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R. S. KISSAM, A. M. M.  D. 
 
ep tt r r\ n -\ 
 
E  U L O G Y
RICHARD SHARP  KISSAM, A. M., M. D,
READ BEFORE THE
XUto Work ^caiemi) of Mlruicme,
DECEMBER 3d, 1862.
AUGUSTUS KLXSLEY GARDNER, A. M., M. D.
-/
At I
^^•^JX JUL, -kv
        NEW YOKE:
r.  A.  ALVOKD,  PRINTEK
           1863. 
 
EULOGY
   Friendship has its pains and penalties, as well as
 its joys and pleasures !  We who bask in the warm
 rays of the meridian sun7 must also bear the chills
 attendant upon its total absence.
   Some  there  are who, gregarious, find  only their
 pleasures in community—loving only to  share with
 a multitude—one of the thousands  thronging a gay
 assembly;  others,  more solitary and introspective,
 desire only self-consciousness, felicitous in the happy
 possession of a solitary excellence.
   We who possessed the friendship of Dr. Bichard
 Sharp Kissam, possessed  a Kohinoor,  many-sided
 prismatic, sparkling with  glories—hut  not for all.
 Those only saw it who were the first admitted within
 the veil.   Acquaintanceship he had with many, kind
feelings and good wishes  for all, but his friendship
—those who attained to it scarce knew they had it
even while most desirous of it.
  The late lamented John W. Francis and the Nestor 
4
EULOGY.
of American surgery, Valentine Mott, were the most
conspicuous among the few who were honored by his
respect and affection.
   May it be granted to me in fitting language to por-
tray the shining virtues of one of the purest, most
sensitive, best,  of  the members of the New York
Academy of Medicine,  who, having  finished their
work upon earth, do now rest from their labors.
   According to Thatcher (Biography  of  Eminent
American Physicians), the grandfather of Dr. Kiss am
was Benjamin Kissam, a practising lawyer in the city
of New York;  his father, whose name he bore, was
one of the  most distinguished surgeons that ever
blessed this city, and honored the profession of med-
icine by his scientific attainments and labors.   He
was the third of five brothers, and the most  distin-
guished of two who embraced the profession of med-
icine.  He was  himself born  in It03.  He not only
studied in New York, but, matriculating in Edinburgh
—then the leading medical school, if not of Europe,
certainly of the kingdom of Great Britain—he spent
five years in unwearied labors and professional toil.
He received the doctorate in lt89,  when  he pub-
lished his inaugural  dissertation J)c fflieumatismo.
From Edinburgh he repaired  to the continent, from
whence  he  returned to  this  his  native city, com-
mencing practice here in  It91.  For  thirty years he 
EULOOY.
5
 was a most distinguished ornament to the profession,
 and his renown as a surgeon was founded upon the
 promptitude and success  of his operations.   As a
 lithotomist he was particularly celebrated.  It is stated
 that in his sixty-five  operations for the stone, three
 only were fatal.  It is also recorded of him, as an ex-
 traordinary performance, that " at an early period of
 his practice he had recourse to tapping  for dropsy of
 the  ovarium with success.  In one case  nearly  six
 quarts of water were drawn off; the patient  after-
 ward s proved  pregnant, and became the mother of
 five  children."   Upon the formation of the medical
 faculty of Columbia College, he was appointed, and
 declined  the honor of,  Professor  of Botany.   For
 thirty years he  was a  surgeon  of the New  York
 Hospital.   He  died October, 1822, in the 59th year
 of his age.  To a mind admirably adapted by nature
 for the practice of his profession, clear, acute and saga-
 cious, he united a firmness of nerve  which was equal
 to the urgency and  magnitude of any  undertaking.
   Such are some of the characteristics of the father,
 and, no doubt, such professional excellencies were in-
 centives to the  son, following in the same path, bear-
ing his name, and inheriting many of his characteris-
tics.   He was born in Fulton Street in the city of New
York, October 2d, 1808.   But few particulars of his
early life are now known, and these have been dili- 
6
eulogy.
gently gathered with friendly solicitude, and incor-
porated in a biographical sketch, by Dr. Samuel W.
Francis, and may be found in the American Medical
Times for December 14th, 1861.  I can hope to add
but little to this exhaustive summary.  At an early
age he was placed under the charge of Rev. Mr. Hunt-
ington, from whose care he was transferred to a school
at South Farms, Connecticut.   At another period he
was at school in Tappan, New Jersey, distinguished as
being the place of  the confinement, trial and execution
of Andre.   The quiet serenity of this country town,
which, in its obscurity, seems  to be ignorant of the
existence of the great heart of American commerce,
pulsating with the circulation of the New World, but
a few miles distant, together with the historic associ-
ations of the place, exerted an influence of some im-
portance over the future man.  Often  in our friendly
conversations has he referred to those  days.
  About the year 18*24, the name of Richard  Sharp
Kiss am was inscribed upon the matriculating list
of Union College, Schenectady, New York, then pre-
sided over  by Dr. Mott.   Here he remained  but  a
single year,  when he was transferred to Washington
(now Trinity) College, Hartford, Connecticut, during
the presidency of Dr. Bkownell.  He did not,  how-
ever, complete his collegiate course, but in 18*27  com-
menced the  rigorous study of medicine in the office 
EULOGY.
i
of Dr. Mason F. Coos well, of Hartford.  How well
the young student availed himself of the distinguished
abilities of his teacher, and the opportunities for ob-
servation from his association with Dr. Todd, physician
of the Retreat for the Insane, may be judged by his
graduating thesis on Iritis, in 1830, presented to the
professors of  the College of Physicians and Surgeons,
New York.   This monograph, although written more
than thirty years since, is  still fresh and up to the
times, as it was then  in  advance of his age.  Many
of the novel views then first propounded, are  still
questiones -vexatce among the ophthalmologists of the
present time.  This paper was printed  by the Harp
ers, and deservedly receiving no little  attention, Dr.
Kissam founded an Eye and Ear Infirmary in Hart-
ford, where he first  established himself, which was
ever full, and large numbers of patients came to con.
suit  him for diseases of these organs, from the most
remote  states of the Union as well as  from  the vi-
cinity.  At this time he became town physician, a posi-
tion of both profit and honor.  Here, too, he married
a lady  of this town, Miss Julia Maria Cooke, with
whom he lived happily, and who now,  with one son
and  three  daughters, lives  to deplore  his loss.   He
there united  himself to  the  First  Congregational
Church.
  In 1834, becoming dissatisfied  with the narrow 
8
eulogy.
limits of a small town, and also, feeling an antipathy
to the practice of a specialty,  in which  his general
practice  seemed destined to end, and which was also
lucrative in more than an  ordinary degree, he deter-
mined to leave Hartford for a larger field of  opera-
tion.  The failing health of his cousin, Daniel White-
head Kissam, M. D., and  who  urged his coming to
New York  and taking his business—furthered  this
desire.   He accordingly removed hither, and settled
in Chambers Street, where he  immediately  entered
upon an extended  practice,  his pecuniary  receipts
amounting to $5,000 the first year.   The cares of a
general practice did not prevent his investigation of
eye diseases, and in 1838 he performed successfully
the difficult operation of transplantation  of the  cor-
nea.  (See Report in New York Journal of Medicine,
March; 1844,  and Walton's Operative Ophthalmic
Surgery,  p. 381.)
  The present medical condition of Bellevue Hospital
is known to  all, and New York may well point to this,
its main  pauper hospital, with a just pride, as among
the most extended, best arranged, and most ably con-
ducted institutions in the world.  But few, however,
of those here  present can remember its condition
twenty years since.   Contracted in space, wanting in
cleanliness, its nurses mainly composed of convalescent
women of the town, and others committed for small 
EULOGY.                    9
 crimes ; its physicians successful politicians, appointed
 for the fees to be obtained, and with so little regard
 for professional abilities that scarcely one of reputable
 attainments  can be mentioned among its later  in-
 cumbents—our  esteemed ex-president, Isaac  Wood,
 being a  notable exception, with some few others—
 while to ignorance some added a persistent intem-
 perance.   Its mortality was unprecedented.  Such
 statistics, when  any were kept, were never equalled
 upon this continent.
   Dr. Kissam's  tenderness of heart, sense of justice,
 and professional pride, could not look upon this state
 of things unmoved.  He took the initiative, and called
 frequent meetings of medical men at his  own house,
 to consider and  to devise some plan to effect a thor-
 ough reform.  This was no  easy task, for  it took
 away lucrative offices which had long been prizes for
 successful political partisans.
   After  long deliberation, it was  deemed  best  to
 petition the commissioners of  the alms-house to effect
 the desired changes.   Among the papers of the late
 Dr. Kissam I find, in his own handwriting, the oriod-
 nal  draft  of this  petition, dated June  5th, 1844,
 which was circulated among the profession for signa-
 tures.  It commences  by " Objections to  the present
 plan," and  says  " that  the number of sick persons in
the hospital  proper, in the lying-in ward, and in the
     2 
10
EULOGY.
Aims-House, averages about four hundred.  These are
under the immediate care of the resident physician,
who commits them to six assistants.  These assistants
are very young men, whose object  in  going to the
establishment is to learn their profession.
   " Now it is a well established fact that each of these
assistants has the sole care of from fifty to one  hun-
dred patients, and that, too, immediately upon  their
entrance into the hospital, and frequently make  their
very first prescription there.  Is it right that inexpe-
rience should be intrusted with disease in its severest
form?  Is it  humane?   Is it just?   Is it  proper?
Even if called upon, the resident physician cannot visit
daily each patient.   The greatest physician who ever
existed could not visit one-half  and do them justice.
   " But more than this  is required of  the  resident ;
he has the superintendence of sick children at the
Farms, of the  Insane Asylum,  and of the  diseased
committed to the Penitentiary.   Need more be said
to prove the absolute necessity of a  medical reform C
   This paper, from  which I have quoted  the above
paragraph for its historic date, goes on to propose
 measures for  reform, and  among  them, as  a leading
 feature, the organization of a staff  of  six physicians
 and six surgeons.  This plan, after a somewhat pro-
 longed contest and  after considerable  political wire-
 pulling, was  entirely successful, and the model hos- 
EULOGY.
11
pital of Bellevue,  with its staff of  officers and its
working organization, is now unequalled  in extent,
efficiency, and results.  This sprang from  the labori-
ous efforts of our late fellow, whose premature death
we now deplore.
   Somewhere about the year 1840, Dr. Kissam oper-
ated  for the radical cure of ovarian  dropsy by the
large incision.  I have found the case fully written
out, in the clear, distinct style of the writer, free from
hyperbole, and not too succinct for a full comprehen-
sion of the subject.  The case is without further date
than that the operation was on the 5th, and that the
patient died on the 13th, from inflammation, apparent-
ly coming on on the eighth day.   The whole  amount
evacuated was fifty-six pounds.  The  ligature passed
around the blood-vessels of the pedicle was of "leather
cut close to the knot and left for absorption.  The
base of the tumor was secured by a thread  ligature
passing out of the wound."   This  operation at the
time it was performed was one undertaken  by none
except by surgeons  of nerve and skill, and  of such
reputation as could stand the consequences of the
very  probable death of the patient.   I cannot find
that the case has  been published, although the notes
are complete, as if for that purpose.
  About this time, too, Dr. Kissam entered upon med-
ical teaching.  A circular now before me (dated Oct. 
12
EULOGY.
20, 1843) announces the establishment of a private
medical school at 654 Broadway, entrance upon Bond
street, and in the rear of his residence.   It states
"that the winter season will commence  on the  first
Monday of November, and continue through Febru-
ary.   Examinations  will be  held  every evening of
the week on
  " Theory and Practice, by Charles A. Lke, "M. D.
  Anatomy,             by William Darling. Al. D.
  Chemistry,            by James K. Chilton, \L D.
  Obstetrics,            by William C. Roberts. M. D.
  Materia Medica,      by Charles A. Lee, M.  I>.
  Surgery,             by Richard S. Ki—am. M.  1)."
  Fee for the whole of the above  course £20.
  Practical anatomy $10.   Lectures on various topics
are also announced.
  The next winter I find no  notice of the school, but
medical instruction  is given in the same locality by
Drs. Kissam  and Quackenuoss, and in 1845 Dr.  Kis-
sam announces a course of lectures on  surgery, free
to all medical students, to be delivered daily from the
first of November to  March, at "his lecture-room;1
At this time he was elected  Professor of Surgery to
the Cnstleton Medical  College, with a salary of $1,000
for the course of lectures.  This  sum, with  the fees
for professional  services always attendant upon a city
physicians temporary visit into the interior, added to 
KULOOY.
13
the necessary increase of reputation, was some induce-
ment  to  Dr. Kissam for its acceptance; but the loss
to his own  practice, necessarily attendant upon his
absence for  four months, together with a  constant
hoarseness, increasing painfully upon prolonged speak-
ing, and always interfering with his efforts as a pub-
lic  speaker; upon  reflection, notwithstanding that
the course of lectures had been fully written out, in-
duced him  to forego the advantages of this honor-
able opportunity.
   Xot idle, however, the doctor  used  his leisure in
preparing a " Xurses' Manual,'1 which met with suc-
cess, but is now out of print.
   In  1842 Dr. Kissam perfected an instrumental chair
for the treatment of spinal diseases, which, however
great was its excellence and advance upon  previous
knowledge,  has since been superseded by more recent
discoveries.   I allude to it mainly for the purpose of
showing the mechanical  character of his mind, with-
out which the sphere of the  surgeon is greatly limit-
ed.   The thought given to the subject is evident from
a series of papers upon the Nature and Treatment of
Spinal Diseases, published in the New Yorh Lancet
for 1842.
   In  1845, Dr. McAuley, in a card to his  patients,
stated that his health  was such  as to prevent him
from  attending  to  his professional calls, and  recom- 
14
EULOGY.
mended " Dr. Kissam  as a physician in whom they
may repose entire confidence."
  In 1847  Dr. Kissam was  appointed the  Medical
Examiner of the Connecticut Mutual Life Insurance
Company (New York Agency) which responsible
position he held till his death.  The flourishing con-
dition of this institution is in no slight degree owing
to his  perspicacity and professional skill.  In  1850
the honorary degree  of A.  M. was  conferred upon
him by his old alma  mater, Trinity.  The honorary
LL. D.'s have been  sprinkled about upon those less
worthy, and less erudite.
  In 1854  he was appointed consulting surgeon  to
the New York  Infirmary for indigent  women ain}
children, and the managers of this beneficent institu-
tion, in their annual report, " while  expressing  their
regret at his loss, gratefully acknowledge the steady
kindness and skill of  the services which  he  so long
rendered the institution in that capacity.11
  Dr. Kissam joined this Academy among the earliest
of its members, was for many years the chairman  of
its  Board of Trustees, and  represented it at one  or
more of the meetings  of the  National Medical Con-
vention.
  We  have thus sketched the public career of our
departed fellow.  This was short, and little conspic-
uous, for, modest in his estimate of himself, naturally 
EULOGY.
15
retiring,  avoiding rather than  seeking  conspicuity,
his affectionate nature developed itself in the sanctity
of his  own home, and in the bosom  of families of a
nature akin to his own, who found  in  him the pu-
issant physician and the genial, sympathizing friend.
   Brief, however, as is the record of his public actions,
more curt  still must be the summary of his home life.
In it there are no startling incidents,  scarce any thing
to interrupt the account of a placid life, hallowed by
domestic joys.  A  congenial wife was there, ready
with heartfelt sympathy to foster every  plan of duty
or pleasure ; and children, whose personal beauty, ami-
able, affectionate  dispositions and cultivated minds,
sweetened every toil, dissipated corroding cares, and
nerved the weary to fresh exertion.   This routine  of
daily joys  was broken only in a few  instances.   The
death of an infant son, Busiknell Kissam, in 1839, was
the  first interruption to his domestic felicity ;  but  a
heavier  blow was experienced in the decease  of his
eldest son, R. S. Kissam, Jr., a young man,  in person
markedly resembling his father, and of many individ-
ual  excellencies, promising to develop into a notable
manhood.  After a short illness he died in Paris, whith-
er he had gone to finish his medical education.  From
this stroke the father never recovered, while its imme-
diate effect was  remarkable.   His black, curly hair,
from thence became  sprinkled  with  silver, he stood 
16
EULOGY.
less erect, and his peculiar  step  became less secure
and steadfast.  Men said that he was breaking, but it
was at the heart that the first giving way was effected.
It was after this  period that  my own intimate ac-
quaintance commenced.
   Previous  indeed to  that, I  had seen  him  and
listened  to  his infrequent,  brief, but  always point-
ed remarks  at the Academy, for, perhaps owing to a
slight indistinctness in his  utterance, he spoke but
rarely.   I Mas unusually deceived by his appearance.
He had  a bright, dark  eye and  clean-cut features.
He was  exquisitely neat in  his attire and elegant in
his manners.  Doctors are not apt to be such finished
gentlemen,  nor was such courtesy  frequent in the
Academy.  He was so handsome and of such a del-
icate type of  manly beauty, that in my  prejudice I
imagined him weak.   I  could  not   have  been more
mistaken.   I  never was  so  deceived in my  estimate
of a man.   Subsequent opportunities for an  intimate
study of his  character and attainments, altered my
 views, and I  question if, as a general practitioner of
both medicine and surgery, he had a superior in the
 city.  I  certainly  do not know  of one.  Well read in
 the literature of his  profession, skilled  in  the arts
 of diagnosis, fertile  in  resources,  quick in  observa-
 tion, rapidly  grasping the  salient  points, studiously
 and  thoroughly  noting  the  details, cool in temper, 
EULOGY.
IV
steady in nerve, no man brought better resources to
the bedside of the afflicted.   He knew that he knew
what he knew; and more important still, he knew
that he did not know what he  did not know.
   Condensed and deficient  as  is this sketch of the
personal peculiarities of our late fellow, I cannot re-
frain from  alluding more  distinctly to that most dis-
tinguishing feature in his character, already hinted at,
which acted as the balance-wheel of his whole life.
The ever-living, extreme sensitiveness of Dr. Kissam,
acute to a degree rarely witnessed, was conspicuously
present in  every act, and  this was no morbid devel-
opment.  It  was  based  upon  simple honesty, and
that rule, so easily committed by the lips, so hard to
be learned by heart:  " To do to others as we would
that  they  should  do  to  us."   It was this  simple
rule, rooted into the life, that prevented a man of nat-
urally strong feelings from ever speaking injuriously
of another from the ambition of office, "when there are
so many better capable of filling it than I," as he more
than once said to  me when  speaking of dignities in
this Academy.  It is this precept, so simple, yet so
hard  to learn, so important  as to be deemed alone
worthy of  the mission of the Son of God to his be-
loved children of earth—that now renders the honest
lips of  the members of this  Academy, his associates
in our notoriously quarrelsome profession, incapable
     3 
18
EULOGY.
of saying that their own feelings were ever wounded
by a breath from  his lips, or that they ever heard
him  speak ill of another.  Would to God that we,
one and all, might emulate this so rare excellence!
  During the spring of 1861, his health markedly
failed, and with  weakness of body he became  irri-
table, and the iniquitous proceedings which ushered
in the internecine strife which yet  rages  undimin-
ished, greatly excited him.   He could not read or
speak upon the matter without  great and prolonged
excitement, and  could scarcely  refrain, weak as he
was, from volunteering and offering his time  and
talents to his country.   His only son he sent in his
place, who, when  the father lay upon the sick-bed
and stark in death, at the age of sixteen, was, as a
corporal, gallantly serving his country.
  During the summer he spent  a week in the vicini-
ty of Washington, nursing this son sick with typhus,
and this respite from toil, and the change of air  and
scene, seemed to have exerted a  most beneficial influ-
ence upon him; but  the hopes  thus  encouraged for
a restoration to health, were too speedily forever dis-
sipated;  for on the 22d of Noveniber he was seized
with  typhoid-pneumonia, and  early became  aware
of his critical condition.   Still, not till after he had
visited the most  important of his patients that day,
did he take to his bed and  send for the medical at- 
EULOGY.
19
tendance which his friends (Drs. Aloxzo Clark, A.
K.  Gardner, and  subsequently Valentine Mott)
hastened to render him.  In the progress of this his
final illness,  there was little peculiar.  The disease
did not  advance beyond the congestive stage, but
from its incipiency, great stimulation was found re-
quisite to overcome the prostrating influences of the
malady.   He died at noon  on the 28th.
  Some of the incidents of that death-bed are worthy
of record, inasmuch as they exemplify the character
of the individual, the  traits of a true physician and
the hio-hest attributes of humanity.
   Recognizing, from the outset,  the serious character
of his illness, and conscious that his enfeebled con-
stitution would illy resist severe disease, particularly
if prolonged, he unconsciously, perhaps even to him-
self, accepted his condition with resignation.  Not to
any but  to his wife and daughter did  he  mention
even the possibility of  the disease being fatal, or make
any reference to  the  coming change of the animal
life to the spiritual one.  To the former he said, on
the day that he was taken ill, that he should not re-
cover.  There seemed only to be a fear of  delirium,
and an  evident  effort to preserve the command of
his intellect unimpaired, and with such success that
up to his last breath he spoke with the utmost correct-
ness.   Soon after his attack there was considerable 
20
EULOGY.
difficulty iii enunciating, and his natural indistinctness
of articulation  was so increased, that even  to the
most attentive  ears of loved ones familiar with his
tones, his meaning was often lost.   It was painful,
when during the last twenty-four hours the death-
rattle made  his  imperfect articulation  observable
even to himself, it was painful to hear him patiently
spell the doubtful words, devoting to each letter one
of his few remaining  breaths  and a perceptible por-
tion of his little  remaining strength.
  The ever-present consideration for  the feelings of
others, and the untiring willingness  to submit to any
personal inconvenience in order to please, how much
more to materially benefit, those near and dear to
him, was exemplified  in Dr. Kissam, when death had
already seized him with  his  icy grasp, and of this I
record  an illustration.   His eldest  daughter,  sum-
moned  by the  telegraph, had arrived, and anxiously
had suggested, that some thick gum-water, prepared
in a certain manner, and which had  often relieved her
own children rattling with  a croupy cough, might
do  some good.   Knowing  the extreme difficulty Dr.
Kissam experienced in swallowing, and the absolute
inertness of  the  proposed  draught,  I had said as
much ;  but the loving daughter, hoping against  hope,
turned  to her gasping father, with overflowing  eyes,
and said, "Won't you try  it,  father 2"   Upon  re- 
EULOGY.
21
ceiving an answer of assent, she  hurried from the
room to prepare it, when  the doctor turned as if to
apologize to me for overruling my decision, and said,
" It is perfectly useless, but it will please Julia," and
when it was prepared, with a great effort he raised
himself upon his elbow, seized the cup with a trem-
ulous hand, and  after repeated efforts drank its con-
tents.  What a contrast to the animosity, malignant
spirit or sullen indifference marking the last hours of
some ! And such actions were the habit of his life, not
the accidental promptings of an evanescent emotion!
   Two nights before  his  death, deeply interested in
the fate of the nation, he asked me the news.  Feeling
that absolute quiet of both mind and body was all-
important, I  briefly gave him a summary of some
skirmish  reported in  the  evening papers, sayino-
to him, as I left, that with  this condensed account
he might rest quiet until  the  morning brought par-
ticulars ; but he  spent two hours,  till one a. m.  for
himself reading the more extended account in the
Po«t.
   Dr. Kissam  watched his  own case with the  same
careful observation which he  manifested throughout
his professional career.  During the night before his
death, he sought with tremulous finger and ill-direct-
ed hand, to feel his own pulse, and noted its rapid,
irregular  and  feeble beatings; raised  his  hands, al- 
22
EULOGY.
ready damp and cold with the chill of death, to his
dimmed eyes, noted the blueness of the nails, and said
to me, " I shan't last  more than  an hour."  Several
hours later, after being revived by increasing amounts
of stimulants, he  repeated this self-examination and
feebly articulated, " I was mistaken this morning, but
I shall be dead in half an hour."  Shortly after Dr.
Mott came in, he recognized him, and we retired for
a short time.   When we returned, he was tranquilly
lying upon one side, and I said, " Dr.  Mott  thinks it
desirable for you to take some carbonate of ammonia;
are you willing to do so V   He opened his eyes, said
" yes."   Dr. Mott immediately turned, left the  room
and descended to the ground-floor,  I following.   We
had scarcely reached it, when a sudden  scream that
" father is  dead," speedily recalled us.   It was so,
and thus calmly and rapidly was the  transition from
time to eternity accomplished.
  The subsequent special meeting of this Academy,
called to take action upon the death of one of its chief
officers, the resolutions adopted, the attendance in a
body at his funeral, are duly chronicled in its proceed-
ings.  Few who were then present, will  ever forget
the church, crowded  Avith his friends and his  late
patients, with tear-filled eyes looking  their last upon
him through whose skill and devotion they had been
in past years kept from the grave, whither they were 
EULOOY.
23
now about to conduct him, and by us, his associates
in the profession and this  Academy, who  in  solemn
procession had followed  his  remains through the
streets—whose  Sabbath  stillness was disturbed by
the clatter of our footsteps—and up the  long-draAvn
aisle, while the organ  sounded the  requiem of the
dead.
   The  affectionate father, the esteemed  friend, the
cherished physician, the erudite  scholar, the upright
man, our honored felloAV, has gone before us.  He
whose facile pen but so lately described the last ill-
ness of his friend, our late  honored  President, Dr.
Jonx* W. Francis, and A\Tiose lips, from this desk, ut-
tered those words of affection, now, in turn, requires
the same services from another.  Fortunately, his own
spotless life, running through  more than fifty years,
unsullied  by an unfriendly, unprofessional, irreligious
act, supplies the deficiencies of the appointed eulogist.
When our books shall  be  written  up, and we haA^e
gone to our great account, may our friends find as
few  blots, as few entries upon the wrong side, Avhich
we Avould, then  too late, gladly  erase, and may the
trial-balance stand as assured before the All-Seeing
Eye.
      Stat sua cuique dies, breve et irreparabile tempus.
      Omnibus est citca / sedfamam extcndere fact is.
      Hoc virtutis opus. 
tiff


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