivalent. There are 
flowers blooming in the way that not only hide the thorns, but 
heal their wounds. The subjective influences of our science are 
ennobling and exalting. He who is bred among the heights 
and depths of Alpine scenery, under clear and cloudless skies, 
in the pure atmosphere of the mountains and valleys, becomes 
grander in stature and nobler in presence than the denizen of 
the monotonous plain. The inhabitant of the rich tropical 
clime acquires from the brilliant and luxurious vegetation, the 
songs of beautiful birds, and all the treasures of lavish nature 
spread before his sight, a grander, richer language, and a wider, 
nobler range of thought than the torpid dweller in the frigid 
zones. So with us. The mind grows upon what it feeds. The 
constant contemplation of the grandest works of nature, the 
continual search into the most hidden mysteries of life, the 
daily dealing with what is noblest and highest of nature’s works, 15 
generates within us a development of mind, an elevation of 
thought, a latitude of idea which is foreign and impossible to 
the cultivator of meaner pursuits. 
And our objective rewards are not less because less apparent. 
I speak not of the gross material emoluments of our art. There 
is in this regard but little for congratulation. But the con- 
sciousness of being useful to humanity; of doing good in our 
day and generation; of filling a place, however small, in the 
grand economy of nature, which might otherwise be less use- 
fully occupied — these are wages that to the highest minds are 
priceless and unfading. And if any of you should fortunately 
advance in any sensible degree the knowledge of our science or 
the appliances of our art; should any of you burst the lock of 
oblivion that confines a principle that will lessen the load under 
which your fellow-man labors, then to you is reserved a niche 
in the temple of fame; to you an ever-widening influence for 
good will be ascribed, till the roll-call of nations ends the con- 
cerns of time ! 
To the humblest among you there will be, in the practice of 
our profession, many seasons of unalloyed pleasure. The 
respect of men that will always follow honest, manly endeavor, 
the gratitude for services that money cannot repay, the esteem 
of the intelligent and the good, the happy result of painfully 
wrought plans, the solidness and security of final success—these 
will repay you for many a wakeful, anxious night, many a 
day of hardship and toil. 
So, gentlemen, farewell! We send you to your work, and 
send our blessing with you. We will follow your future with 
anxious, trusting hope. Let your Alma Mater be to j7ou a 
Mecca, and we will always welcome your return to her halls. GRADUATING CLASS 
OF THE 
MISSOURI MEDICAL COLLEGE, 
FOR THE SESSION 1871-72. 
Name. State or Country. Subject of Thesis. 
Beach, R. E Illinois Dysentery. 
Blachi.ey, F. C Kansas Scarlatina. 
Blake, T. F Missouri Scarlatina. 
Clay, H. S Missouri Inflammation. 
Cooke, J. T Mississippi... .Variola. 
Curfman, G. W Iowa The Hand. 
Day, Cyrus England Inflammation. 
Frayser, E. Bates Missouri Primary Syphilis. 
Gristy, J. C Iowa Mechanism of Labor. 
Hartman, M. T Missouri Pieuritis. 
Hatton, John Missouri Infection. 
Kline, Wm. J Missouri Pneumonitis. 
Latimer, M. A Iowa Diphtheria. 
Miller, E. H Missouri Phthisis Pulmonalis. 
McGuffey, F. B Ohio Tefanus. 
Moore, F. H Missouri Diagnosis. 
Nichols, P. G Missouri 
Parrish, J. G Virginia.. The Thermometer. 
Thos. Peevy Missouri 
Sanford, F. D Iowa Dislocation of the Scapula. 
Sekber, C. W Missouri Erysipelas. 
Selman, B. G Texas The function of the human Spleen 
Stookey, L. P Illinois. Duration of Pregnancy. 
Stuart, Oren Iowa Dyspepsia. 
Thomas. Evan England Hydrophobia. 
Thorn, J. C Illinois Primary Syphilis. 
Turner, W. A Kansas Phthisis Pulmonalis. 
Wilson. J. B Iowa Hysteria. 
Woodson, C. R Missouri Scarlatina. 17 
AD EUNDEM DEGREE. 
Geo. W. Broome, M.D ....IMlssouri. 
Wm. J. Campbell, M.D Illinois. 
J. W. Carlton, M.D Illinois. 
M. D. Clark, M.D Illinois. 
Jas. W. Duncan, M.D Illinois. 
J. W. Eaton, M.D Missouri. 
B. W. Forsee, M.D Illinois. 
John Maclean, M.D Illinois. 
S. F. Sanders, M.D Illinois. 
Geo. W. Wright, M.D.. Illinois. 
W. T. Wright, M.D Illinois. 
HONORARY DEGREE. 
Ed. Montgomery, M.D St. Louis 
Prof. Gustav. Heinrich, M.D Iowa. 
Jno. F. Sandford, M.D Iowa.