ADDRESSES 
DELIVERED AT THE 
TWENTY-SECOND ANNUAL COMMENCEMENT 
OF THE 
HOIOL WARTMKNT 
OF 
GEORGETOWN COLLEGE, 
BY 
PROF. FLODOARDO HOWARD, M. D., 
WILLIAM WARD, M. D., 
AND 
R. S. L. WALSH, M. T). 
MARCH 9, 1871- 
WASHINGTON, D. 0 .: 
R. BERESFORD, PRINTER, 1716 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. 
1871.  
Washington, D. C., March 10,1871. 
Dear Sir: At the earnest solicitation of our fellow-students, whom we have 
the honor to represent, we respectfully request for publication a copy of your 
address delivered at the Twenty-Second Annual Commencement of the Medical 
Department of Georgetown College. 
With great respect, your obedient servants, 
FLORENCE DONOHUE, 
JNO. T. STRATTAN, 
T. E. MAJOR, 
j. a. mccauley, 
Flodoardo Howard, M. D., 
Professor of Obstetrics and Diseases of Women and Children. 
Gentlemen: Your note of to-day, requesting a copy of my valedictory 
address for publication, is received. 
Thanking you for the compliment, the address is at your disposal. 
With sentiments of high regard and esteem, sincerely your friend, 
Washington, D. C., March 10,1871. 
Florence Donohue, 
John T. Strattan, 
T. E. Major, 
J. A. McCauley, 
Committee, dec., 
FLODOARDO HOWARD. 
Washington, D. C., March 10,1871. 
Dear Sir: We have been delegated by our class-mates to express their earnest 
desire that you furnish us for publication a copy of your valedictory address 
delivered at the Twenty-Second Annual Commencement of the Medical Depart- 
ment of Georgetown College. 
With high regard, your obedient servants, 
FLORENCE DONOHUE, 
JNO. T. STRATTAN, 
T. E. MAJOR, 
j. a. McCauley. 
William Wabb, M. D., 
FaZedfcforfun, Class of "11. 
Gentlemen: Your communication of this date, requesting a copy of my ad- 
dress,has been duly received. Prepared amidstamultiplicity of duties urgently 
pressing upon me, its crude and unfinished character little fit it for the scrutiny 
to which it will be subjected when in print. I, therefore, reluctantly comply with 
your request, and transmit you the desired copy. 
Respectfully, your obedient servant, 
Washington, D. C., March 10,1871. 
Florence Donohue, 
John T. Strattan, 
T. E. Major, 
J. A. McCauley, 
W. WARD. 
Committee. 4 
Washington, P. C., March 10,1871. 
Dear Sir: In behalf of the "Medical Society of the Alumni of Georgetown 
College," we respectfully solicit for publication a copy of the address delivered 
by you at the Twenty Second Annual Commencement Exercises of Georgetown 
College. 
Very truly yours, &c., 
R. D. De L. FRENCH, M. D., 
v. mcnally, m. d., 
F. O. ST. CLAIR. M. D„ 
Commmittee. 
R. S. L. Walsh, M. D. 
Washington, March 10,1871. 
Gentlemen : With thanks for the compliment tendered, I place the manu- 
script of my address in your hands. Hoping it may merit the confidence reposed, 
I am, very truly, yours, &c.. 
R. S. L. WALSH, M. D. 
R. D. DeL. French, M. D., 
V. McNally, M. D., 
F. O. St. Clair, M. D., 
Committee.. ADDRESS 
of 
FLODOARDO HOWARD, M. D., 
Professor of Obstetrics and Diseases of Women and Children. 
Gentlemen. Graduates of the Medical Department of 
Georgetown College. 
It is with emotions of sincere pleasure that we congratulate 
you on the honors you have this day acquired. The Presi- 
dent and Faculty have placed in your hands the diploma of 
the institution, which bears testimony to your high qualifica- 
tions. Your examinations have been highly creditable to 
yourselves, and equally honorable to us. The Faculty feel 
assured that we have sown our seed upon good ground, where 
it will bring forth fruit, and mature into abundant havest. 
I am grateful to my colleagues for this opportunity of express- 
ing my admiration at your proficiency, industry, courtesy 
and high moral and gentlemanly bearing. From this day 
you are commissioned as doctors of medicine, to start on 
your mission to the relief of suffering humanity. 
We feel a lively interest in your success, and our best 
wishes attend you. 
It has been well said, gentlemen, that the price of know- 
ledge is eternal thought. Let it be your sacred duty to ac- 
quire knowledge. Do you ask, have we not graduated ? You 
have; but that graduation, honorable as it is to you, is but 
the first step to professional distinction and usefulness. You 
should consider your studies just begun. You have ac- 
quired the elements, the first principles in our school. In 
your libraries, in the chambers of the sick, suffering and 
dying ; at all times, by night and by day, you must continue r> 
to study, and thus enlarge your store of information! Oh, 
what a glorious privilege! What a labor of love! How 
God-like to heal the sick, halt, blind and deaf, to still the 
aching brain, to soothe the throbbing heart, to cool the burn- 
ing fever, to arrest disease, to administer restoratives to 
the father, the mother, the husband, the wife or the child, 
and stay the hand of death! This is truly noble, and will 
repay a life of toil. Will you not labor for it by diligent 
study and reflection ? Will you not press in and perfect the 
work so auspiciously begun. Be not discouraged by the 
difficulties in your way. As you advance the obstructions 
will vanish, while greater facilities for usefulness will come 
up before you. 
Rightly appreciate your positions and your ability, give 
all your energies to the great work before you, and resolve 
to succeed. Ever bear in mind that your professional suc- 
cess demands self-reliance and the constant cultivation of 
your intellectual faculties. Think for yourselves, observe 
for yourselves. Profound thought and close observation 
will enable you to acquire available facts in medical science. 
Neither genins, talents, wealth or education, without this, 
will avail you. Acquaint yourselves with the various theo- 
ries of medicine, and then judge for yourselves. Experience 
will teach you what is true and reliable-what to adopt, and 
what to reject. You are the honored graduates of the only 
true system of medicine. But do not shut your eyes to light, 
from whatever source it may come. Investigate and appro- 
priate all that is true or valuable, whether old or new, and 
give your patients the advantage of the knowledge thus ac- 
quired. Do this, and your practice will be comprehensive, 
elective, in the true sense curative, andyou will be truly doctors, 
or learned in medicine. Knowledge in the hands of a good 
man is like the bulwark erected by the patriot against an 
insidious foe. Knowledge in the hands of a bad man is like - 
the sword of the assassin, used only for destruction. This is 
strictly true of our profession. 
Whether you succeed or fail, whether you prove a bless- 7 
ing or curse to society, whether your professional career be 
for weal or woe, depends wholly upon yourselves. Posses- 
sed of proper principles of high moral worth, you will pass 
on, overcoming all difficulties in the attainment of usefulness 
and eminence. Never forget that pure morality should shine 
conspicuously in the deportment of the physician. lie before 
all others is permitted to enter into the sacred privacy of 
families, and, consequently, he above all others, should be 
pure and above suspicion. lie mingles with all classes, under 
the most trying circumstances. To him health and life are 
entrusted, and his own conscience is the only tribunal that 
watches over his treatment or decides on his motives. His 
intercourse with the sick, his entire professional conduct, 
should be governed solely by the welfare of his patient, and 
his motives founded on the purest morality. Should he dis- 
grace his calling to sinister or unholy purposes, he becomes 
the most formidable and dangerous of men-more to be 
shunned than pestilence itself. 
Hufland has truly said, "A physician without morality is 
not merely a nonentity, he is a monster." In the exercise 
of your profession, go' about doing good, and thus imitate 
the illustrious example of the great Physician of Souls, the 
Saviour of mankind. 
In your visits to the sick, cultivate close observation. You 
will, in the first few years of practice, have ample time to 
spend at the bed-side of your patients, and you should improve 
these opportunities. Remember that cases of disease care- 
fully observed through all their stages will afford you inval- 
uable information not attainable in any other way. One hour 
of such study is worth the reading of volumes. Spend, then, 
much of your time in the sick chamber; acquire the whole 
history of cases; watch all the changes of disease; learn to 
recognize symptoms; examine into the causesand surround- 
ing influences, and then prescribe and treat them, carefully 
watching the effect of your remedies on the system. The 
inexperienced medical man who does not remain in the sick 
room long enough to examine into the minute details of cases, 8 
must necessarily prescribe at. random. He will acquire hab- 
its of indifference rather than those of close observation, and 
his whole professional life is likely to be one of routine or 
empiricism. While he who weighs every symptom and cir- 
cumstance with care, and is devoted to his patients, will 
acquire a tact in diagnosticating and treating disease. It is 
said of the distinguished Rush, that, by habits of close obser- 
vation, he acquired such a perfect knowledge of the pulse that 
he could detect the character of disease without any other 
aid. 
In the investigation of the diseases of children, close and 
careful observation is absolutely essential. These little suf- 
ferers cannot describe their own symptoms or feelings, and, 
consequently, their diseases require much closer and more 
repeated examinations. The physician who devotes himself 
to these little lovable and helpless patients, who by close 
observation and study obtains a knowledge of their com- 
plaints, together with the treatment proper for their cure, 
will acquire extensive and lucrative practice. 
The interest you take in, and attention which you give 
to, the case of a dear child, insures the confidence and affec- 
tions of the devoted and anxious mother, who dings to her 
babe with all a mother's love. A love reciprocated, for 
" Is there a boon on earth 
One half so precious as the infant's love 
To her who bore him ? Can the pageant world, 
With its brief fashions, or the fervid gaze, 
Exploring earth's broad scenery, buy one hour 
Like his sweet breathing slumber in her arms ? 
0, no, no, no!" 
Gentlemen, the poor generally become the patients of 
young physicians. To such, always be kind and attentive. 
They need your smypathy and aid when sick, and no young 
physician deserves to succeed who fails to extend this aid and 
sympathy, when called upon. In this connection, I am happy 9 
to be able to say, that there is no profession which bestows 
more time, more labor, more expense and more attention 
upon the poor than our own. The profession of medicine is 
eminently one of usefulness and Christian charity. As such 
1 trust you will always esteem it, always sustain it. With us it 
is eminently true that it is more blessed to give than to receive. 
" You must benefit others first, or you cannot do good to 
yourselves." This motto you should ever remember. It has 
brightly illuminated the successful career of your illustrious 
predecessors in the healing art. May it shine forth in the 
professional life of each of to-day's graduates, and in your 
declining days may you adopt and realize the sentiment of 
the distinguished Pott, who exclaimed in his last moments, 
"my lamp is nearly extinguished: I hope it has burned for 
the benefit of others." 
In attending the poor you really are, in one sense, their 
debtors; they willingly accept your inexperienced services 
at a period when the more wealthy would not confide in you; 
at a time, too, when you are acquiring essential information, 
valuable clinical instructions, the manner of entering the 
sick room, the tact of questioning and examining patients, 
the correct mode of prescribing medicines, diet, drink, and 
the knowledge of the minutiae, connected with the cure of 
disease. Your skill and success in treating the diseases of the 
poor, is your certain stepping-stone to acquire the confidence 
and practice of the wealthy. Truly, the poor rise up from 
their sick beds and call you blessed. They, and often they 
alone, proclaim your kind and successful attention, and do 
more than justice to your real or supposed merits. The pub- 
lic watches all your movements, closes not its eyes to such acts 
of benevolence, receives such testimony, it becomes itself a 
sufferer, and seeks for relief where it knows relief can be found. 
Never neglect the poor: they most need your sympathy and 
kind attention. In bestowing your charitable services on 
them you are laying the foundation of a useful and successful 
practice. When you will have grown old in the profession, 
when you will have acquired fame and fortune, still re- 10 
member the poor, look back upon them as the first step you 
macle to your present elevated position. 
There is another subject that I desire to impress upon your 
minds. In your intercourse with the sick, observe truthful- 
ness and sincerity. These traits of character in any relation 
of life are jewels-in the physician, they are beyond price. It 
is neither politic nor honest to deceive a patient, to promise 
recovery when you know the case to be hopeless. There are 
times when our prognosis of recovery may be honest, yet 
fatally erroneous. "Here we err, but sin not." When the 
physician knows that his patients cannot recover, yet gives 
assurance of life to the last moments of expiring nature, he 
fearfully violates a sacred duty. Let me entreat you never 
to deceive your patients wilfully; do not make the case bet- 
ter or worse than it really is, and when death is near and 
inevitable, never fail to make the sad truth known. Ever be 
sincere and frank, and then you will not justly offend or 
injure any one, but will sustain the dignity of your high call- 
ing, as well as your professional integrity. "To your own 
self be true; you cannot then be false to any man." This 
course will calm the unsettled mind of your patients, and 
lead them to rely upon that great and good Being who holds 
the reins of life and death; thus securing to them that confi- 
dence, patience and submission which materially aids in restor- 
ation to health, and which, when the case is hopeless, is so 
beautiful and consoling in death. In your visits to the sick, 
always be kind and humane in your deportment. A rough 
and abrupt manner in administering to the sufferings of 
humanity are incompatible with the duties of the physician, 
lie should call all his sympathies into action, and treat his 
patients with gentleness and kindness. The sick place their 
health, their lives, that which is most valuable upon earth, into 
your keeping, and in return have a right to expect from you 
warm friendship, kindness and sympathy. The cordial 
esteem and kindness which you evince in their condition 
wiTl bind them to you with a cord of love not easily sundered. 
Let your kindness of manner flow from pure motives, from 1] 
true goodness of heart, from humanity and benevolence, that 
which is taught in the Christian maxim, "Love thy neighbor 
as thyself." 
I would next remind you of the necessity of observing pro- 
fessional fidelity. Tell no tales. There are secrets of the sick 
chamber which the physician should ever keep within his own 
breast. Tattling is always dishonorable and inexcusable. Tn 
the physician, it is despicable. He is made the confidant of 
domestic troubles and afflictions. To him is confided, never 
to be disclosed, the frailties and vices of weak humanity 
which lead to disease and death. Never abuse this confi- 
dence or trust reposed in you, ever remember that on these 
subjects you should be as silent as the tomb. 
In your professional intercourse with the gentler sex, let 
courtesy, tenderness and the most scrupulous honor and 
purity always attest the high esteem you entertain for her, 
and the respect which is so eminently her due. Woman, 
tender and physically weaker than man, yet sustains the 
heaviest and most painful part of the ills of life. In the af- 
fections and finer qualities of the heart, she is greatly man's 
superior. As mother, wife, sister or daughter, we cannot 
equal her qualities. "She is God's smile upon earth, God's 
best gift to man." 
Ah, woman' in this world of ours, 
What gift can be compared to thee ? 
How slow would drag life's weary hours, 
Though man's proud brow were bound with flowers. 
And his the wealth of land and sea. 
If destin'd to exist alone, 
And ne'er call woman's heart his own 1 
Permit me, gentlemen, in the next place, to remind you 
that the practice of medicine should be made the sole voca- 
tion of your lives. The profession of medicine well pursued 
is surely employment enough for one individual. Commence 
your professional course with unwavering stability of purpose, 12 
with sincere and uniform devotion to your honorable calling. 
A persevering, long continued effort is essential to success. 
This always has and always will be the case. The public is 
unwilling to trust so precious a boon as health and life to the 
inexperienced and untried, unless from absolute necessity. 
You must patiently await as they arise, such necessities and 
occasions; then exhibit your professional qualifications, and 
thus acquire the confidence and support of the public. Be 
patient, wait; remember that your success and progress must 
be slow. 
Decieve not yourselves with vain anticipations of a life of 
ease and comfort in the profession of your choice. There 
are hardships, difficulties and trials which you must en- 
counter. You wih meet with many occasions which de- 
mand great self-denial and personal sacrifice. So soon as you 
commence the practice of medicine, you resign the command 
of your time. It is no longer your own to use as you please. 
The good physician is over at his post, ever ready to respond 
to the cry of suffering and distress. Night and day, calm and 
storm, winter's cold and summer's heat, make no difference. 
He is ever prompt to obey professional calls, whether the 
summons come in the howling tempest or in the spring's 
sunshine; whether he be at the festive board, on his bed of 
repose, or in the house of prayer, he is at the command 
of the sick. He has no set time for social pleasures, for re- 
creation or other pursuits. His time of labor cannot be regu- 
lated by any ten hour law. He has no sacred day of rest. He 
must become familiar with sleepless nights and days of fast- 
ing and weariness. At all times and places, the moment duty 
calls he must arise, leave all and go. There is no escape from 
labor to the eminent successful practitioner this side the 
grave. The sick cannot and will not do without him; and if 
he be a conscientious man, he will feel he cannot be spared. 
We are informed that the great Boerhaave shut himself up 
almost a prisoner in his own house in his old age, so that no 
one could gain admission to him, except by the intercession 
of friends or by bribing his servants. Even then he was ha- 13 
passed and worn out with incessant consultations. The good 
physician-he who knows that he can relieve suffering and 
disease, and feels the obligation to do so-cannot refuse the 
calls for his aid. Only when the solemn end of life comes, and 
he is summoned to his reward, can he say, that at last his long 
day's work is done. 
Another feature in our professional life, for which you 
should be prepared, is constant familiarity with suffering and 
misery. The physician dwells under the cloud. Bright 
glimpses of sunshine may sometimes beam upon his path; but 
the gloom of sorrow rests over almost all his intercourse with 
man. The wail of grief and the deep sob of anguish are 
ever in his ears. The scones that crowd upon his memory 
when he sits down to review the labors of the day, are of 
human forms writhing in agony, loved ones pining away in 
the midst of weeping friends, strong men stricken down in 
their pride, little children waiting for a help he too often can- 
not give, and patient sufferers whose wan composure is more 
touching than the noisy sorrow. lie lays his head upon the 
pillow, amidst the recollections of misery, and is aroused from 
it by the cry of distress. If he has the sympathies of the 
human heart, he must take part in all this. But you will say, 
he becomes used to it, callous and unfeeling. The moment 
he does so, let him give up his office and depart: he is no 
longer fit for his duty. Let him carry his heart of steel into 
some other less beneficent calling. 
I know that the physician should not have the weak sym- 
pathies of the child, that he should possess energy and firm- 
ness to do and to bear all that is to be done or borne. "But 
he must do it lovingly and kindly; must enter into the feel- 
ings of his patients, and be keenly sensitive to his suffer- 
ings," (Prof. Paterson.) Some will say, notwithstanding all 
these hardships and difficulties, the physician has great reward. 
What is that reward ? Is it wealth ? Verily not. He who ex- 
pects to make money rapidly must strive in some other pur- 
suit. Look around upon the profession, and you will find 
but few wealthy men who have become so by the practice 14 
of medicine. Rightly pursued, it may yield a support, and 
perhaps a competency for declining years, but rarely more. 
When you discover that the physician's reward is not wealth, 
you may conclude that it is worldly honor or fame. In this 
you are again mistaken. There is small scope in our pro- 
fession for the energies of an ambitious man. A physician's 
fame is usually local, circumscribed and temporary. Under 
the most favorable circumstances, he cannot hope for a wide- 
spread reputation. The quiet triumphs of medical art are 
not calculated to captivate the public mind. The true reward 
and reputation of the physician consists in the love of his 
patients and friends, the esteem and confidence of his pro- 
fessional brethren, the reverence of his pupils, the respect of 
the community in which he lives, and the consciousness of a 
life well spent. This is enough-all the good physician will 
ask or desire. 
Finally, gentlemen, if you wish to glide safely through the 
storms of life, and preserve a cheerful and blissful composure 
under its vicissitudes, allow me earnestly to counsel you at 
all times, and under all circumstances, to entertain an abid- 
ing sense of the providence, presence and goodness of the 
Great Jehovah. Everywhere around us are the evidences of 
the loving kindness of our Heavenly Father. In the lan- 
guage of an eloquent author, " The love of God smiles in the 
beauty and verdure of spring, and flows brightly in the rip- 
pling waters; it sings in the simple and touching melodies of 
nature, and warbles and rejoices in the shouts of the har- 
vest;" or, in the language of poetry, it- 
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees; 
Lives through all life, extends through all extent. 
Spreads undivided, operates unspent. 
Gentlemen, 1 will not detain yon longer. The ties that 
have bound us together must now be severed; other duties 
and home voices call you away from us. Loved ones anxi- 15 
ously await your arrival. A doting mother, a devoted father, 
an affectionate sister, or perhaps a dearer than these, with 
a secret pleasure and joy she would blush to utter, listens for 
your returning footsteps. We would not keep you longer 
from that happy meeting. Go, then, and God's blessing go 
with you. 
In the name of our President and Faculty, I bid you an 
earnest and affectionate farewell ADDRESS 
OF 
WILLIAM WARD, M. D., 
Valedictorian, Class of 1871. 
Ladies and Gentlemen : 
I have the honor to appear before you in behalf of the Grad- 
uating Class of the Medical Department of Georgetown Col- 
lege ; not on account of any superior merits or qualifications of 
my own, but as an individual member of the class, elected 
upon purely personal considerations, and delegated to dis- 
charge the very agreeable though responsible duty of address- 
ing you to-day. 
After years of close application and arduous study, hesita- 
ting at the many obstacles in our path, but always animated 
by the kind encouragement of our professors, we stand here 
to-day to realize our cherished hopes, and to receive from 
our Alma Mater the reward of our long and tedious labors. 
The profession which we have chosen has not for its object 
the mere gratification of an idle curiosity, but a desire to do 
good in its most comprehensive sense. Disease is the natural 
inheritance of mankind. The characteristics of every living 
organism are ceaseless change and ceaseless waste. Soon as 
man begins to live he begins to die. The processes of decay 
and regeneration are constantly going on in the body, and, if 
an excess of the one or a diminution of the other occur, dis- 
ease follows. The laws of health are not to be broken with- 
out incurring the penalty of such indiscretions. You call 
the physician to interpose his kind offices. Here he finds a 
statesman, whose voice was wont to fill the halls of yon Cap- 
itol with the magic spell of his eloquence, smitten by fever 17 
induced by a super human effort in defense of the rights and 
liberties of his constituency; there an humble mendicant, 
friendless and penniless, dependent upon the charity of neigh- 
bors for a precarious livelihood, the victim of many hardships 
and privations, prostrated upon abed of sickness; or, here 
perchance, a maiden, loved and cherished for domestic virtues, 
admired for her intellectual endowments, resplendent in the 
charms of her personal beauty, stricken by a malignant 
typhoid, her life seriously endangered, and her friends the 
prey of the most heartrending anxiety. In the wisdom of 
his experience-in the plentitude of his knowledge-in the 
kindness of his heart-he responds to the call. Familiar with 
the many varieties of human suffering and human weakness, 
he is the last to acknowledge any limit to his ministrations. It 
is no part of his duty to inquire whether the malady be a just 
retribution for the reckless violation of the laws of hygiene. 
Suffice it that a fellow-creature has been stricken by disease- 
it is his obligation, or rather the privilege of his noble 
art, to give all the relief in his power, whether the unfortu- 
nate sufferer be an inmate of hospital or prison, palace or 
hovel. And yet the physician is frequently accused of being 
an atheist. 
" Ubi tres medici, ibi duo atliti" A mediaeval proverb, " where 
you find three physicians there arc two atheists." This accu- 
sation, against the medical profession, has been made so fre- 
quently that, we may very suitably, and, I think, very profit- 
ably, inquire whether any arguments may be adduced from 
anatomical or physiological researches, to prove the existence 
of an immaterial principle, spirit, or soul. We know that 
many eminent divines have totally disregarded or held in very 
slight esteem the structural facts that have been established 
by the investigations of anatomists and physiologists, and 
have asserted, with an oversight and an injustice that cannot 
be too much deplored, that the study of physiology leads to 
materialism. Indeed, many sincere but ill-informed men 
have decried the study of the natural sciences generally as 
inimical to true religion ; as if God's over visible and mag- 18 
nificent revelations, in the structure of the many marvellous 
creations around, could be at variance with his recorded word. 
But the study of the human brain proves the falsity of this 
charge. The nervous system of man consists essentially of 
centripetal, or sensory fibres, to conduct external impressions 
inward; ganglia or nerve centres, for the reception and regis- 
tration of these impressions, and origination of motion; and 
centrifugal, or motor fibres, for the transmission of impulses 
or mandates, thus originated, to different portions of the body. 
An external influence is registered in the brain, the pro- 
cess of intellection follows; a hand placed upon the brow, 
the sense of touch is experienced; and tire shrubbery of 
the conservatory, redolent with perfume, regales the 
sense of smell. Thus constituted, the nervous system is a 
mere machine, automatic, and requiring the influence of an 
external agent to put it in motion, just as it is seen in the 
mechanism of the watch-a certain spring must be touched 
before motion can be produced. 
There must, however, be adaptation between the instrument 
and the agent that puts it in motion, as is illustrated in the 
senses of sight, hearing, taste and touch. The properties 
of light explain to us the uses of different portions of the 
eye. So, too, by this same principle of adaptation, the con- 
verse of this rule will hold, and to an intellect of sufficient 
strength the structure of the eye being given, the wonderful 
properties of light may be demonstrated.' 
It has been asserted, that, arguing in the same manner, 
"a man deaf and dumb, but of an intellect of sufficient ca- 
pacity, might from a critical study of the ear determine the 
nature of sound. Nay, even more, it is not impossible that 
he should be able to compare the physical peculiarities of 
light and sound respectively, and to demonstrate that these 
originate in normal, and those in transverse, vibrations." 
The question, therefore, which we are considering, may 
be presented in two forms, and may be demonstrated directly 
or inversely. The nature of light being given to ascertain 19 
the construction of the eye, and the nature of the optical 
apparatus being given to determine the properties, of light. 
Let us now adopt the inverse mode of argument, as pre- 
sented by an eminent physiologist. 
" The structure of the brain being given to ascertain the 
nature of the agent that puts it in motion;" and here, let 
me say, that there is a striking analogy between the brain 
and other great nerve centres. In it, we have the centripital 
and centrifugal fibres, converging to the sensory ganglia, and 
cells for the reception and elaboration of force, as is shown in 
the convolutions of the brain. Then, if other nerve centres 
are purely automatic, and require external influence to pro- 
duce effect; if the eye, when surrounded by utter darkness 
fails to see, but requires the agency of light; if the ear is 
dull and useless, save under the vibrations that produce 
sound-since there is a perfect analogy in these nervous or- 
ganizations, we can logically conclude that there is an intel- 
lectual principle as separate and distinct from the body as 
sound is from the ear or light from the eye, and that exter- 
nal agent is the spirit or soul. 
Thus it is, that physiology and anatomy, by establishing 
the structural evidence of the existence of the soul, and explain- 
ing the nature of our own being, maybe in the hands of the 
truly philosophical divine, subservient to the first and 
most enduring interests of humanity. And, going still further 
in the rapid progress of kindred sciences, and by dinging to 
those principles of natural philosophy enunciated in the 
doctrines of the indestructibility of matter and the everlast- 
ing duration of force-may prove that this immaterial princi- 
ple, this great principle of conscious identity, is also incapable 
of destruction. 
For my part, I have no sympathy with those who say that 
this or that physiological problem is above reason. My faith 
in the intellectual strength of man is profound, and I believe 
the day is not far distant when the study of the arts and 
sciences will explain the deepest and most occult mysteries 
of our nature. Then will man be a perfect monument of the 20 
wisdom and power of the Creator; and then will we behold 
that noble practice of medicine, which will rival in precision 
the mechanical engineering of these times. 
Ladies and Gentlemen: 
In addition to the pleasant duty of addressing yon to-day, 
it devolves upon me, to pronounce to our distinguished pro- 
fessors and my fellow-students the customary valedictory 
salutations; to you, however, I would not breathe a word that 
could be construed into the language of parting. Until to-day, 
we have been unknown to you as medical men, but the honor 
of a formal introduction, in our new character, has been ex- 
tended to us, and we rejoice in the knowledge of our new 
acquaintanceship. The physician, above all men, knows how 
to appreciate the true character of woman. He sees her, not 
only in the social circle, to which she imparts so many varied 
charms, but in the hospital, in the abodes of disease and suffer- 
ing and want, where all her beautiful qualities of mind and 
heart shine forth. Kind, gentle, patient, sympathetic, the sick 
room, without her, would be intolerable. With her presence, 
half the misery of disease is removed. How often does the 
aged man, at the close of a long and eventful life, checkered 
with pleasuresand misfortunes, acknowledge that, though all 
other early attachments and associations have ended in dis- 
appointment and forgetfulness, the wife of his youth is true 
to her profession. In a world where everything else is pass- 
ing away, her affection alone remains unchanged. When the 
schemes of his youthful days have vanished, when the suc- 
cesses and triumphs of his early manhood appear to him as 
the varieties of life, when in the feeble extremity of age the 
excitement and commotion of a busy world attract not his 
attention, the echo of a mother's voice is heard; of her, whose 
tender solicitude watched his wayward steps, whose tears fell 
to chide his youthful errors, whose bright smile rewarded 
his good deeds, whose faultless life is his own precious 
legacy and the personification of God's goodness to man. 21 
Gentlemen of the Faculty: 
We meet you to-day for the last time in the old and 
familiar relationship of preceptor and student, which has 
so pleasantly existed between us during our collegiate 
course, and while we rejoice at the successful termina- 
tion of our labors, we cannot part without expressing to you 
our deep sense of obligation. You have given us, with- 
out stint, the benefits of your learning and experience, 
and your intercourse with us has always been marked by 
the utmost courtesy and consideration. Accept, therefore, 
in the name of the class, our hearty and unfeigned thanks, 
and believe me, sirs, we will ever hold your names in pleasant 
and grateful recollection. 
Fellow Students: 
This day witnesses the consummation of hopes long 
cherished, and the gratification of an ambition long enter- 
tained. We have had the honor to day, in the pres- 
ence of our friends and the public, to be received into 
the noble brotherhood of physicians. They rejoice at our 
success, and congratulate us on the happy termination of 
our student career. Tn the midst of all this rejoicing, how- 
ever, a feeling of sadness passes over my mind, and I would 
linger only a moment at your side. To-day we part, and, 
though separated in person, we will ever be present in spirit, 
and the remembrance of you, the many pleasant moments 
spent in your company, and the frequent manifestations of 
kind, though unmerited partiality will always be green in 
my memory.-Farewell. 
V </ A I) 1) R ESS 
OF 
R. S. L. WALSH, M. D., 
In behalf of the Alumni Society. 
Mr. President and Professors, Members of the Alumni 
and Graduating Class, Ladies and Gentlemen: 
Elected by my' society to address you to-day, an honor un- 
merited, I fear my feeble effort must fall Hat upon cars still 
ringing with the eloquence of my predecessors, and I will 
consume but a short space of your time. 
Once more, Mr. President and Professors, you are assem- 
bled to reap the reward of your toil. The tree you planted 
twenty-two years ago, cultivating and guarding with strictest 
care, has again borne fruit, and you are here to-day to gather 
in that annual harvest which rewards and gladdens the heart 
of the faithful husbandman. This occasion must be pregnant 
with interest to you. You see beside you a band of youth- 
ful warriors, trained and equipped by you, eager to jointhat 
grand army already engaged in the lists with disease and 
death. You .see around you older soldiers who have known 
victory and defeat, still in active service and ready to mount 
the ramparts at the first sound of alarm. You know that in 
distant lands others are bravely waging war in the cause of 
suffering humanity whose eyes will kindle when they notice 
the proceedings here to-day, and who will send back, on the 
wings of thought, "God speed ye" in your noble work, as 
they remember their connection with their Alma Mater. You 
know that the seed you have sown has not fallen in barren 
places. It has taken root and grown, until the spreading 23 
branches tell of the parent tree throughout the nations of the 
world. 
Knowing the past yon need not hesitate in the future. 
Avoiding selfish policy, reforming and remodeling when ne- 
cessary, permitting no element of success to remain unem- 
ployed, using all the fight that science and experiment are 
throwing upon our profession, working for the welfare of her 
students alone, the path of the Medical Department of George- 
town College must lead onward and upward through the years 
to come. 
Under the shadow of your college has grown the society 
I have the honor to represent. We are young in years, hut 
our organization is complete; receiving from the highest 
authority, the National Medical Association, all the notice 
and rights we claim. Around our Alma Mater cluster all 
our memories of student fife. We are identified with her 
welfare, and we share with you the pleasures of this day. 
United we are a power, and we must permit no disturbing 
influences or lack of energy to cramp our usefulness. As 
the mother looks to her children, so do you expect from us 
encouragement and support; and, while guarding our distinct 
organization with a faithful eye, we constitute ourselves your 
defenders and assistants in all your efforts to further our 
noble profession. 
To yon, young gentlemen of the graduating class, 1 turn 
with varied emotions. To me has been delegated the power 
of extending the right hand of fellowship-to welcome you, 
in the name of my society, into the brotherhood of medi- 
cine. We have passed a shorter or longer distance along 
the road you are about to travel. A greater or smaller 
number of obstacles upon that vast highway have been over- 
come; but we remember that all of them were accompanied 
by difficulties rendering the bravest faint and sick at heart. 
We were at one time placed as you are now, and we know 
that you must follow as we have gone. Then let us, here 
on the threshold of your career, catch from the lamp of ex- 
perience beams to fight you on your way. That the path 24 
you sought could only be gained by close, persistent study, 
your preliminary training lias taught. Now, fully entered 
upon the race, you will find that to keep from being over- 
thrown or left behind by that great cavalcade which sur- 
rounds and follows you, your efforts must be treble what they 
were. 
There arc certain great fundamental truths which should 
be made the groundwork of your professional studies. Du- 
ring the earlier years of your practice, when you have most 
leisure, you should embrace every opportunity to notice the 
effect of disease. The post mortem will often make that 
which was veiled and obscure before death, plainly visible, 
and you will find pathology a most valuable assistant in your 
physiological studies. Remember, that a correct diagnosis is 
the sheet-anchor of success; without it, you will be as a ship 
without compass, a warrior without knowledge of the strength 
of his foe. If you wish to excel as surgeons, the training 
ground is the dissecting room. The road often followed is 
easily found, and to know where, to cut will make the hand 
firm and blade sure, that might otherwise deal trembling 
destruction to healthy parts. Every college should have this 
motto emblazoned on its walls: The bedside for the physi- 
cian; the dissecting room for the surgeon. 
The physician's life is one of constant study. Disease is 
guided by no fixed rules. You may have to unlearn to- 
morrow that which you learned to-day. The student at law 
finds his study a vast chart lying open before him. It is a 
battle ground that has been fought over again and again, and 
fortifications of precedents and opinions mark the strong- 
holds where he may seek succor and shelter. Age throws 
around it the shield of oblivion, until customs, so old "that 
the mind of man runneth not to the contrary," become the 
common law of the land. Not so of medicine. There is 
scarcely a disease that is not modified by differences of tem- 
perament, climatic or other causes, and the routinist who 
blindly follows precedent may establish one of death. Opin- 
ions that our predecessors of fifty years ago deemed infallible 25 
arc now discarded and worthless. There is no common law 
in medicine. You can intrench yourself within no armory 
of ideas, saying "here are my weapons, come what may, let 
disease attack from any source or in any form, I am armed 
and prepared to defeat it." The investigations of a profes- 
sional brother on the morrow may prove that your boasted 
weapons are ideal in truth; were but as "daggers of lath." 
Without close and constant study you can never attain and 
keep place in the front ranks of your profession. A plausi- 
ble address, winning manners or "pomp and circumstance" 
of show may, for a time, attract the multitude. But to obtain 
the esteem and respect of the good and honest of your pro-, 
fession, which should be your highest aim, there must be, 
under all, the germs of merit and knowledge. Medicine will 
permit no flirtation with other pursuits; she is a jealous mis- 
tress and will require a rendering of all your time, and the 
profession will view with a suspicious eye the physician 
who strays from the beaten path in search of benefits or 
honors. 
Medicine has made such vast strides of late years and our 
literature has become so voluminous, that it is impossible for 
the general practitioner to give each branch the attention it 
merits. The days of gold-headed canes and mystery are over. 
Hogarth's satirical picture of the quarreling doctors and dying 
patient is no longer applicable. Our discussions are held in 
our societies, and our ideas are well digested before they arc 
brought to the bed side. Life is too short for one braih to 
grasp all that is known of existing disease in its varied forms; 
and the general practitioner will, in the future, find the spe- 
cialist attacking and penetrating his weakened line of de- 
fence with concentrated ideas from every point. 
Not only has our literature increased, but many Colleges 
have opened their portals to another class of candi- 
dates, and bright eyes now beaming approbation upon you, 
may, before long, be gleaning knowledge from the same 
pages you have read. It is not intended to discuss female 
physicians here. Many ladies have had sufficient daring to 26 
essay the experiment, and have met with more or less suc- 
cess; but it is an attempt requiring serious forethought. It 
is true that in the sick room womanly traits shine brightest, 
ft is there her patience, gentleness, and attention are most 
strongly developed, but rather as nurse than physician. It 
is her vocation to cheer and soothe the sufferer through the 
long hours of pain and despondency; to whisper hope, con- 
solation and rest, and in this way assist the physician in his 
attack upon disease. Of well educated nurses we have not 
enough-we cannot have too many. If the Stantons and 
Anthonys who are preaching female suffrage, and equal 
privileges in professional honors throughout the land, would 
but halt in their attempt to drag woman from her proper 
sphere, and turn their misguided abilities toward a correct 
system of education, they would do far more for their sex. 
Let them preach charity and usefulness to their followers- 
send them into the haunts of poverty and misery, shedding 
around the rays of comfort where all is black with despair. 
Let them- 
" Teach the orphan boy to read, 
And teach the orphan girl to sew; 
Pray Heaven for" a womans "heart, 
And let" their mannish ideas "go." 
Or let them follow that earthly angel, the sister of charity, 
in her daily rounds of mercy, and imitating her, they will 
win purer blessings and brighter laurels than will meet them 
in a professional career. 
The relationship existing between physician and patient 
is of the most intimate character. He is admitted to the 
centre of the home circle; its secrets are confided to him, 
and he is frequently called upon to act the part of friend' 
comforter and adviser. Often the happiness of families is 
entrusted to his care. He must find soothing words for 
mental anguish, as well as opiate drugs for physical pain. 
Lot no temptation permit you to abuse the confidence re- 
posed. The highest sense of honor must guide you here. 27 
Your relation to tire public must not be forgotten. It is 
your duty to prevent disease as well as remove it. The 
masses are wofully ignorant of the simplest laws of health. 
Errors in diet, ventilation, dressing and exercise are so abun- 
dant that it is a matter of surprise that so many live-not that 
so many die. It will be your duty to remove this ignorance 
so far as you may be permitted; to teach the people to 
think and care for themselves, and how to live, that the fell 
destroyer may often be bathed in his approach. 
The practice of medicine engenders a life of constant toil. 
Kot a day, not an hour can you call your own, and the pub- 
lic, slow to praise, but quick to blame, will sharply censure 
any fancied slight of duty. Kot only will ah your energies 
be severely taxed to defeat disease, but the voice of vain 
fears and caprice will sorely try your patience and endurance. 
Ingratitude, stalking by the side of Ignorance, will often hiss 
reproaches in your ear when, your best endeavors proving of 
no avail, the flame of life expires. Your greatest efforts 
will frequently remain unrewarded, and the patient who 
promised most when his fears were excited, will find his 
honesty, like Bob Acres' courage, oozing from his fingers' 
ends as he recovers. And as age approaches, when frosted 
locks tell that the winter of fife is near; the wrinkled brow 
shows lines of care; the faltering step descends the down- 
ward path, and nature speaks by many signs, the " sands of 
life are nearly run," your hardest toil begins. At sixty the 
banker no longer reads his ledger's page, but younger eyes 
may do the work. The warrior, then, retires on his laurels 
and his scars. The lawyer passes his brief to younger hands. 
But you will find your work increased. Ko one can supply 
your place in the estimation of your patients, and thus, over- 
work, when rest should be had, combined with exposure, 
entitles medicine to her place in the list of hazardous profes- 
sions. 
But all is not dark; there are some bright spots amid our 
toil; some green places, whore fountains of sympathy and 
kindness well up to cheer and refresh us on our road. We 28 
have the happiness of benefitting and relieving the sufferings 
of our fellow man, and the warm grasp of the hand with the 
grateful " God bless you, Doctor," make us rejoice that it is 
our mission to relieve pain. 
When the pure statesman and orator has passed away, he 
whose heart, overflowing with love for his fellow-man, 
prompted his brain to thoughts that flowed in choicest lan- 
guage from his tongue, until the multitude would laugh or 
weep beneath his sway; who spread the wings of pity over 
the oppressed; who dared to fight the tyrant of the hour; 
who drew the veil from sin, showing her naked horrors to 
the world until she burned to nothing in the blushes of her 
shame; who only praised the good in man, a faithful people 
in-urn the ashes of his memory and store them, safe, within 
the niche of fame. When at the roll-call of honor the voice 
of the warrior chief no longer answers to his name, he who 
rescued his country from the foe, or by brilliant conquests 
added to her glory and renown, the muffled drum and tramp 
of armed men tell that a nation marches to the grave. And 
when, but yesterday, the man of letters dropped his pen, the 
world wove wreaths of laurel for his tomb. But when the 
physician falls»beneath his foe no roll of drum will tell the 
tale. For him the laurel wreath is rarely twined, or place 
supplied within the niche of fame. As quietly as he lived he 
passes away; a narrow circle mourns his loss; but when 
the roll-call of honor is heard on high, then will his name 
be found beside the Good Samaritan's. Then let ns 
So live that when" our summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan which moves 
To that mysterious realm where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death," 
We " go, not like the quarry slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach" our graves 
" Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him and lies down to pleasant dreams." 
To you, ladies and gentlemen, who by your presence and 29 
floral offerings, have shown such kind interest in our pro- 
ceedings, I tender our grateful thanks. Hoping this interest 
may never lessen, and knowing they could not be placed in 
better hands, we surrender these young gentlemen to your 
care and bespeak for them your kind assistance while strug- 
gling for a foothold amid the battle of life. GRADUATES, CLASS OF I87L 
BARNET", J. W. - - - - San Francisco, Cal. 
Inflammation. 
BOARMAN, CHAS. V. - - - Washington, D. C. 
Pathology and Symptoms of Pulmonary Tuberculosis. 
BREEN, JAMES - - - Massachusetts. 
Rubeola. , 
CONOVER, J. C. - - - - New Jersey. 
Menstruation. 
DAVIS, GEORGE M. - - - Washington, D. C. 
Neuralgia. 
ECKHARDT, CHAS. II. - - - Pennsylvania. 
Intermittent Fever. 
FOSTER, F. J. - - - - New York. 
Laryngo-Trachitis. 
HAZARD, DAVID L. Washington, D. C. 
Anatomy and Pathology of the Tonsils. 
HALL, HENRY S. Bangor, Maine. 
Foetal and Adult Liver. 
KETCHAM, ORLANDO C. - - Pennsylvania. 
Anatomy and Functions of the Sympathetic Nervous System. 
LITTLE, JOHN J. - - - Wisconsin. 
Anatomy and Functions of the Pneumogastric Nerve. 
MOORE, J. B. . _ _ _ Washington, D. C. 
Pneumonitis. 
PAGE, R. A. . - - - - Washington, D. C. 
Scarlatina. 
RODRIGUE, A. - Pennsylvania. 
Pleuritis. 
SILVESTER, J. HENRY - - Washington, D. C. 
Medical Botany. 
WARD, WILLIAM - Maryland. 
Erysipelas. UNDEBGBADUATES. 
BAKER, CHAS. P. - - - Portland, Me. ' 
BALL, 0. M. - - - - Michigan. 
BITTINGER, CHAS. - - - Washington, I). C. 
BOARDMAN, HERBERT - - Trumansburg, N. Y. 
BOGUE, A. P. - - - - Grand Rapids, Mich. 
CLARK, E. B. - - - - Tiffin, Ohio. 
COUMBE, J. T. - - - - Washington, D. C. 
COWLING, W. AV. - - - Columbus,. Ohio. 
DONOHUE, FLORENCE - - Trumansburg, N. Y. 
EATON, J. S. J. . . . Elkhorn, Wis. 
FRANZ, C. F. L. - - - - Washington, D. C. 
FRENCH, W. II. - - - New Hampshire. 
GATELY, M. J. - Roscommon, Ireland. 
HAZEN, DAVID II. - - - Belvidere, N. J. 
HICKMAN, G. W. VINTON - Baltimore, Md. 
KREABLES, THOS. A. - - Mystic Bridge, Conn. 
KUBEL, EDWARD F. - - - Bavaria. 
LEACH, H. E. ... Washington, D. C. 
MAJOR, T. E. . . . . Hillsboro', Ohio. 
MARTIN, J. LOUIS - - - Philadelphia, Pa. 
MAUSS, RICHARD G. - - - Covington, Ky. 
McCAULEY, J. a. - - - Washington, D. C. 
MILLER, CHAS. II. - - - Massachusetts. 
MINNICK, W. II. - - - Aaronsburg, Pa. 
O'CONNELL, J. C. ... Knoxville/Tenn. 
OFFUTT, GEO. W. - - - Georgetown, D. C. 
O'LEARY, CHAS. W. - - - Frederick, Md. 
PETTEYS, C. V. ... New York. 
SCHLEIMER, DAVID - - - Washington, I). C. 
SEYMOUR, B. S. Pittsburg, Pa. 
STRATTAN, J. T. - - - Strattansville, Pa. 
TUCKER, E. M. - - - Dover, N. II. 
WELLS, G. W. . . _ Havre de Grace, Md. 
YOUNG, P. G. - - - - Washington, D. C. 
HELLER, T. II. - - - - West Virginia. 
MACKALL, J. M. Georgetown, D. C. J J J J 
Twenty-Second Medical) Session,. 1874-72- 
College Tuilding, Corner of Tenth and T Sts., 
WASHIKGTOK, X). C. 
OFFICERS. 
NOBLE YOUNG, M. D., President. 
FLODOARDO HOWARD, M. D., Treasurer. 
JOHNSON ELIOT, M. D., Dean. 
NOBLE YOUNG, M. D., 
FACULTY. 
Professor of Principles and Practice of Medicine, General Pathology, and Medi- 
cal Ethics. 
Professor of Obstetrics and Diseases of Women and Children. 
FLODOARDO HOWARD, M. D., 
JAMES E. MORGAN, M. D., 
Professor of Materia Medica and Therapeutics. 
J. HARRY THOMPSON, M. D., 
Professor of Physiology, Operative and Clinical Surgery. 
CHRISTOPHER C. COX, M. D„ 
Professor of Medical Jurisprudence and Hygiene. 
D. W. BLISS, M. D„ 
Professor of Urinary Pathology and Therapeutics. 
Professor of General and Medical Chemistry. 
W. C. TILDEN, M. D., 
JOHN G. HOLSTON, M. D., 
Professor of Anatomy. 
Warwick Evans, M. D., 
Robertson Howard, M. D., 
Demonstrators. 
G. L. MAGRUDER, M. D., Prosector. 
OSCAR OLDBERG, 
Professor of Pharmacy. 
The regular Course of Lectures will commence October 3, and terminate the 
following March. 
Fees.-For the Full Course of Lectures, $135; Matriculation, $5; Demonstra- 
tor, $10; Graduation, $30. For further particulars address 
JOHNSON ELIOT, M. D., Dean, F St., bet. 6th and 7th.