r^'--^ Pi! to v.. •;u VALEDICTORY ADDRESS TO THE 'fejT* icO MEDICAL CLASS AND GRADUATES OF THE i %3 INDIANA MEDICAL COLLEGE, (Laporte University,) ($*i At the Public Gmtmmc&tttBliT, February 19, 1848. BY A. B. SHIPMAN. M, D. PROFESSOR OF THE PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF SURGERY IN THE INDIANA MEDICAL COLLEGE, ETC. ETC. u PUBLISHED BY REQUEST OF THE CLASS. SYRACUSE: BARNS, SMITH & COOPER, PRINTERS, FOURTH STORY GRANGER BLOCK. ISIS. y*.^;^^dddddd^ v^f¥ 'B^Fd^d^ rcta^ />< VALEDICTORY ADDRESS TO THE MEDICAL CLASS AND GRADUATES INDIANA MEDICAL COLLEGE, (Laporte University,) At the Public Commencement, February 19, 1848. > BY A. B. SHIPMAN, M. D., PROFESSOR OF THE PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF SURGERY, IN THE INDIANA MEDICAL COLLEGE. PUBLISHED BY REQUEST OF THE CLASS. SYRACUSE: DARNS; SMITH & COOPER, PRINTERS. 1S4S Indiana Medical College, Feb. 18, 1848. Prof. Shipman—Dear Sir : At a meeting of the Graduating Class, held this morning, in the Medical College, Z. T. Slater was called to the Chair, and C. Hard appointed Secretary. Whereupon it was unanimously Resolved, That a Committee be appointed to solicit for publication a copy of your very able and appropriate Valedictory Address, de- livered last evening. Permit us to add, that in compliance with the wishes of the Class, you will enable us to place before the public a production which will reflect honor upon yourself, and credit to the Institution with which you are connected. With the highest respect, we subscribe ourselves, Yery truly yours, &c, A. H. MOORE, A. B., Mich., G. W. LEE, Wisconsin, D. W. CASS, Ohio, R. R. STEERE, R I., L. WALLIS, Indiana, S. F. BONNEY, Mo. A. J. KINNE, Illinois. C. Hard, Secretary. Z. T. SLATER, Chairman. Indiana Medical College, ) Laporte, Feb.20, 1848. \ Gentlemen :—I received your note last evening, in behalf of the Class of the Indiana Medical College, soliciting a copy of my Vale- dictory Address for publication. In answer, I would respectfully i :- form the Committee, that so soon as I can prepare the manuscript it is at their disposal. Be pleased to accept my wannest wishes for your health and prosperity, and believe me cordially yours, A. B. SHIPMAN. Messrs. A. H. Moore, A. B., and others of the Committee. f i i ADDRESS. Gentlemen :—A few weeks since we assembled in this place to pursue the study of the various branches of Medical Science—you to receive my colleagues and self to teach each his individual department of instruction; and as we are about to separate for our several homes, in far distant places, I could scarcely forego the opportunity of address- ing, for the last time, to many of you, and in spending a brief half hour in reviewing the past course of Lectures. My colleagues have assigned me this duty, and of giving you the parting word of friendship and advice, before we separate for- ever. I need not repeat to you, we came together as strangers; and that we part as friends, I am too well assured, from the kind indulgence and the gentlemanly attention I have received at your hands. No single cause has arisen to interrupt the harmony, or mar the pleasure, for a moment, of our social intercourse. In the course of our travels together, you may have observed times and seasons when the over-tasked brain labored heavily; when the machinery of mind worked hard and laborious- ly; when darkness would at times obsGure the mental horizon, or the pure stream of intellect be- come turbid and foul as troubled waters. There are days when the mind of man is weak and pow- erless, or that of an infant. fj When mental imbecility, like some prostrating weakness, ties down the faculties with its strong bands; when an incubus sits upon our fancy, and weighs down the spirits with its leaden power; when some Letlieon influence seems to have steep- ed our memory in utter forget l\ilness; when a dark and cloudy veil appears interposed between our powers of recollection ; when the sunshine of hope deserts us. and we lie powerless on a "dead sea shore," with the fruit of knowledge turned to bit- terness and ashes. And why should it not be thus? The mind has its analogies and its like- nesses in things of nature. The sea has its dead calms, its gentle hearings, and its stormy billows. The Heavens its still, murky atmosphere, its soft breezes, and its stormy winds and hurricanes. The seasons have their mild spring airs, the fervid sum- mer heats, and the cold frosts of winter. There is scarcely any thing in nature but has its contrasts and changes. The tide has its ebbings and flow- ings; the moon her waxings and waitings; the river its rise and fall. The strong man has his hours of weakness; the eagle has his seasons of moulting, when he may be powerless to reach his lofty eyrie on the mountain's top. The Poet has his days when his fancy " droops like some wild- born Falcon with clipped wing," and refuses to rise above earth. The Orator finds his soul-stirring eloquence has forsaken him; the Astronomer closes his Telescope in despair—his eye cannot discern the far-distant planet he is searching after. Every giant has some season of weakness; every Samp- son some Delilah to deprive him of his locks. But if man has his days of darkness and mental < debility, he also has those of an opposite charac- ter, when the mind is clear, and the ready word is always at hand. Strong in his confidence, he is sensible of imparting to others what he so clearly feels within his own power. If to-day you fail to satisfy yourself, to-morrow you will go far beyond. If your Teachers are liable to such hours of mental gloom and obscurity, why may we not suppose that the pupil has his weaknesses and seasons when he 4 fails to appreciate the question to-day he so readily comprehended yesterday? When the powers of recollection and memory refuse to come at his bid- ding ; when the tongue, incapable of forming the ready language, to clothe the obscure idea, and the wrong word will intrude upon the right; wThen the confidence falters and halts, and cowers with fear to-day, when to-morrow you wonder at your stu- pidity? All this you have felt at times and sea- sons, and we who know the fact, appreciate the difficulty. A gentleman may be well qualified m every de- partment of our art, and yet you summon him be- fore a Board for his final examination, and where " is all his ready wit ? his well-stored mind ? Where his manly confidence and self-possession? He feels as if some wizzard wand had been waved over him, or his senses steeped in some stupifying agent. In vain he tries to shake off the paralyzing influ- ence that is creeping over his faculties; or when he least expects it, he may find his intellect preter- naturally bright and ready. What was before crude, disjointed, and obscure, now comes out in strong relief, and flows from his mind in clear and harmonious order. 8 We find so great and striking a difference in Medical Students, and their faculty of answering questions, that I have long ceased to view it as the only test of the ability and scientific qualification of the candidate. One has all his stores of know- ledge at his tongue's end, ready to give up at a moment's warning. Another may be profoundly learned, but his stores of learning are where they do not avail him in his hour of need. The one is like ready money, always at hand; the other as ► riches locked fast and stowed deeply away in some strong vault, or out on bond and mortgage, with a distant payday. This same faculty may be carri- ed out into the practice of the profession, and in- fluence the destiny for good or for evil through life. The ability to pass a good examination more ge- nerally depends on the early training of the mind, by the one who has charge of the education of youth. The fault, if fault it may be called, lies too often at the door of the Medical Preceptor. Far am I from censuring the truly intelligent and sci- entific members of our art, for they are excusable from their peculiar situation and circumstances. But to the gentlemen composing this class, I would respectfully advise before we part, to ponder well on what you have seen and heard during the past winter. We separate widely, each to his home and occupation; some to read over what he has heard, others to engage in practice, with a view of return- ing here and completing their Medical education some future season. Where two or more of you are in one office, I would suggest, that you, by turns, examine and catechize each other daily, af- ter the hours of reading is past. Reading alone 9 will never qualify you for an examination; you must think, and that, too, correctly, and clothe your thoughts with form and feature, and give them ap- plication and utterance. Read, carefull, yover the several branches you have heard and had demon- strative evidence of their vital truths. You have had ample demonstration of the value of chemis- try in revealing, with almost magic power, what all else was powerless to accomplish. You have seen a human stomach in a state of far advanc- ed decomposition, yield up the mighty secret of its "prison house," and by the talismanic touch of chemical science, write the crime of murder in letters of fire. What other power could extort the fatal secret?* You have witnessed a sub- stance, made in the labratory of this College, ca- pable of soothing the pain of an operation, and a Nepenthe, producing exemption from the keenest woe.f How astonishing are the results of Chem- istry! From the time the immortal Franklin stood on the shores of the Schuylkill, calm in the strength of conscious power, watching the rising cloud, with the eye of a Philosopher, and fearless- ly soliciting an interview with the forked thunder- bolt, to the present time, Chemistry has advanced with the strides of a giant, and is now assuming that importance it truly demands. I have often tried to imagine what could have been the thoughts and feelings of this great man, at this time; and ~™ u; Twfnr Avspnic where an individual was supposed to * Marsh's Test ^J*^™^^ four months after burial, be poisoned ^lth ar/e"^" Jsenic from a solution of the stomach, 5&2f X EX? rW" -a piece of ^'^by burning the arseniated hydrogen gas. f Chloroform. 10 when, afterwards, he stood before a Committee of the House of Lords, and asserted the new and as- tounding doctrine, that man was created free and equal, and denied the divine right of Kings; when a storm of obliquy Avas poured on his head; but calm as when the lightnings of Heaven were play- ing around him, he hurled defiance in the face of royalty, and scathed with his eloquence the min- ions of despotism. The advance of Chemical Science is working out in the Arts, the Sciences, and Mechanical World, the most astonishing changes. The discoveries of Leibig, and others, in Agricultural, Vegetable, and Animal Chemistry, is destined to work most valua- ble and useful results. The application of Steam and the Magnetic Telegraph, together, must revo- lutionize the whole world, morally, politically, and religiously. The man who should have made the assertion, twenty years ago, that a person, travel- ing from Boston to New Orleans, would be able to enquire into the health and condition of his fami- ly every morning, and receive an answer to his enquiry in a few minutes—would be able to talk familiarly as to their sickness, their health, and, if a Physician, to write a daily prescription, and be informed of its effects, would have been pronounc- ed a madman, a fool, or an impostor; and yet such is or will be the case soon, and a vast deal more marvellous and astonishing. The art of transferring the form and features of an individual to a metallic plate, or even to paper, owes its existence to the laws of Chemical Science, and is one of the most delicate and philosophical operations in nature. The part which Chemistry 11 plays in the preparation of medicines of the Physi- cian, is an object of vital importance, and no one is prepared to practice successfully without its as- sistance. I would recommend, that the ensuing summer you would procure a few retorts, a spirit-lamp, a few Florence flasks, and a cheap condensing appa- ratus, and whenever you can do so, devote a por- tion of your time to Experimental Chemistry. In this way you may combine profit with pleasure, and become'good practical Chemists. To the gen- tlemen who have heard the able Lectures on Ma- teria Medica, I would say, that each and all of you cultivate the study of Botany by treasuring up, in an Herbariam, the rich stores which the magnifi- cent flora of these broad prairies so abundantly abound. This will be a most delightful employ- ment, in which pleasure will walk hand in hand with science; and when in after years you look over the field of your labors, it cannot fail of awakening most delightful reminiscences of your early years. To such of you as go forth intending to practice your profession without a diploma, I would desire to say a few words in the way of advice. I have not the time to dwell on this almost exclusively western custom; its causes, its necessities, its uses or its abuses. Doubtless it has grown out of some peculiar circumstances which are in operation here. Whatever may be the cause that has led you to adopt the course, it cannot remain m operation any great length of time; and I would most ear- nestly advise you to never let a winter pass over 12 your heads without visiting some Medical College, and as soon as you can qualify, in procuring its honors. But I am pained to say, that I have known several examples where the determination, well formed at first, is soon lost sight of. Avarice or selfishness usurps the place of a praise-worthy ambition, until finally the cares and entangle- ments of multiform occupations gradually weave the web of thraldom around him, and he settles down and dies, as he has lived, a Doctor in name, but in reality a quack. The dealing with human life, my young friends, is of too solemn and important a nature to be weighed for a moment, in the scales of avarice or selfishness; and therefore he who neglects to avail himself of all the light and knowledge which sci- ence throws upon disease, and one single patient perishes from such neglect, is morally guilty of the murder of his victim. But few young men of this description remain long without a diploma, and for the most part they are poor in pocket, yet rich in intellectual worth. To the gentlemen composing the graduating class, I would now more especially address my re- 4 marks:—Young gentlemen—you have this day received the first badge of honor which your pro- fession confers upon you. You have passed suc- cessfully and honorably, the ordeal imposed by the laws of this Institution upon you. You have be- come Doctors of Medicine, and are invested with its privileges, its titles, and its honors. It becomes you in time, to confer honor and distinction on your Alma Mater. How will you do this ? I answer, in deporting yourselves at all times, and on all oc' 13 casions, like high-minded, upright and honorable gentlemen! I shall take the privilege of giving such advice and counsel as appears to me, the most fitting and necessary, at the commencement of your professional career. When you have settled in a town where your interest or your inclination dic- tates, you become one of the citizens of the place, and are naturally looked upon with some interest. The eye of the community is on you. Your looks, your walk, your dress, and a thousand other things are noticed, and commented on by the various co- teries and citizens of the town. The motives for employing a new physician, are as various almost as the individuals composing a community. One man selects his family physician, for his moral and religious worth, another perhaps, (and 1 rejoice to say they are few in number,) for the want of these qualities. One class make choice of their physician for his personal appearance, his accomplishments, his dress, his manner; and another for his slovenly, and untidy habits and his uncouth and vulgar ways. One requires that his beau ideal of a physician have the gift of speech to trumpet forth his own praises; another to be silent and taciturn:, weighing each word with care and deliberation. But the great mass of society are governed by correct views in their choice of a physician; if it were not so, the encouragement would be poor indeed for virtuous emulation. There are three things that should always be kept in view by the young Medical Man, and in the Way he views them and practices upon them, much of his future success and prosperity depends. The first, is his duty to his patients. Secondly, his duty 14 to himself and family. And thirdly, his duty to his professional brethren. As to the first, I would say, and enjoin, that you adopt the Golden rule of our Saviour: "To do unto others as you would wisli others to do unto you." This will comprehend your whole duty to your patients, and their friends. You may be treated by your patients in an unrea- sonable and even dishonorable manner,—but you have no right to retaliate upon them, by returning evil for evil, and however difficult it may be to con- trol your feelings, under such circumstances, it is for your interest so to do, and because one has done you wrong, it does not follow that you must do so in return. The ignorance of patients frequently leads them to treat their physician cavalierly, and for this you must make all due allowances, for you are not to suppose, that all will understand the rules of professional etiquette, however much they may know of other matters. One of the most com- mon breaches of faith towards the physician, is the employment of another practitioner, without your being consulted in the matter. But your duty is plain and clear, in such an instance. If the gen- tleman is a man of honor, and a member of regu- lar standing in the profession, you have nothing to fear. He will treat you with courtesy, and endea- vor to do you ample justice. But, if it is a quack that is called, or a man of notoriously bad charac- ter, it is your province, and your duty, to abandon the case to him, and you are absolved from all blame as to the final result. When in attendance upon a critical and dangerous case, do not neglect it, for pleasure, for interest, or for business,—do not neglect to warn the patient or the nearest Iriends, in a timely manner, of the first appearance of threatened danger. It is cruel, coldly, selfish, and unjust to allow a disease to go on to the last stages of dissolution, without a seasonable and suf- ficient warning. It is sometimes proper to with- hold from the patient their personal danger, for fear of an aggravation of their disease, but it is never improper to acquaint the nearest friend, of the amount of danger, that they may shape their course to meet the worst alternative; and in a ma- jority of instances, I am of the belief, that a delicate and prudent manner of breaking the solemn sub- ject to the patient, will be the most judicious, and on the whole, the better course. When one is laboring under a truly dangerous disease, the men- tal faculties in general, so far partake of the physi- cal debility, that a careless apathetic state is most often present, and they experience no shock at the intelligence, and many times, where the sensibilities are morbidly acute, the apprehensions of death, keen, painful and pungent, the intelligence convey- ed to them in a soothing and gentle manner, often allays and tranquilizes the mind in a wonderful manner. . In many dangerous and fatal cases, the internal convictions of the patient are so strong, that all your predictions will never shake his confidence, or destroy his hope. In pulmonary consumption, it is proverbially true that hope brightens as the close of life draws near; and the strong and ardent imagination colors all things with its bright and dazzling hues. In your attendance on those fatal and heartrending scenes, so often met with at the close of life, I would wish to make a few obser- 10 vations. It is too generally the conduct of the physician, to retire from the bed-side of his dying patient, as soon as he finds that the disease is of a fatal character, and that all earthly hope has failed. This is wrong—it is cruel, it is brutal. Our pro- fession as a general thing, has the power of miti- gating and preserving a few years of life, rather than the curing of disease,—if so, how much more imperious is your duty to ward off the fatal dart; to soothe the agony of body and mind, and support by your presence and counsel, the closing scenes > of life. If you can do the dying no good, you may soothe the grief of friends, with your kindness and attention; and they will view you in a more ten- der light, and will remember you longer, and bless jour memory too, and hug you nearer to their hearts, as they recur again and again to the mourn- ful period of your self sacrificing and unselfish conduct If principle and duty will not operate to keep you at the bed-side of the dying and hopeless patient, interest, yes, sordid self interist, if I may so call it, should. Many times, the most apparent ly desperate case will rally at the last.hour, and even live to rise up in judgment against you, a living, breathing commentary on your mistaken and premature decision. Quackery has too often seized hold of scores of this description, and snatch- ed the laurels from the brow of the recreant physi- cian; and held them up to the world as a triumph- ant example of his skill and sagacity. What should we think of that captain of a vessel who, when the storm came, and the frail bark was in danger of be- ing lost, deserts the sinking ship, and takes to the long boat, leaving his imploring passengers, to the 17 mercy of the winds, the rocky shore, and the fear- ful breakers ? No, gentlemen, imitate that noble pilot, who when the ship was on fire, seized the rudder of the doomed vessel, turned its head to the shore, and stood firm and faithful to the wheel, until his arms and his face were charred m ith the fervent heat, and he sunk down, a noble martyr at his post; but he saved the lives of those under his charge; a noble example of heroic devotion. It will become necessary for many of you to de- cide on the propriety of a surgical operation. On this point I wish to speak as one who has had some experience, and to propound a system of ethical reasoning that will assist you in such emergencies. It is often the case that we are obliged to com- pound for life; to sacrifice a portion, to save the whole. To loose a limb, a breast, or a portion, to preserve the whole body. You will be tried and perplexed in the most poignant manner by the ap- peals to your skill and humanity. Never suffer your wishes to operate, or a desire to acquire re- nown and celebrity, as an operating surgeon^, to influence your judgment or your duty. Your discrimination may be defective, then call a wiser or one more experienced to decide. The poor, I fear, suffer more from this kind of martyrdom then others. Their want of means to procure a skillful sur-eon, throws them in the path of some ignorant pretender, who for the sake of a little surgical eclat, dooms them to the knife of the operator. They reluctantly submit to what is urged as a dernier resort, and fall victims to the operation, or remain for life maimed and mutilated wretches. From all such reproaches, if you value your good name, keep 18 clear, and snatch as many brands from the burning of those unprincipled harpies of our profession as you can consistently with your place and opportu- nity. Poverty with its pinching want, its home- less and houseless discomforts, in all conscience is sufficient, without this addition. It requires a higher order of intellect to be able to cure and save a limb, than the removal of many. A small amount of mechanical skill is all that is required in the mere operator. But should an unholy de- sire ever enter your head, to mutilate some unfor- tunate wretch, for mere seljish purposes, pause and ponder deeply on the step you are about taking. Place your nearest and dearest friend in his situa- tion, your wife, your child, or even your own dear self, and then make your decision. The necessity for an operation is at all times a mournful commen- tary on the imperfection of our art; a tacit con- fession of our ignorance in the cure of disease. Why then feel so proud and arrogant of an act that should clothe us with humility at our want of knowledge and skill to save ? The relation between physician and patient is one of sacred and invoidable confidence; you are their nearest and dearest friend; in you, the family have a friend, and often a counsellor in things more dear and holy, than any earthly treasure. Be cau- tious how you abuse or impose upon that confi- dence in thought, word or deed. Be the kind ad- viser, the fatherly protector, and they will learn to love and bless you, and make you the soother of their sorrows, and the happy sharer of their inno- cent joys. The situation of family physician, gives 19 you great power and influence, and base and wicked men have used this advantage for the vilest of purposes. It is truly a mournful thing to find one of the noblest and most heaven-born professions used as the vehicle of the foulest dishonor. That man who is capable of carrying his profession about with him, for purposes of corruption, would do a deed of darkness, that would put the blush of shame on the cheek of Satan. Be moderate and reasonable in your charges, especially to those who earn their bread by the sweat of their brow. To the poor be liberal, and never ask from them what would be difficult to pay, or abridge the comforts of their family. From the clergy and their families, receive no pecuniary compensation; their influence if proper- ly directed, will cancel the debt; besides, their income is generally so limited, as to make a pro- tracted sickness a serious thing. The families of physicians it is customary to visit professionally, without fee or reward; but there may be instances, where they live at a dis- tance, and are in good circumstances, a fair remu- neration for your trouble may be expected. On the subject of dress, I would merely remark: that a decent regard to the opinions of the world, should lead you to dresses gentlemen not m aping the fashions, or making it a matter of much study, but affect no singularity of costume or manner to draw the popular eye, or cause any popular remark. What is of far more importance, is personal clean- liness This you owe to the sick at least, who are in many respects, extremely fastidious in any thing 20 that may offend the eye, the ear, or the nostrils. A ragged, dirty, slovenly doctor, is a walking pesti- lence, and may disseminate far and wide more real contagion, than twenty others are capable of curing. Avoid all dirty disgusting habits, as smoking, chew- ing or snuffing tobacco, when attending to the sick, especially your female patients—and leave out of the parlor, or the sick room, the pipe, the cigar, the snuffbox. When attending in times and seasons of pesti- lential diseases, safety requires you to be exceed- ingly careful by change of dress, and proper atten- tion, your spreading far and widej. fatal seeds of the disease and death. A disregard of these important precepts, has cost many a valuable life, and what makes it more singularly mournful is, that the same hand which sows the fatal poison, is the one which was looked to for relief. The duty of a physi- cian to himself and family, may be summed up in a very few words. If you'are faithful, indus- trious, and economical, you will in a few years obtain that competence in worldly riches, that con- fers more real happiness than bloated pompous wealth or sordid griping avarice. So certain as you become eminent and distinguished, so sure also is it in your power to become wealthy. One follows the other as cause and effect, but no one should make his profession the instrument of extortion, or use it in the way of sordid gain. It was never designed to make Merchandize of the Medical pro- fession, or enter into competition with the various trades and huxterings of the day. The Temple of Esculupius stood far from the spot " where mer- chants most do congregate", « nor was it ever made 21 to be the abode of money changers," or surround- ed by the busy hum of the sons of traffic and com- merce. He who worships at the shrine of Mammon, or bows the knee to the god of this world, would do far better to engage in some of the various Mer- cantile operations which surround him. An higher benevolence should dictate your aims, and govern your philanthropy. Your duty to your profession- al brethren would require more time to illustrate, than can be well spared on this occasion. A very few things, however, on matters connected with this subject, will not, I think be misplaced. You are liable to almost daily collisions with every grade of professional attainment, from the well bred, well educated, honest upright man, to the vulgar, course, illiterate boor; from the skillful, scientific practitioner, to the ignorant, uneducated charla- tan. In these collisions, sparks and scintillations of genius will be elicited as the spear, like that of Ithuriel, is thrust forthwith skillful hand. In some, you will find the mind cloudy, thick and turbid, as a stagnant pool. In others, clear, bright and spark- ling, as a mountain spring. This one will treat you open, frank and honora- ble. That one you will find subtle, crafty and dis- honest. This one will respect your character and practice as sacred rights and privileges, with whom you may safely consult and confide. That one will prey like a pirate on your reputation and practice, and stab you assassin-like on all occasions To all this variety of men and character, you must behave as becomes your place and station. You must not oppose to them the same agents, nor beat them with their own weapons. ")0 It does not necessarily follow that dishonesty is to be met with dishonesty, or wrong and injustice opposed by wrong and injustice. You have other resources to fall back upon, and such as the world and your own consciences would applaud and sanc- tion. It may be your duty, and at times an imperi- ous one to expose to contempt, and hold up to scorn and ridicule the ignorant pretender, or the shame- less rogue. But in general, it is not best to soil your hands with such filthy characters, or enter into a combat where victory and triumph would be purchased by your own contamination. Let them alone and they will become their own exe- cutioners, or be smothered and perish in the dust of their own raising. On no account whatever, counsel with a quack, or lend your name to any nostrum, by way of newspaper puffing. Pretend to no secret or specific way of cure. Put forth no pill, powder or compound of medicine for the cure of disease, for it is the rankest quackery, and de- serves severe reprobation. These are only a few precepts that the young man will require to become familiar in the prac- tice of, before he can be ranked as a thorough, re- spectable and accomplished physician. From the nature of your employment, many things will ne- cessarily occur to try, perplex and harrass you. But you must bear in mind, that no situation in life, is exempt from its trials and afflictions. There is no road so smooth, but has its rough and rugged places. No day so fair, but some cloud passes over the face of the sun. The farmer has his cares and anxieties. The seasons may not be propitious for his crops; disease and death may fall on his flocks, 2S l and his herds, "or the Sabeans may come upon them and drive them away." Or a devouring fire may seize on his well stored barns, and de- stroy in an hour, the toil and fruit of months or years. The merchant has his troubles, and those too, of a grave and substantial character. His bills become due, his notes protested, great pecuniary revolutions take place, and sweep over the land like some wild tornado; debtors fail, and rogues abscond, leaving a large unbalanced sheet on the ledger. His family, taught to believe their wealth inex- haustible, have nourished extravagant and spend- thrift habits; he has his credit in danger, which to the merchant, is as precious a jewel, as is the virtue of woman a crown of glory to her sex. Anxiety and sleepless nights blanch his hair, and wrinkle his brow with premature and untimely fur- rows. The lawyer has his full share of worldly troubles; he is compelled to listen to the disgust- ing detail of crime and depravity. To be appealed to by swindlers, villains and sharpers. He is obliged to "make the worse appear the better rea- son," and uphold with his strong eloquence that which his reason and principle condemns. To attam eminence in his profession, he must toil and sweat over dry and barren tomes; and then perhaps, late in life, with a prematurely grey and wrinkled brow, he has attained that lofty eminence, but with an eye so dimmed, and an ambition so chastened, that he sees little beauty in the landscape of life spread out before him. The clergyman has his share of the troubles and tribulations of a world so wicked and corrupt as the one we inhabit. The individu- als of his flock present so great a variety of taste, 24 talent and education, that he fails to please some, while perhaps he offends others. To one class he is too plain and pointed, to others too soothing and mild. One class wish him to scathe the sinner with the fiery eloquence of a Luther or a Paul. An- other to use the mild, persuasive language of a Melancthon or a Wesley. The Statesman and Pol- itician have their full share of vexation, in the hope deferred and the fierce and stormy party strife; in the slander, detraction and defeat that so often befalls the man in public station. The man of ease and leisure, too, has his days and months of ennui; and the imaginary ills that torment and perplex are generally more troublesome and annoying than those of a substantial character. That man who is able to say—" Soul, thou hast much goods laid up in store, for many years, take thine ease, eat, drink and be merry," is not always the happy and on^e contented one that many imagine. That Scripture maxim that doomed man to " earn his bread by the sweat of his face," so far from being a curse is one of the greatest of blessings. The toil that renders the sleep of the laboring " man so sweety is unknown to the idle; and the high health and tranquil enjoyment of the busy and the active, speaks loudly in favor of industry and employment. In this country where every man is the artificer of his own fortune, talent, industry and good charac- ter, do more than the pride of wealth, family, in- fluence, or any other artificial distinction. " The man here who could trace his genealogical tree to the stock of the Plantaganets, would claim no fairer title to honor than another." It is this which ren- 25 ders our free institutions open to merit, and that alone is the touch-stone of success. In conclusion, gentlemen, I would say, go forth upon the stormy ocean of the world, well manned and well provisioned for the voyage. Let reason be your compass, and principle your pilot, and judgment at the helm. Let not the stormy gales of passion tear your canvass, or drive you on a lee shore. Be watchful, be vigilant and sleepless, lest you run on the rocks and shoals of temptation, and wreck your hopes for ever, before you reach your destined haven. Keep your armor bright and shining, prepared for the conflict with the pesti- lence and the destroyer. You know not how soon the destroying Angel, in the shape of some dire epi- demic, as the dread Cholera of India, may travel this way. Already the far-off sound of the wings of this fell power is heard in the distance, and soon perhaps may ovei-shadow the land with its sable pinions. In times of wide-spread calamity and distress, when epidemical disease and death stalk through the land; when men's faces blanch with unmanly fear and terror, as a "strong man armed," lays hold on society; then is the time for you to display your moral strength and courage, and allay, by your fearless example, the public commotion, as oil poured upon a raging and troubled ocean. In the time of the fearful epidemic cholera a few years since, a host of bright names immortalized themselves, by their self-sacrificing devotion to their fellow creatures; and many fell martyrs to heir zealous efforts in the cause of humanity, but heir names and their deeds live in the hearts of their friends, and are enshrined and cherished, as an ho- 26 ly treasure. But sorry am I to confess, that all our brethren were not firm and unshaken by the raging panic that has moved them. Many fled like craven cowards, and scattered over the land like a flock of timid sheep, when the wolf or the panther has broken into the fold. I cannot but let the eye of imagination glance over a long perspective of coming years, and behold this Institution that we all love so well, flourish and grow, until its broad branches have spread far and wide over the land. When you, the sons of our adoption, shall return and seek these quiet shades as pilgrims and votaires to some holy and beloved shrine.