/2
VALEDICTORY
GRADUATING  CLASS
IfljilaMpliia  Snllegj  c!  pjtiiriitt,
SEMI-ANNUAL COMMENCEMENT,
       FEBRUARY 28th, 1856.
HENRY HARTSHORNE, M.D.,
      PROFESSOR OP THE INSTITUTES OF MEDICINE.
PUBLISHED BY THE GRADUATING CLASS.
   PHILAD ELPHI A:

INQUIRER PRINTING OEFICE.

       1856. 
 
                Philadelphia College of Medicine, Jan. 26th, 185G.
  At a meeting of the Graduating Class of the Philadelphia College of
Medicine, held Jan. 26th, 1856, at the College Edifice, at which Wm. H.
Hazzard, of Philadelphia, was  called  to the Chair, and George H. Cooke,
of Philadelphia,  appointed  Secretary, it was, on motion, Resolved, that a
Committee  be appointed by the Chairman, to request Prof. Hartshorne
to transmit to us for publication,  a copy of his Valedictory Address, to be
delivered at the approaching Commencement.
                                             Geo. H. Cooke, Sec'y.


   Dr. H. Hartshorne,
       Dear Sir:
                   The undersigned were, in accordance with the fore-
going, appointed that Committee ; and, in requesting you  to  transmit to
us a copy of your Address, permit us to express the high respect and es-
teem  entertained for you by the Committee and Class.
                                             Truly Yours,
T. M. Bostick,	Georgia.	J. W. HlGNUTT,	Maryland.
W. Bradley,	Penna.	II. Hulshizer,	K. Jersey.
J. 0. Burnett,	Penna.	S. P. KlRKBRIDE,	N. Jersey.
G. II. Cooke,	Penna.	II. H. G. Lunoren,	Penna.
A. T. Cheatham,	Georgia.	L. Martin y de Castro,	Cuba.
L. F. Engelhard,	France.	W. F. McCurdy,	Penna.
Jose Guerrero,	Nicaragua.	P. P. Nichols,	Penna.
C. Hardee,	Florida.	L. C. Rice,	Penna.
W. II. Hazzard,	Penna.	J. W. Stam,	Penna.
	D. R. Thomas	i, Penna.	
   Gentlemen :
               The confidence evinced in me, by  yourselves  and the
Class you represent, in the request conveyed in your note, is too gratify.
ing, not to meet with a speedy acquiescence.  The Address, however un-
 worthy, shall be at your disposal.
        Believe me to be
                         Very  truly Yours,
                                             II. Hartshorne.
  Messrs. J. 0.  Burnett, W. H.  Hazzard, W.  Bradley,  P. P. Nichols,
G. 11. Cooke, and others. 
 
ADDEESS.
Gentlemen, Graduates:
                         It is fitting that we should view the
occasion  of our  meeting with you on this  platform to-day,
through your eyes, and appreciate it with your hearts.
  To us,  however deep the interest it must ever have for us,
it comes  not for  the  first time.   Though momentous, it  has
grown to  be, in some degree, an accustomed occasion.  But we
revert in  sympathetic remembrance to the hour, not yet much
dimmed in the distance, when we were in your places.
  We remember the ardent longings  that had nerved all  our
exertions to meet the anxious trial which preceded this crown-
ing occasion.   We cannot forget the glow of high anticipation,
so  sweetened  by long   and careful  toil,  with which  we
looked forth  upon the  promised  land of professional life.
We  can  see  now, too, on  each brow, a  light  reflected
from a  dearer and  a  nearer  land;  the  haven of  home,
where hearts beat more warmly, even than your  own, to await 
                            6
your coming ;  where your  success  will be the  triumph of a
household;  and where this day will wear the brightness of more
than a common dawn.
  In toil and parting, then, you have won this goal; toil, that
wears more than the pilgrim's journey, or the labor of stalwart
arms; and separation, many of you, from all  that gives to life
its chief delight.
  Has it been worth the effort ? Will it repay you for so much
sacrifice ?
  These are questions which, if not now, will  soon  be pressing
upon you.
  You are  beyond the age when Hope speaks with  the voice
of a syren, deluding with false prophecy;  or when the pencil
of untaught Fancy paints everything with rainbows.
   You are men.  The business of life opens before you in real
aspects. Yet, perhaps, your anticipations of the Science you
have pursued, and of the profession you have chosen, may not
have met, as yet, with precise realization.
   Did  any suppose  it  to  be more  easily  mastered, its results
more readily won, its knowledge limited and attainable, instead
of reaching out into the vast unknown, with an extent which no
eye can pierce, no plummet sound ?
   You  have, then, in this, no cause of disappointment.  Instead
of  conquering a narrow island, you have  entered  upon a vast
unbounded continent; a very world; whose seas and shores no
duration will enable you to explore, since  the words
                    Ars longa, vita brevis est,
ring out in varied echoes, everywhere, as you tread  on.  It is
not in the  unlimited character of Science that the noble mind
finds discouragement.   You  can have had no misgivings from
this source. 
                             7
  But,  perhaps, the acquaintance  you have  thus far formed
with Medicine, upon the threshold  of her temple, may have
given rise to disheartening thoughts of  quite another  kind.
You have seen, if not felt, the " experientia fallax."  Medicine
is an incompleted  science;  its  application, an imperfect art.
  We must confess this.
  The uncertainty of some departments of medical knowledge
has  always proved a fertile theme of satire to its deriders, as
well as  of humility to the profession itself.
  Thus  says Tom Hood,  (the wittiest  though kindest  of
humorists,) " the physician is  expected to  find out the color of
a cat in a bag ;  or, to pronounce as  to the contents of a sus-
pected trunk, without even the policeman's privilege of search."
  But, you well know, this is not always so.   If  it were, now,
will it always be ?  Has not the human mind achieved results
as marvellous as these ?  Has it not  read the epitaphs of the
pyramids ?  Weighed the planets, with their moons ? Measured
the distance of the sun, and traced  even his orb to a vassalage
to another sphere  ? Has it not decyphered, upon the walls of
the old Earth herself, tokens  of her  many-cycled age?  And
shall it then, having thus made the  far off spheres and distant
ages to give up their  secrets, be always  baffled  with what is
nearest to us, within and about us,  our very selves ?
  It is not, surely, that the occurrences of man's  life, the phe-
nomena of organic  beings, in health and disease,  are less sub-
ject to order, less  governed by laws than any others in the uni-
verse.   It is, only, that we have not yet known the former, as
we have learned to discern a portion of the latter.  When  we
can command, in our mental vision,  the ultimate and proximate
molecules of matter, as the astronomer seizes the star upon the
field of his telescope, then will we see that among the pheno- 
8
mena even of disease, which  are the most complex, rules  an
order as absolute, though in discord, still telling of its lost har-
mony, as that of the spheres, which
             Each in its orbit like an angel sings,
             Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim.
  And, then, will we or our successors, be able to point with
pride to medicine, as a positive, an exact, a most  magnificent
science, second only, in dignity and usefulness, to the study of
divine truth itself.
  You share, then,  gentlemen,  in the honors of Medicine, not
only as it is, but as it will be.  Its future, with unlimited aspi-
rations, lies before  you.
  You shall aid to exalt it.   We have confidence in you, that
this banner, now confided  to your hands, will not be abandoned
without trophies to  adorn  it.
  Medicine expects much from the  profession in  America,
during the coming century.   Our progenitors and cotempora-
ries  have  done somewhat—may have  done  much—in their
time, but the emulation of the world demands still larger trib-
ute from our hands.  In strict  scientific inquiry, and cumula-
tive research, what, it is said,  has America effected, when we
compare the immense results of the English, French, and Ger-
man minds ?
  Perhaps this comparison  may have been  somewhat errone-
ously stated.  A qualitative analysis  might show,  on the part
of the Cis-Atlantic  profession, a better account.
  But I will not  enter into the controversy.  Let me only
quote, as  one  testimony  in regard to it, the words, spoken
thirty-six years ago, by the distinguished, and now venerable
Professor of Institutes in  the University of Pennsylvania.
   "  Under the influence," says he, " of a fickle sky and ever-
varying temperature, the diseases of our country present pecu- 
                             9
 liar characteristics.   The  earlier practitioners  of  America
 found no authorities on  which they could depend, and were
 forced for their treatment into a reliance on their own powers.
 Hence  was awakened  in them a habit of close  observation,
 of patient research, a prudent distrust of general deductions.
 and mere authority, which  has  continued to  designate the
 medical profession of our  country.  With pride," he continues,
 " with feelings of exultation it maybe pronounced, that  for sound
 physiological  doctrines, for correct pathological views, for en-
 lightened and successful practice, for a just system of thera-
 peutics and materia medica, for accurate knowledge of anatomy.
 and expert and improved  surgery, the Medical Science of our
 country stands conspicuous."
   It may not, perhaps, be an unpardonable vanity to  add, that
 our own  city has had  some share in  the amount of renown
 which the world has been compelled to give to American sci-
 ence ; when we can name, amongst other names, hardly less
 worthy, the European, as well as enduring  reputation of a
 Rush, a Physick, and a Morton;  the fellow-citizenship, at the
 present time,  of a La Roche, a Kane, and a Leidy;  and the
 influence which has so long belonged to the city as  the medical
 metropolis of  the Union.
   May  we not ardently hope that you, young gentlemen, may,
 by your labors  and talents,  add something not only to your
 own reputation and success, but to the honor of your country
 and of your profession.
   We trust that your College has not failed to do  its  duty, in
 furthering your preparation for so noble a task.
   We hope, we may even  say we believe, that  in choosing for
your alma mater one of the youngest Institutions in the coun-
try, you chose  not one that was idle or neglectful of  her charge.
or even  incompetent to bear it. 
10
   The Faculty of the Philadelphia College of Medicine, when,
 in 1854, they received the transfer of its responsibilities, de-
 termined to place  and maintain  it  upon a high,  safe, and
 honorable platform.  Regardless of prejudice, and independent
 of petty interests, they were still resolved to be governed only
 by their own candid sense  of right, in its control.   So, should
 it sink or swim, live or die.
  Of its former organization, we  have no occasion  to speak.
 Of its older graduates, I may say one word.   They are, I need
 hardly say it, our professional  brethren.  Their sympathy and
 friendship has been a grateful support to us in the task of our
 early establishment, which has not been without its  toil and
 anxiety. '
  As to them all, as they are worthy of the profession, we re-
 ceive them to our  hearts.  Should  any prove to be less  so,
 (which we hope may never be the case), upon that ground alone
 could any think of repudiation.  The  oldest  institution could
 do no more, the youngest can do no less.   And when, as  upon
 a recent sad occasion, well known to you all, and to  the pub-
lic, they are seen in the ranks of those who march against  pes-
tilence,  through death, and danger, and distress, shall we not
be proud of them ?  Shall we not add their  names to  ours, with
gratulation at the connection ?
  Alas, let  us pause from all words of gratulation, while  we
 speak the name of one, who shall never hear them  more, ex-
 cept in the glad, eternal voices of another  world.
  Poor  Courtland Cole !
     There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee,
     And mine were nothing  hadl such to  give ;
     But, when I stand beneath the fresh green tree,
      Which, living, waves where thou didst cease to live, 
                              11
      And see around me the wide fields revive
      With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring
      Come forth her work of gladness to contrive,
      With all her reckless birds upon the wing,
      I turn from those she brought, to those she could not bring.
   Thus may we,  perhaps, most appropriately  allude to this
 young  hero-martyr of science and benevolence, who  died, in
 Portsmouth, Virginia, in  September,  1855, while engaged  in
 service during the Yellow Fever epidemic, which he had left his
 home to aid in combating.
   The  heroism of destruction is growing obsolete; the heroism
 of beneficence will ere long, supercede  it, even in the world's
 esteem.  For, that grand  self-sacrifice, which  is, after all, the
 radical element of the heroic character, finds a thousand times
 more congenial life in combating  against pain  and death, than
 where its own self-wronging hands are imbued in blood  and
 carnage.
   Yet,  let us be allowed to rejoice, that all self-devotion is not
 martyrdom ; and that of the representatives  or alumni of  this
 school (who were, as you know, a majority of  the medical vol-
 unteers to that scene of death from this city), all, except him
 whom we have named, have returned in safety.  There is one,
 even among your own number, native of a sunny island of the
 South,* who did not wait for the completion of his  academic
 course  to hasten  to the scene of arduous labor, danger,  and
 usefulness.   May  he never suffer a more painful reminiscence,
 than that of those generously devoted  days, spent  in manly
toil by the bedsides of victims stricken down  by that  fearful
pestilence.  I dwell upon this  topic, because it has  for us  a
deep professional as well as personal interest.
* Dr. L. Martin y de Castro, of Cuba. 
12
  "If," as says  the  Report of the Committee of Relief, " if
doctors, druggists, and nurses are to be ranked as the commis-
sioned officers to combat pestilence, a  comparison will show
that the mortality in  their  ranks in the Portsmouth and Nor-
folk  campaign  exceeds the  mortality  among  the  regular
officers of the Russian and allied armies  in the campaigns  of
the Crimea.  If there was  heroic courage shown in storming
or defending the Malakoff, and in the attempt on the Redan,
it required yet  more to minister to the sick and dying in  the
plague stricken cities of Norfolk and Portsmouth."
  There is one other aspect in which  I would view the same
subject before we leave it.   Let me quote  a  few words more
from the same document.   "Not we alone, but all  cities and
States of the Union  responded to the cry of affliction.  The
wail  of woe which went forth from  the  cities of Virginia
thrilled throughout the land, and  the whole  Union beat with
responsive  sympathy, proving us to be a people, one  in feeling,
and one in patriotism."
   How stands our profession in regard to this ?  Has it, less
than any other class, this feeling of wide-spread, national, all-
embracing  sympathy?
   Nay, even  more.    It is Cosmopolitan.  Its vocation is
Humanity.
   But, I maintain, that the Medical Body has a usefulness, of
both a social and political character, not  restricted  to its con-
flicts  with disease and  death.
   It has an organization of its own.   From New York  and
St. Louis,  to New Orleans and Charleston, every year beholds
the meeting of a congress of medical men, the representative
body  of the profession.  By its efforts science is enlarged, and
a true fraternity is realized. If you seek for sectionalism, look
for it everywhere, you will not find it amongst medical men. 
                            13
  Besides the American Association, however, another  means
of similar potency toward the same end, exists in the influence
of our system and Institutions of Medical Education.
   On the seats of our Medical Schools, you meet, from North,
South, East, and West.   On neutral  ground, without any of
those occasions of difference in lesser interests to which distance
only lends exaggeration, you find, coming from all quarters of
our vast national domain, only the courtesy of  gentlemen, the
friendship of men.  If you had imagined  it otherwise before
you came hither, I trust that you have realized, in this cradle-
city of Independence, a most agreeable  disappointment;  that
you have found that, here, as much as anywhere, is felt  and
appreciated  the sentiment of one of our noblest citizens, the
late John Sergeant, spoken in his Eulogy upon Charles Carroll
of Carrollton, " The  Union is our Country."
   It is, then, in no merely egotistical and selfish spirit that we
may urge and promote the attendance of young  men from the
most distant quarters, in our Medical Halls.
   We cannot regret the increase of Medical Schools in various
parts of the country;  we take pride in  it,  as an indication of
thriving  and progress,  in the profession,  as well as in the
society of which it forms a part.  But this  need  not cause any
diminution in the resort to the central reservoirs; if it  be even
 attended by an exchange.  Grant  to  each  School an equality,
 be it even in some instances a superiority of talent, yet there
 must be reasons why a visit  to a great city  will  afford advan-
 tages.  There, and no where else, can  the fullest clinical oppor-
 tunities be afforded. There are Hospitals, and Libraries, a variety
 of private instruction, an infinitude of books, multitudes of men;
 and from all of these much may be learned.
   A visit to Paris was once thought almost indispensable to the 
14
 fully educated physician ; a visit to Philadelphia, or, shall we
 stretch the courtesy, and say New York—will, we  trust, long
 be thought so, still.

   Gentlemen, we feel the responsibility of our past relation  to
 you, as Teachers, very deeply.
   We have some regrets, even, in connection with it.
   We  believe that you  are, as a  class,  as  amply  prepared,
 through your own  careful industry, to merit the degree and
 license we this day confer upon you, as any class in the L'nion.
   But, we trust that the day  will come, when "excelsior" will
 be written upon the banners of medical education.  We should
 be glad if,  by  the  extension  of the time  of study,  more
 learning  might be  exacted of,  as afforded  to,  the candi-
 date for medical honors, than now is the share of one half of
 the profession.
   Yet the Philadelphia  College of Medicine shrinks from no
 reasonable test of its performance of duty in  this matter.  It
 has shown this, by its challenge, thrown out so often, that re-
 iteration has grown  to be a tautology,  to  unite with the other
 Schools of the country in subjecting its pupils to an impartial,
 extra-collegiate examination, before conferring the Degree.
   But, in truth, as I have already said, Science is inimitable ;
 Truth is infinite.  All of us must forever be Students.
   You will find leisure, in  your early days of Practice, to fill
up many a void in your present acquisition of knowledge.  Do
not attempt to read everything; but study  well and thoroughly,
master completely a judicious selection of Books  and  Medical
Journals.   Study nature, too ;  at the bed-side, in the imme-
diate pursuit  of your art;  but not  only there.  In  the fields
and wood-paths; in the waters, and the very clouds around and 
                            15
above you;  in every thing that has life, the Physician, whose
very name is derived from nature, should find interest and pro-
fit.   If there be any one pursuit  which, rather  than another,
may well fill those hours  not  engrossed in  your profession
(since  the mind requires variety of thought,  as the stomach
needs  variety of food),  it is  the cultivation  of the Natural
Sciences.
  I know of no  study which, to the physician, will so serenely
alleviate the painfulness  of that sympathy, which custom  does
not annul, with  the sufferings  of those he treats, and  of the
evidence he sees, in disease, of disorder in the  creation, as may
the contemplation of nature in her  grand and  perfect forms
and  motions.
  He may,  even, by this contrast with man's  marred and im-
perfect state, gain a finer sense of the divine harmony.
  He will, at all events,  never find  his labor unrewarded by
delight.   For, in whatever direction the eye or  the  mind of
man turns, armed  with the weapons  of Science,  it everywhere,
as you have seen, meets with beauty.
  Whether, with Lord Rosse, it  penetrates the farthest  hea-
vens, to  resolve nebulse into stars; or, with Maury and his
friends, sends a plummet downwards, to bring up the delicate
plants  or unbroken shells from the bottom  of  the ancient  sea ;
or, gazes, through the microscope, upon the lines of an insect's
wing, the forms  of a crystal, or the  layers  that make up the
colors of the pearl; still, everywhere, it finds beauty; beauty in
all things, if men had but eyes!  We cannot escape from it; it
is the proof of the omnipresence of God.
  The  study of the Natural Sciences is one, also, which has a
direct bearing upon, and close congeniality with, Medicine.
  The  affinities  of Law,  are most with literature, history, and 
16
 politics;  of  Theology, with philosophy and history ;  of Com-
 merce, with politics, history,  and the arts;  but Medicine rests
 her whole existence upon, and  draws almost her whole  nutri-
 ment from Science.
    Much is expected, also, of the Medical man, in this day of
 diffused education ; he  cannot always  do his duty, in private,
 or as, at  times, the guardian  of  the  public welfare, without
 being at  least the  equal of  those around him in general
 knowledge.
    While, therefore, you should not despise any cultivation of
 the mind,  and may allow, with advantage, a place to  poetry
 and literature in your scheme of recreations, Science may well
 claim a primary place ; and a taste for  it will be of the highest
 importance to you, in your profession.
   But, gentlemen, character is, after all, in  the  profession  or
 out of it,  essentially the Man;  and there  is  no vocation  in
 which this is  more practically and strikingly so, than in that
 of Medicine.
   A man may be a  commander, as  great as Nelson, and yet
 a social criminal;  a politician and philosopher, like Bacon, and
 yet the meanest as well as  wisest of  mankind;  witty, as Dean
 Swift, but  a brute to those who loved him and whom he pro-
 fessed to love ; even a votary of Natural Science, and yet, like
 the famous Dr. Webster, may murder his friend and hide and
 burn his bones; but, a truly and honorably successful physician
 or surgeon, and not a gentleman—the thing  is impossible.
  And in  this I mean a man  who is gentle as well as manly ;
 qualities  which  may exist with  or  without  much intellectual
 superiority.  It has been quaintly, but  perhaps  not  untruly,
remarked that Don Quixote was  one of the truest gentlemen
in all fiction. 
                             17
   But it has been more often said of the poetic mind, that the
largest and finest genius always has in it somewhat of the femi-
nine, in its sympathies.
   The poetic  temperament  resembles, in  this, the Medical ;
however different may be the popular impression in regard to
both.
   Add, to the  same sympathetic traits, in  place of a glowing
imagination and creative genius, a strong  understanding  and
practical  sagacity, and you have the highest capacity for Med-
ical success and distinction.
   Well is it, then, for  the  physican to cultivate, in  his  own
character, all  the amenities  and adornments, the refinements
and courtesies, of life;  well  for himself,  and well for his pro-
fession.   Next to Religion, and his strict professional  duties,
these may be classed as  his highest objects.
   There are, sometimes, inducements  or  temptations  to their
neglect or violation, belonging to the very nature of the prac-
tice of Medicine.
   If, therefore, the accusation of jealousy and constant opposi-
tion amongst physicians has  become a  proverb, it must be
because  the  occasions are  more  frequent and  trying,  not
because the disposition is at all characteristic; as, towards the
rest of their  species, Medical men have been, in all ages, most
noted for  their  benevolence.
   And, of latter times, at least, they have displayed a marked
aptness for organization, such as is hardly to be found  in  any
other profession.  This  has  been evident in Europe, but  still
more so in this country, in the National  Association of which
I have spoken,  with its ramifications into  almost every  State.
The whole body of American Physicians will, we may trust, in
time, be thus organized. 
18
  The admirable influence of such associations is manifest.
  It can have no better illustration, than in the excellent Code
of Ethics, adopted  first by the  College of  Physicians of this
city, and afterwards by the American  Association, and which
we  present to  you to-day, with the  solemn sanction of  such
high tribunals added to our own.
  Classic, in tone, as the moralizing of a Seneca or Cicero, this
Code yet  breathes a spirit  of finer  benevolence,  of  more
generous courtesy, of truer  justice, than could emanate from
any but a Christian age.   It has met  with the unanimous ac-
ceptance of  the Profession  in this  country,  and  is   even
beginning,  I have learned, to be adopted in Great Britain.
  Cherish it, then,  as a landmark;  a beacon; a guide.   Prin-
ciples such as it enforces,  will enable you to  make your profes-
sion something more  than a metier, a  bread-bringing  and
money-making art.
  Ought it not to be so ?   Having all necessary relations  to
business, and the support  of the practitioner and his dependen-
cies, in view,  still, the attitude of the profession, from its  con-
nection with the issues of  life, death and disease, has always
been that of a  mission of honor and  duty; and  only to  be
maintained upon the most elevated principles.
  It ought to be so, still.
  A vocation which has had its healing offices sanctified,  even,
by the action  of the Redeemer of  men;  from the ranks  of
which one of the Apostles was called; and in which  the highest
genius has found  full scope, the  noblest   character " ample
room and verge enough" for all its  worth; from such a profes-
sion far be a degeneracy such as has sometimes threatened  it,
into a selfish craft, fattening upon the misery of mankind.  We
trust it will ever be far from us. 
19
  But, Gentlemen, I have detained you long enough.
  One more topic I must speak of;  which I have left  to the
last, because it is the most painful.  We shrink from  approach-
ing it.  Yet it has waited, as a shadow, upon us  all, from the
moment we stood together upon this platform.
  We look around, and there is one missing.  And that one,
the noblest of us all!  He who would  have taken the  most
pride and genial pleasure in this day ;  he who was as a parent
to you, a brother and friend  to us.  Can  we believe, who so
lately saw that  manly form, and heard his voice, and met the
warm pressure of his hand, that our friend, our companion, our
preceptor, is already gone ?
  Never again to mingle, here, in our pleasures, toils, anxieties,
or sorrows.
        How shall we know thee, in the sphere which keeps
          The disembodied spirits of the dead,
        When all of thee, that time could wither, sleeps
          And perishes among the dust  we tread?
        In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind,
          In the resplendence of that glorious sphere,
        And larger movements of the unfettered mind,
          Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here?
        Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky,
          Wilt thou not keep the same remembered name,
        The same high thoughtful brow, and gentle eye ?
          Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet :he same ?

  Gentlemen, in Professor Isaac A. Pennypacker, you and I, the
Institution honored  by  his services, the  Medical Profession,
have met with no common loss.
  More brilliant men there may,  perhaps, have been, although 
20
his abilities were of a very high order; more profuse in learn-
ing, although a ripe judgment, ample experience, and wide re-
search, made him a Teacher truly eminent in his vocation; men
of more varied accomplishments there may have been,  or more
popular address ;  but  an  honester, truer-hearted man, God
never made upon this earth!
  To this School, especially, he  gave all  his  great mental en-
ergies ; with the pride of a founder, which, in a certain  sense,
as it now stands, he was ; it seems to us, now, like  an edifice
whose foremost column has fallen down;  or a tree, whose top-
most bough is broken off.
  Too little time has, as yet, been afforded for the sap  to cease
to flow, for the wound to heal,  over  so great a grief, to enable
us to speak calmly, or at length, of him we have thus lost.
  Let us, then, faithfully trust him to our memories. In yours
I am sure he will ever be treasured as he so well deserves. No
man need wish  to live longer than to leave so excellent a name
behind  him.   No  triumphs which this world could give, are
worthy to be compared with  the rest and  the joy, which we
may trust are his,  now.
               For him the glory ;  ours the gloom ;
               The narrow coffin, and  the tomb,
                       Are ours alone.

  And now,  our last words must be said.
  In this world, of short meetings and long farewells, of baffled
hopes, and aspirations unfulfilled, of morning brightness, with
clouds gathering as the day rolls on, and, only, by the light of
a better world, stayed from setting in  a  night of  storm  and
wreck, in such  a world, we part.   You, as well as we, must, no
doubt, meet with some  misfortunes, some suffering, some  dis-
appointments. 
                            21
  In  separating  from you, then, to-day, it is with the most
fraternal, or paternal, interest, that we ask for the blessing of
Heaven upon your career;  so that, if knots,  and thorns, and
tangled vines should sometimes grow  about your tree of life,
they at least  may be deciduous, while the bark,  the sap, and
the fruit, may be perpetual, eternal.
   Farewell.