less strictly, limited. Passages necessarily omitted have
been restored, and points briefly touched have been more fully
considered. A few notes have been added for the benefit of that limited
class of students who care to track an author through the highways and
by-ways of his reading. I owe my thanks to several of my professional
brethren who have communicated with me on subjects with which they are
familiar; especially to Dr. John Dean, for the opportunity of profiting
by his unpublished labors, and to Dr. Hasket Derby, for information and
references to recent authorities relating to the anatomy and physiology
of the eye.]

The entrance upon a new course of Lectures is always a period of interest
to instructors and pupils. As the birth of a child to a parent, so is
the advent of a new class to a teacher. As the light of the untried
world to the infant, so is the dawning of the light resting over the
unexplored realms of science to the student. In the name of the Faculty
I welcome you, Gentlemen of the Medical Class, new-born babes of science,
or lustier nurslings, to this morning of your medical life, and to the
arms and the bosom of this ancient University. Fourteen years ago I
stood in this place for the first time to address those who occupied
these benches. As I recall these past seasons of our joint labors, I
feel that they have been on the whole prosperous, and not undeserving of
their prosperity.

For it has been my privilege to be associated with a body of true and
faithful workers; I cannot praise them freely to their faces, or I should
be proud to discourse of the harmonious diligence and the noble spirit in
which they have toiled together, not merely to teach their several
branches, but to elevate the whole standard of teaching.

I may speak with less restraint of those gentlemen who have aided me in
the most laborious part of my daily duties, the Demonstrators, to whom
the successive classes have owed so much of their instruction. They rise
before me, the dead and the living, in the midst of the most grateful
recollections. The fair, manly face and stately figure of my friend, Dr.
Samuel Parkman, himself fit for the highest offices of teaching, yet
willing to be my faithful assistant in the time of need, come back to me
with the long sigh of regret for his early loss to our earthly
companionship. Every year I speak the eulogy of Dr. Ainsworth's patient
toil as I show his elaborate preparations: When I