sfcap
r     .-   VALEDICTORY ADD8ESS
DELIVERED TO THE
GRADUATING  CLASS
OF THE
MMMptMr §j}eilial Mhp
OF PENNSYLVANIA,
<rr

rj
FIFTEENTH ANNUAL COMMENCEMENT,
MARCH 3d, 1863
J
     SILAS S. BROOKS, M.D.,
PROFESSOR OP HOMCF.OPATHIC INSTITUTES AND PRACTICE OP MEDICINE.
        PHILADELPHIA:
gl^YSOJf, (PipfTTEIt, 2 JtfOIfZH SIXTH STREET.

               1863, 
 
VALEDICTORY  ADDRESS.
gentlemen  of the GRADUATING  CLASS—
      By the partiality  of  my colleagues,  I am  placed in the
honored position that requires me  to address you  on this inter-
esting and happy occasion.
  More than fifteen years  ago, the homoeopathic physicians of
this city established the Homoeopathic Medical College of Penn-
sylvania in Philadelphia, which institution has since been  sanc-
tioned by the same class of physicians throughout the country,
or even the whole world.  Upon its professors devolves the im-
portant and responsible duty of teaching,  a knowledge of all the
branches usually taught in other medical colleges; and  also the
high  and delicate  office of judging of the qualifications of the
candidates who desire to enter the medical profession.
   To this period of time, you  have been steadily and patiently
performing  your duty us Students; receiving at the hands  of
your teachers, " precept upon precept, line upon line," here much
and there much.  You have also  seen much  and done  much in
the offices of your preceptors, in the hospitals, in  the dispensary,
and at the clinics;  in the dissecting rooms, and the lecture rooms;
among the "sick, the  dying, and the dead;"  in all of which posi-
tions ^you  have applied yourselves nobly  and  faithfully; and
 many of you for a longer period than the three years stipulated
 by the rules of the colleges.  So  that in professional matters,—
 that is, in all  the  branches of medical  knowledge,  especially in
 the science and  art- of distinguishing  and jndiciously treating
 disease, and in the science  and art of Surgery and  Obstetrics,—
 we do not send you forth as novices, but as learned and experi-
 enced  men.
   Of this fact we can knowingly testify, for we have  not only
 witnessed your labors, but each and all of you have submitted
              3 
4
yourselves to the necessary, scrutinizing examinations, which the
laws impose upon candidates for the profession.   And by these
examinations you have proved your proficiency,  and worthiness
of a place and rank on a level with the best physicians and sur-
geons of the whole country.
  Therefore, we are most happy to announce to the thousands of
our brethren of the profession, who have placed us in the position
of judges, that you are now their equals in medical lore; and
most  deservedly worthy of their confidence, esteem  and  friend-
ship.
  And on behalf of the great Profession of Medicine, we cordially
extend to you  "the right-hand of fellowship ;" and heartily, joy-
fully, receive you as brothers and co-laborers in the vast field of
medical science and art.
  On behalf of my colleagues and self, it  now becomes  my duty
to express to you our  sincere,  parting counsel, and our anxious
and ardent blessing.
  But a few, very few short moments remain ere we part,—we
part!  some of us perhaps forever,—forever!  Hence the  feeling
of sadness that comes like shadows over the mind, and makes the
present a solemn,  as  well as  a happy occasion.  And it is but
natural, and right, that the feelings of anxiety which dwell in the
breasts  of your teachers,—feelings, in their nature  and extent,
like those of a fond parent,—should seek to find vent  in the form
of Counsel and Blessing.
  We have all travelled over the ground  you are about to tread
in the future, or occupied the positions you are about to occupy,
and consequently know the trials and temptations to which you
will be exposed; and to some extent, at least, we know the happy
accomplishment of  the objects of  our professional labors—the
crown of success.   This crown of success we crave,  ardently
crave, for each and every one of you.
   We know the deep, the almost intense exercise, to  which your
minds will  be  subjected  during  the  treatment of your first
patients:  which thoughtful   solicitude  will not be  for your
patients only,  but  for  yourselves,  and that of your profession 
5
also.  As you  can now see, and then fully  comprehend, that
with the treatment of every patient, your own reputation, and
that of your profession will be at stake.   Sometimes, in the early
career of a conscientious physician, he is so tried with this kind
of solicitude that he is frequently tempted to return to his patient
and alter the prescription.  And I know one who felt the respon-
sibility  so heavily that  he relinquished practice.  But as every
position in life is attended by trials, perhaps wisdom would have
required him to have persevered and thereby conquered all obstacles.
   Besides this,  and other  internal trials, we know  some of the
external difficulties of a beginner.  We know  the scrutinizing
gaze of the people in the different communities in which you will
be placed.   We know the  slanderous words that will be uttered
against  you, by  your  opponents of the old school, their partisans,
and others.  Also, the wrong and  mischievous interpretations
that will be put upon many of your words and actions, by preju-
dice,  envy,  or  malice.  We know,  too,  the cruel imputation of
improper or selfish motives that will be said to have governed
your actions in certain cases.
   A knowledge of most, or all of these,  will come to your ears;
and you must  not let them disturb your equanimity or peace of
mind in the least, but pass on, right on, in the path of conscious
rectitude.  Do  good in your turn, and nothing but good, remem-
bering Him,  who,  "when he was reviled,  reviled not again." So
will you, in due time, have the inestimable satisfaction  of seeing
all these shafts  of envy, hatred, jealousy  and  malice,  fall harm-
lessly at your feet.
   We know that  many times the want  of confidence,  or other
influences, will cause your patients to disobey your orders, or set
aside your counsels,  and  the  trials  of your temper on these ac-
counts.   Yet here, too, you must remain calm, and do, or say
nothing but good; remembering that, generally, the mind of the
patient  partakes of the same diseased action as that of the body,
causing him to do  or say what  he would not do  or  say  when in
health; also, that  the minds of  the  friends of the patient are
tried  with anxiety, fear, and doubt at the moment of suffering, 
                              6

 and that  they, too,  may  share  in weakness of mind  with  the
 patient, and thus cause them to say or do things, for which they
 would be sorry in their calmer moments.
   Sometimes these friends of the patient will be your  real ene-
 mies, harder to be conquered  than  the  disease of the patient.
 But it should  be your  noble object to conquer even  them, by
 rectitude and kindness, and by these alone.
   We know the often unjust sneers of many worthy matrons, or
 others, who will talk and laugh among themselves about what
 they may suppose your verdancy or awkwardness, in  some matters
 of practice; because you may not do certain things, or carry out
 certain unimportant minutia, just precisely in the way they have
 been accustomed  to see the older physicians do them.  Though
 yours  may be  the  best  way, they will  be apt to set it down
 to you as ignorance from inexperience;  and some will blame,
 while others will excuse you.  Of one thing, however, you may be
 certain—that in the conclave you will have some real f. iends, who
 will nobly contend  for,  and strive to bless you;  provided,  of
 course, you have  always striven to do well your part.
   Many people are apt to  think that the practice of medicine is
 a fixed unalterable science or art; therefore, that the young phy-
 sician must do everything in  the "good old way."  But the  in-
 telligent  and thinking know  that  improvements are constantly
 being made in  the profession,  and that  the  student will  most
 likely acquire a knowledge of,  and adopt these improvements;
 hence,  in  many things he may, with  advantage, differ  from his
 predecessors.
  Knowing all 'these, and many more of the annoying, vexing,
 provoking, trying, and even painful ordeals through which you,
 like  all others who commence  the practice of medicine,  must
 pass, we are prepared to sympathize most  heartily, and to extend
 the hand  of encouragement: for you, as well as others, can easily
 surmount them  all;  and they may prove useful chastenings, so as
 to refine, and perfect you for future usefulness.  Therefore, prepare
your minds to  meet  them; to meet  them cheerfully, fearlessly,
patiently,  and  thankfully.  Yes, thankfully ! for, remembering 
7
the old  maxims that "there are no roses without thorns," "no
gains without pains," and " no cross, no crown;" you will be sus-
tained, and enabled to bear all trials.
  Especially can you afford to bear these trials; for, in addition
to the usual resources of the old school, or irregular practitioners,
your minds will derive great  satisfaction and comfort in the con-
sciousness, that you have  at your command the best,  the very
best, known means of combatting disease in  every form.
   Permit me to say a few words upon your present position, which
it is  necessary you should fully appreciate.   Even  now the  re-
sponsibility rests heavily upon you.  Every step  taken now has
an immense influence upon the future; not only upon yourselves,
but  upon  the  profession  of your choice, and even  the  world
itself;  for, like other mortals, you are integral parts  of the world,
and  have influence on those around you, for which you will be
accountable, either in this world or the next.
   Wesley said,  " I reverence  a young  man, because he will live
and  act when I am dead."
   Your future position it is which now surrounds you with  all-
absorbing interest.  It is  mainly this future  position of yours
that gives such great importance  to the present.
   With the mind's eye we can travel into the future, and behold
each one of you happily settled in business,  surrounded by hosts
of friends, whose  confidence you have won by a worthy course
of life;  blessed with  health, and the abundance  of this world's
goods, which such a course is almost sure to reap; blessed in the
bosom  of a lovely family;  moving on, through sunshine  and
shade,  in the even tenor  of your way, honored by all who  hear
or speak of you, until at last you go to reap  in the next world,
the  fruits of a well-spent life in this.
   Now  this is no uncommon result;  no fancy picture of what
 may, and under the blessing of heaven, will be your future posi-
tions in life; if,—if you fully understand the importance of the
present, and pursue the right course from this very stand-poiiit,
onward; with  the goal always in view.
   We are most anxious, gentlemen,—yes, deeply anxious,—that 
8
when you leave this hall, your first steps shall be in that direction
that will ensure your success in life.  We want you to start aright!
to start aright!
   You well know that when two straight lines are drawn from a
given point, and include an acute  angle between them, how far,
how very far, they will diverge when  continued for a long dis-
tance ; and this no matter how small the angle that divides them
in the beginning: the further the lines are continued the further
apart do they  become, until they may be  millions of  miles
asunder.
   Now let me entreat you to consider your present stand-point,
and remember that there is but one straight line, or road to success.
Endeavor to find and travel on this line, direct to the object. If
you take  another line, or road,  or path,  which diverges  in the
least, even the smallest hair's breadth from this  direct  one in the
beginning, it will lead you farther and farther from the desired
point or goal of success, until you lose sight of it entirely, and
are landed in unhappiness, misery and disgrace;  yes, disgrace
deep, irreparable and eternal.
   The study of history,—especially that of the conduct of indi-
viduals,—is universally allowed to be of great use to the young;
and having seen a little of life among physicians, and observed
the courses pursued by many of them, I think I may  profitably
bring into  view some  of the results of my observations in these
matters.
   To accomplish this, and to convey some idea of  both,—the
erroneous and the correct,—courses of medical life, bring to view
the various unhappy ends  of the erroneous, and the happy end
of the correct professional life; and exhibit more clearly the vital
importance of starting  aright in one's professional career,  I will,
though unaccustomed to the work, venture, like old Humphrey,
to become a limner.
   My desire will be  to instruct, though my awkwardness  may
amuse;  and my pictures, or perhaps characatures, which  are drawn
from life,  may incur just and  jeering criticisms.  So  here I am
going to turn painter. 
9
  In my representations of the errors of physicians, I do not
intend  to hold up those  of any particular individual;  and there-
fore I beg that though the coat may fit some of those now living
and practicing, they may not feel I am personal, or in any manner
alluding to them.  The errors of which I am about to speak are
only the rocks upon which others have been ship-wrecked;  and
I wish to point them out, in order  that they may be avoided by
the young.

                    THE PROUD PHYSICIAN.

   A recently graduated, and tolerably-well-educated physician
settled in a  thriving village  of New Jersey.   Being naturally
proud, (though, like every one else, he had  nothing on which to
found  his pride,) and not curbing this, "his easily besetting sin,"
he exhibited an over-weening disposition to  associate with  the
rich, or those whom he viewed as his superiors in social standing;
 and obviously disdained the  company of those  he supposed his
 inferiors.  Bowing,  scraping,  and grinning  to the rich,  fawning
 upon  and flattering  them, while the laboring man and mechanic
 were  met with  a haughty, supercilious mien.   The proud heart
 is generally  extremely  selfish and  unsympathizing  for those who
 suffer; hence his conduct towards some of his patients and their
 friends was   modified by  this condition of his spirit; and it is
 represented  that his demeanor was often such, as to cause one to
 infer that he considered the patient was made for the  doctor,  and
 not the doctor for the benefit of the patient.   A view, by the by,
 which too often seems  apparent in some young physicians, whose
 wealth and family influence has been such as  to  train them to
 think  they may command.
   At a public meeting of the place, he was nominated on a com-
 mittee with  some worthy mechanics;  but declined serving, with
 the remark  that "Ae never associated with  mechanics!"  Foolish
 fellow,—for foolishness generally goes with pride.
    "God resisteth the  proud."   Hence he  has  planted in the
 human breast,  rich as  well as poor, feelings that rise up in  oppo* 
10
 sition to the proud man—especially when he indulges his pride
 to the extent of doing injustice to the interest or feelings of others.
 From that time onward,  the conduct and language of this vain
 man were freely commented  upon and  condemned by  the vil-
 lagers ;  scarcely one of  whom could  speak well of him in any
 way; because this one fault hid, or eclipsed, all the good proper-
 ties he may have possessed.  Instead  of  his being  taken by the
 hand and encouraged in  his vocation,  he was met by coolness of
 manner, and  few employed him.   They paid him  in his  own
 coin, and he was too vain and  foolish to think there was any fault
 in himself; hence he began, after awhile, to think the village was
 "distressingly healthy," and that it was of no use for a talented man
 like him to waste his  time there.   Therefore, taking his faults
 along with him, he migrated to another town, with a determina-
 tion to try again.  But the like failure of success attended him
 from place to  place, wherever he went, until finally he gave up
 the profession in disgust; saying that "the people  couldn't ap-
 preciate, for they wouldn't  try" him.  He at last earned a scanty
 subsistence by serving  as an  under clerk' in a store, where his
 labors were directed by  other minds,  and he  had  nothing to do
 but to SERVE.
   He started  in a wrong  direction;   travelled the  road of the
 proud, and behold where  it landed him!

                  THE  IMPATIENT  PHYSICIAN.   '

   A young, well-educated,  and accomplished physician settled in
 a large town for practice, but was of that temperament which is
 prone to  impatience, irritability, and conceit; and these were his
 failings.
  He succeeded tolerably well in obtaining business, but on ac-
 count of these, his natural temptations, he did not long retain some
 of his patients and friends.   Finally, after a few years of labor,
 with what he viewed as indifferent success, he became dissatisfied,
concluded he  could do  better somewhere  else, and accordingly
left the town to commence anew in another place. 
11
  Unfortunately, he did not leave his besetting temptations behind,
but took them along with him, and as he did not discover these
lurking serpents in the grass, and  destroy or control them, they
asrain occasioned his defeat.  It was a common thing for him to
talk and act as if he knew everything that was worth knowing in
the profession, and that he was almost the only one, in his vicinity
at least, who was so well learned.  Such  thoughts and conduct,
were of course offensive  to his professional brethren, of most of
whom he was wont to speak disparagingly.  Hence they generally
became cool towards him, shunned his society, and almost in self-
defence, had to speak unfavorably of him; until finally he had
but very few friends in the profession.
   This  is an unfortunate position for a young medical man, as
the people often judge of the merits of physicians by the estima-
tion in which they are held by their brethren.  Therefore I exhort
you,  most scrupulously  to  observe  the "golden rule"  towards
every mortal, especially physicians.
   When his patients happened not  to follow his directions ex-
plicitly, he would sometimes fly into a passion, and express his
disapprobation grating or harsh  words;  so that the patient or
friends, would often, not only feel sorry for disobedience, but that
they ever employed him; and when   through with  his services,
the remembrance of his  ungoverned  spit-fire disposition, would
often prevent his being sent for again.  And when, in subsequent
periods, the patient spoke of his former doctor, he would say he
was a very good but a very cross one.
   Thus  this unfortunate man made many enemies among the
people, and in the profession, so as almost to destroy his support
by practice.
   Many times in your lives, reports will reach you  that Dr. So-
and-so,  has said  or done something which had the appearance of
reflecting unfavorably upon you, or your doings; and if you are
afflicted  with an ungoverned, irritable disposition,  you will be
tempted to say something by way of retaliation.  But hold, check
the rising storm, until you can have time to remember the fate of
this unwise man, and consider calmly, whether the  sayings  and 
12
doings of your professional brother were really intended to injure
you ;  whether they were really said or done by him; or whether
there  may not have been  some misunderstanding or misconstruc-
tion ;  which an  interview with him will clear  up,  and make him
your friend forever.   But supposing it  is really  an intended
insult or injury, it will even then be wise to bear it quietly:  for
it  is always  better to "suffer wrong, than to do wrong;"—and
resentment, in any form, is wrong.  Suffering,  under such circum-
stances, often causes the guilty one to see, and to become ashamed
of his error; and  feel greater reproof at witnessing your forti-
tude and humility, than  all the  angry words and actions you
could bring to bear upon him, during a whole lifetime.  Finally,
your enemy will, in due time, turn round and become your true
friend; whereas, if you cultivate in your breast the same  spirit
be entertains towards  you, both will remain enemies forever.

                 THE IMPRUDENT PHYSICIAN.

  I knew an  imprudent physician, into whose character this fail-
ing was so interwoven, that it ran like  a thread through his whole
life.   He  tried  to settle  for  practice in various places, some of
them wide apart, but  no  success attended him anywhere.  His
imprudence was exhibited—First, In a great lack  of diligence in
study and thought; hence his deficient and poorly applied  know-
ledge.   After getting  through college by the  skin of his  teeth,
his leisure hours were  unwisely spent in gossip, gadding about, &c.
Secondly, He permitted himself to be involved in debt, beyond
his ability to pay.   Contracting debts wherever he could for ne-
cessary, and  sometimes for unnecessary articles, when he  knew,
if he would think, he  had no reasonable prospect of paying. At
length his promises became of no value,  and confidence was lost
in his word, not  only in  financial but  in professional matters.
Of course his business was terribly injured, almost destroyed by
this alone.  Thirdly,—In selecting a location  for practice, he was
also  unfortunate in not  selecting one adapted, but this  would
have been corrected had he conducted himself wisely in his loca- 
13
tion, even though it  might have been upon a  rock.  Fourthly,
He made an unwise matrimonial alliance, with a lady and family
whose position  in life was not likely to do him credit; and in
this way he suffered immensely in one of his  locations, almost
blasting his prospects.   And the next most ungrateful as well as
unwise thing,  was for him to become angry with his father for
opposing  such a marriage.  Fifthly, In one of his locations he
killed himself, professionally,  by revealing to his  acquaintances
a knowledge of  the maladies of many of his patients.  Most ex-
ecrable and criminal imprudence!

                  THE  CARELESS  PHYSICIAN.

   In  an insignificant town of a northern state, there happened to
take up his abode a physician of good natural endowments; but
from  an unfortunate error in his education, carelessness and thought-
lessness were permitted to  grow and take permanent  root in his
character.   Hence his mind was undisciplined, and intelligence
limited.   The selection of his residence was left to fortuitous cir-
cumstances, more than to his own  careful  inquiry, observation,
thought and prayer, if indeed he ever prayed.   In person he was
tolerably good looking,  especially when washed  and a little fixed
up.   But generally his  personal exhibited carelessness almost in
the extreme.  Even when  his clothes were new,  they were put on
with a hitch here, or a  misplacement there.  The coat  and vest
colars standing or lying, as it  might happen.  The shirt bosom
was apt to be soiled with various articles, half buttoned or entirely
unbuttoned.   If there was a  shirt-colar, it corresponded with the
bosom, and was  frequently put on in a one-sided  manner, or
standing in various directions.  The hair, teeth,  nails, clothes, hat
and shoes, all attested the  fact, that their owner was seldom guilty
of the use of  brushes.  His  office  was almost  a curiosity shop,
and corresponded in appearance with its occupant.   The furni-
ture, and other not readily recognized articles, were placed around
confusedly,  as if, indeed, there was not " a place for everything,
and everything in its place." The floor was uncarpeted, unwashed, 
14
unswept, dusty or muddy, and soiled with tobacco, strewn with
cigar stumps, loose paper, and  perhaps whitlings,  for he was a
Yankee.   All that represented a library were three or four anti-
quated books, and a few old periodicals.   On the  table lay his
half-opened pocket medicine case, with  a broken clasp; and the
question might be raised whether the most medicine was in, or
outside of the vials ;  some of which were  missing, some unlabelled,
others but half  stopped with broken corks or rolls  of  paper.
Along side,  lay his dingy-looking account book, the interior of
which exhibited many soilings, blots and errors.  Here, too, with
a parcel of door keys and other odd things, were to be seen his
rusty lancet, and key for extracting teeth.   On a shelf could be
discovered his disordered surgical instruments, with loose papers,
candle ends, and a mouse trap.   Beside  the office  medicine  case
stood a wood-chuck trap;  and upon the  case, in close proximity
to the mortar and pestle, lay his hair  brush.  In  the corners of
the  room were to be seen  some machine pulleys, greasy leather
belting,  old boots, a horse-blanket, buffalo robe,  saddle, bridle,
&c:, &c.
  In riding, upon the saddle, he shook  about as  if he would fall
to pieces, tilting forwards and backwards in such a  manner as to
remind one of a boy hoeing potatoes.  In the carriage, he is con-
stantly jerking the reins, chirruping,  or giving trifling blows of
the  whip; to all  of  which his  poor,  ungroomed horse pays no
more heed than to the wind.  His equipage is very much out of
order; the harness stiff, cracked, broken and tied with twine, and
the  carriage full of creaks,  groans, and rattles.   He comes  into
the house with a careless, noisy swing and tread, and slam of the
door, accosting his patient with some coarse, familiar phrase, as,
" Bob, how is you, to-day ?"  Perhaps he has passed a tavern on
the  road, and regaled himself with a glass  and cigar, so that his
breath becomes nauseating by the vile compound; and possibly
the  burning cigar may go into the room of his patient.  Some-
times the sick were forgotten and unvisited, and others visited
unnecessarily.  In his prescriptions,  too, the same carelessness
frequently became obvious, 
15
  To careful, close  reading, study  and meditation,  he was a
stranger;  his leisure hours being generally spent in playing chess,
cards or dice;  smoking with some  congenial spirit,  or  talking
politics in bar rooms, &c.
  This poor fellow  was  never married, but lived  a miserable,
heartless  old bachelor.   They  do  say, however,  that in  his
younger days he was smitten with the charms of a young damsel,
and that she was pleased with him, until one day she asked him
to superscribe a letter.  He did it cheerfully, but in so careless a
manner that she was sorry she asked him;  and concluded that if
he was so slovenly noAV, he would continue incorrigibly so  for
the rest of his life.   Accordingly she discarded him, and  thereby
showed her wisdom.
   Closely allied,  and sometimes following' as an effect, of  the
careless and  thoughtless, will be found the  Intemperate character.
But of this,  alas I you have already witnessed too many examples.
And  I will only say, by way of warning,  never, never indulge
in the first glass of any kind of intoxicating liquors.  For, though
the importunities  of friends,  and the  agreeable  temporary  ex-
hiliration may be strong temptations ;  the secondary effect is
often,  and often, the presence of the shroud and  pall hanging
gloomily over one's  character, health and life.   Eemember these,
and  when tempted, never  treat  the invitation  to  drink with
lightness, but let your refusal be uttered in that deep, benign,
solemon, warning manner, that  shall strike terror, and self re«
proach into  the very heart of the tempter.

                  THE PERFECT PHYSICIAN.

  In a charming valley of the interior of Pennsylvania,  there
lived,  practiced, and died, a physician of most exemplary char-
acter ; and we are told that we should " mark the good man and
do  like him,"  In  person  he was  a noble specimen of God's
handiwork,  such an  one as the most  celebrated artists might well
select  for imitation.  But his physique was only an  emblem of
the perfection of his mental; for he really  seemed perfect in his 
16
mental talents and acquirements, having his mind informed and
trained in literature, medicine, morals and religion.  Before com-
mencing  the study of his profession  all these important subjects
had been so brought to  bear upon his youth, as to give the best
possible impulse  to his intellectual  and moral character during
the remainder of life.
  Having graduated with great credit, he  made  the  best use of
his abilities in the selection of a place for  settlement.  In decid-
ing this important step, prayer, long, ardent,  and sincere, rose
from his pure  heart to the Great Disposer  of all  events, until it
was answered.  He felt  in his heart a full conviction, that it was
the place  for  him.   He did not  say to the  people that he had
come there to try this location,  and that if he did not succeed he
was going to  some other.  But his wisdom became apparent, by
his making the impression which he felt, that this village was to be
his home for life.   One of the effects  of such intelligence was, that
confidence and employment were immediately extended to  him.
Having become fairly settled, promptness, efficiency, and faithful-
ness, became  evident in the discharge of all  duties that were
placed upon  him.  When  not required  to be absent from his
office,  there  was  he to be found; carefully and thoughtfully
devoting his  time to his well-assorted and  large collection  of
books and periodicals.   In  the sick room, he  was all attention,
gentleness and sympathy for the sufferer, and never let anything
divert his attention from the  patient, until the prescription and
all directions were completed.  Always calm, quick to perceive,
ready and  prompt  in affording relief; "cheerful, but not light;
serious, but not sad;" the ease and confidence of his manner,
instilled the same feelings into the minds of his patients and their
friends.   The  rich and the poor alike received the same attention,
and the same deportment.   With all, " the golden rule" appeared
to govereu his thoughts and actions.   Indeed, he  seemed to live
as if he  was  every  moment,  conscious of the  presence  of his
Maker, for whom alone,  and not for himself,  he strove to labor.
  Besides the careful study of the current literature of his pro-
fession, he found  time to look  into the different agricultural and 
17
 mechanical pursuits of those around him.   And many were the
 times, when he had learned something  useful from his journals,
 that he hastened to impart that information  where it was  likely
 to do good.   His agricultural friends received much valuable
 information,  and many samples of fruits, flowers,  seeds,  &c. at
 his hands.  The  mechanic also shared  in the  receipt  of  useful
 knowledge, that he had gleaned from his scientific periodicals.
   The intercourse with his medical brethren, was characterized
 by the same zeal and spirit.   Being fired with a burning wish to
 benefit his patients, and then his profession, he sometimes made
 valuable  discoveries, and speedily conveyed a knowledge of them
 to his brothers, to whom he always,—always, conducted as their
 sincere friend.
   Finally, whether in his library, at the bed side, in social inter-
 course with the people, or his medical brothers; he was constantly
 doing good, for he loved his fellow men;  and loved them the more
 for good  he had done them.  Thus he became a blessing and a
 friend to  all, and all became blessings and friends to him.
   And now,  time  admonishes me to close.   As it is common in
 all nations, at the parting of mutual friends, to invoke upon each
 other what they consider to be the choicest of blessings; so will
 I, on behalf of my colleagues, and for myself, express a wish, one
 heart-felt  wish, our wish,—the best we can conceive, one which, if
 granted, will  make  you happy under any and all circumstances,
 both here and hereafter. Therefore, I will not only say, farewell,—
 but  also,  breathe  the  hope and ardent prayer, that from  this
 moment onward, and forever, you may constantly know or fully
 appreciate, and experience the presence of  God, to be with you,
 in you, guiding and  governing your minds and bodies, in every
 thought, in every word, a"nd in every deed,  until it may please
 Him to take you to himself, in that better home  beyond the
 skies.
   So "shall  ye go out" from us, and dwell in the land, "with
joy,  and be led forth  with peace:  the mountains and the hills
shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the
field shall  clap their hands." 
GRADUATES OF 1863.
  At a Public  Commencement, held in the Musical Fund Hall,
March 3d, 1863, the Degree of the College  was conferred, by
the  Hon. James Pollock, Ex-Governor of Pennsylvania, upon
the  following named gentleman.
NAME.	RESIDENCE.	TITLE OF TH2SIS.	
Boericke, Francis E.	Pennsylvania,	The Preparation of Homoeopathic	Medicines.
Brickley, Jeremiah W.	Pennsylvania,	Mechanismus de Respiratio.	
Budlong, John C	Rhode Island,	The Duties of the Accoucheur.	
Chainberlin, Chas. H.	Vermont,	Diphtheria.	
Chambers, Wm. C	Pennsylvania,	Ththisis Pulmonalis.	
Child, Nelson N.	New York,	Diagnosis.	
Childs, Wm. R.	Pennsylvania.	A Case from Practice.	
Gifford, Gilbert L.	New York,	The Physician and his Profession	
Gilchrist, James G.	Pennsylvania,	Poisoned Wounds.	
Homer, Horace	Pennsylvania,	Surgery.	
Jones, Albert Budd.	Pennsylvania,	Symptomotology.	
Kittenger, Leonard	New Jersey,	Erysipelas.	
Lowry, Charles	New Jersey,	Disease and its Treatment.	
Pratt, Henry C.	Pennsylvania,	The Indestructibility of Matter.	
Sisson, Wm. H. II.	Massachusetts,	The Curability of Consumption.	
Smith, Geo. B.	Connecticut,	Placenta Previa.	
Starkey, Daniel T.	Massachusetts,	Apis Mellifica.	
Sumner, Thos. F.	Massachusetts,	Tetanus.	
S. S. BROOKS, M. D., Dean,
     1320 Vine Street. 
MATRICULANTS  OF   THE   COLLEGE,
               SESSION OF  1862-63.
 Arthur. Charles
 Boeiicke. Francis E.
 Brickley, Jeremiah W.
 Bartlett. Horace C.
 Budlong, John  C.
 Crajiin. F. W.^M.D.,
 Chamberlin. Chas. H.
 Chambers. Win. C.
 Child, Nelson N.
 Childs, Wm. R.   .
 Dubs, Thos. S.
 Earhart,  Wm. J.
 Ely, Jairus R.
 Farrington. Harvey W.
 Gifford, G. L.
 Gilchrist, James G.
 Hickok, Wellington L.
 Hoffman, Rev. Francis C
 Homer, Horace.
 Hunt, Henry F.
 James. Wilmer
 Jones, A. B.
 Iorgensou. Joseph
 Kennedy, Allen
 Kittenger, Leonard
Lee. Chas. H.
 Pennsylvania.
 Pennsylvania.
 Pennsylvania.
 Vermont.
 Rhode Island.
 Massachusetts
 Vermont.
 Pennsylvania.
 New Vork.
 Pennsylvania.
 Pennsylvania.
 Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.
 Pennsylvania.
New York.
 Pennsylvania.
New York.
Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.
Rhode Island.
Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.
New Jersey.
Pennsvlvania. 
20
Locke, M. J.
Lowry, Chas.
Middleton, M. F.  .
Neville, W. H. H.
Ostrander, Walter M.
Pratt, Henry C
Rees, Henry E.
Reynolds, Herbert .
Sisson, Wm. H. H.
Smith, Geo. B.
Starkey, Daniel F.
Sumner, Thos. B.
Swan, Samuel
Trinkle, Samuel M.
Ward, E. Rufus   .
Vermont.
New York.
New Jersey.
Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.
Massachusetts.
Connecticut.
Massachusetts.
Massachusetts.
Delaware.
Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania.