nd Piorry some years
earlier. Cruveilhier, who died in 1874, is still remembered by his great
work on pathological anatomy; his work on descriptive anatomy has some
things which I look in vain for elsewhere. But where is Civiale,--where
are Orfila, Gendrin, Rostan, Biett, Alibert,--jolly old Baron Alibert,
whom I remember so well in his broad-brimmed hat, worn a little jauntily
on one side, calling out to the students in the court-yard of the
Hospital St. Louis, "Enfans de la methode naturelle, etes-vous tous
ici?" "Children of the natural method [his own method of classification
of skin diseases,] are you all here?" All here, then, perhaps; all
where, now?

My show of ghosts is over. It is always the same story that old men tell
to younger ones, some few of whom will in their turn repeat the tale,
only with altered names, to their children's children.

Like phantoms painted on the magic slide,
Forth from the darkness of the past we glide,
As living shadows for a moment seen
In airy pageant on the eternal screen,
Traced by a ray from one unchanging flame,
Then seek the dust and stillness whence we came.

Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse, whom I well remember, came back from Leyden,
where he had written his Latin graduating thesis, talking of the learned
Gaubius and the late illustrious Boerhaave and other dead Dutchmen, of
whom you know as much, most of you, as you do of Noah's apothecary and
the family physician of Methuselah, whose prescriptions seem to have been
lost to posterity. Dr. Lloyd came back to Boston full of the teachings
of Cheselden and Sharpe, William Hunter, Smellie, and Warner; Dr. James
Jackson loved to tell of Mr. Cline and to talk of Mr. John Hunter; Dr.
Reynolds would give you his recollections of Sir Astley Cooper and Mr.
Abernethy; I have named the famous Frenchmen of my student days; Leyden,
Edinburgh, London, Paris, were each in turn the Mecca of medical
students, just as at the present day Vienna and Berlin are the centres
where our young men crowd for instruction. These also must sooner or
later yield their precedence and pass the torch they hold to other hands.
Where shall it next flame at the head of the long procession? Shall it
find its old place on the shores of the Gulf of Salerno, or shall it
mingle its rays with the northern aurora up among the fiords of
Norway,--or shall it be borne across the Atlantic and reach the banks of
the Charles, where Agassiz and Wyman have taug