sy ioung Gentlemen :— The hour has arrived when we must part—say farewell—bid adieu—and it is ever a painful one to him whose heart is warmed by one drop of the blood of sympathy, or who has one impulse of geiie- rous feeling, or a soul. He who lives rightly, lives not for himself, but for the whole human race, casts from him the selfishness and the meaner things of men, and looks to the higher and more glorious fu- ture. He who feels properly, feels for his friends, his companions in life, and lends all his aid to give comfort, happiness and peace to those he loves ; for true to nature, as the mirror in its reflections, will that we give be returned, and our own is our neighbor's happi- ness, or neighbor's joy. Our neighbor's or our brother's griefs should bring us pain, for even in the agony of sympathy there is a pleasure in imparting it. And though in this life we may be robbed and de- ceived, friendship is the jewel at last, and love lights the lamp that leads us to the grave, and hope points the way. The earth we tread— the air we breathe—the starry, heavens that we gaze upon—all teach us that all around us is change, motion,'that atom is from atom borne to meet with other atoms, to combine and be separated again, while all is being—life,—yet all is one grand design, and what seems to us a partial evil, no doubt is universal good. It has been good for us to be together ; we have toiled in the laboratory of nature for the good of our fellow man ; have gone through arduous duties in the achievment of knowledge, have mingled in- harmony, in joy, and now, like all things in this world, perhaps in the world to come, we must part- change, as progression, eteyation and advancement, are nature's watchwords ; we part in peaee^ but to renew the struggle elsewhere, that by motion, action and energy-good may be achieved, knowl- edge diffused, and the human race benefited. We ' therefore, •should not grieve, we should look at nature as God's work for goodness, his bounty and beneficence to his creatures, and now to his superior wisdom, look at it as it is, and lire the life of the patient philo&opher, the humble and submissive christian. 'In the great drama of life there are parts far us all to play. There are duties which devolve upon us as PhysieiaiS, as men, ts citizens, and as christians, which we should well consider, and weigh well, that we may the better play our part, that life here and hereafter may be happy : 1. Your duties to yourselves and your profession. ;) 1wi 2 o. Your duties to woman, as you come in contact with her, as a patient, friend or physician. 3. Your duties to your country, as men of science, and advocates of civil and religious liberty. 4. Your duty to God, and a reliance on him for support in the hour of trial. On these subjects we would address you separately. And when we turn to our experience, we beg your confidence; you may rely upon us as a faithful guide. A life now more than half spent, groping in the paths of the profession for a quarter of a century, yea, thirty years in the practice of medicine and surgery, having mingled with mankind in all the phases of society, enables me to speak with confidence, be- cause I know I will speak with truthfulness and knowledge — a father could not feel more solicitude, a mother more care, than he who has led you cautiously and patiently to the position you now occupy. Here perched on the nearest limb to the nest in which you have been fledged, — your flu tering wings and palpitating hearts are now waiting until you shall try your own pinions, and fly or fall. I will point you honestly to the path, show you the mark, follow it, and aim for the prize. The description will be faithful, the object clear. As self-preservation is the first law of nature, admitted in all coun- tries, savage or civilized, so is self-respeot among the first duties which we should observe, and bow to with the profoundest conside- ration, for without it we have nothing for which to hope, nothing* that oan feed ambition, nothing to make us daring in the elevation of char- acter, nothing that can make us proud of an achievement, nothing by which we can meet the storms of life,—we have no ocean to cross in discovery, no alps to scale for glory. He who gets position by stealth, does not enjoy it, for his heart never can respond to the praise of man- kind, and the scorn of the world is felt most keenly when we know it is deserved. The man who cannot participate in the joy of those who praise him, feels as the prince who has robbed the legal heir of an estate, or Richard the Third, when he had murdered his way to the crown,—starts at every sound, sees ghosts in his sleep, starts up and cries "rats," but that rat is the nibbling of the living conscience, the gnawing of the worm that never dies. If your gifts to the world, or to your profession, be stolen from others, it is a charity that your heart can never feel, and although the world may praise, and the press eulogiae, your bosom will never find the first throb of honest sympathy, but wmorse. He »ho maku the neck of his benefactor his stepping stone to greatness, plants the ladder of his elevation on the margin of a deep gulph, and leans it upon a vapor that will deceive, while every round is trodden with 8 fear, and at last will find himself precipitated into the gulph below the gulph which nature, conscience, justice, by just retribution, has placed in his own bosom. For although the world be free to praise, and can enjoy it, his bosom is a prison, his soul incarcerated in a living tomb, that tomb which is worse than oblivion, while retrospective thought or memory exists, or one spark of honesty lives to tell the hated truth. To steal position by hypocricy is to steal that which cannot enrich you; the gold of the hypocrite has no lustre, but has upon it the rust, the canker of duplicity. He knows it to be the baser metal galvanized. To be a Catholic and a Protestant is to lie to both, and if the fraud never be detected, the heart knows it, and no opiate will give us quiet, while the honest mind has not one ray of heaven, or the heart one throb of proper impulse. Self-respect should teach us not to be too vociferous in religion, be pious but be honest in your piety; hypocricy, vociferation will not be mistaken for honest piety; do the work ef a Christian, but do not proclaim it on the house-top, or em- ploy an herald to sound your praise in the streets. It is not often that the alms of the hypocrite are not published, and seldom indeed is his right hand ignorant of what his left hand doeth. If settled in a com- munity of any denomination, let self-respect teach you not to be too forward. If in the society of Presbyterians, be not an Elder, a Deacon, or a member of the session, lest you be compelled to judge harshly of your fellow-men, for it is written, judge not, lest ye be judged. If among methodists, be not a class leader, a habitual shout- tr, nor do you shout too loudly, lest you be supposed to groan that you may be heard of men. If in the midst of Baptists, do not go too deep into the water, nor immerse yourselves in the society so deeply as a defender of the faith, as to bring up the mud in your baptism.— If perchance, you be a jew, do not be a Christian too; do not be an Elder or a Class-leader, least you be suspected of duplicity. For to boast of being of the lineal descent of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, and profess to hate the unoffending swine, is inconsistant, most unnat- ural while we are known to feed on the spare-ribs, pigs feet and souse of society. Such conduct is duplicity doubled, and always watched by society, and public opinion will do justice to us all,-mind will be appreciated, and mud will settle, and clear water float on top. If vou should be a pillar in a Protestant church, do not marry a Catholic Lv unless impelled by honest love, a lofty estimate of the intelligence and worth of the woman; and if she be wealthy, be careful the world do not suspect your honesty ; but of all things avoid the necessity of underwriting that your wife shall be a confessing Catholic, and your children baptised and reared in the nurture and admonition of the holy Fa hers Do not offer yourselves a willing sacrifice on the altar of 4 mammon ; do not sell in the market-place, as an huckster, your per- sonal charms for money, nor be bribed to do injustice to your former benefactor and friends. << There be, perhaps, whose barren hearts avow, Cold as the rocks on Torneas hoary brow. But triumph not ye peace enamored few, Fire, Nature, Genius never dwelt with you. For you no lancy consecrates the scene, Where rapture uttered vows and wept between. 'Tis yours unmoved to sever and to meet, No pledge is sacred, no home is sweet." Such a sacrifice is detestable, and power won by such means is never brought into honorable competition. He who worships mammon, and pays°his devotion to the God of money, will find an humble estimate placed upon his honor and his honesly, while his efforts through life, although they be vigorous, will not achieve the desired object; his blows like the blind Polyphemus, though giant-like and powerful, will never strike the desired victim, can never achieve the wished for sta- tion. " For Mammon was the least created spirit which fell from heaven, For e'en in heaven his looks were always downward bent, Admiring more the pavement trodden gold of heaven Than aught divine, or holy else in vision beatific.'' If in one community you be a Protestant, when you remove to an- other, be not a Catholic and associate with Jesuits ; such oonductyou may attempt to defend, butthe argument is as baseless as ihe honor and -honesty oMhe mind that conciived such a project, besides you will get to hell soon enough without keeping company with devils in this world. But, gentlemen, of all things, do not. pledge your honor in a cause, which, when you desert, you in!end to destroy. Judas, Monteith, and Arnold are the most despised wretches that ever lived. Jesus sub- mitted patiently to his betrayer, was crucified, but lives in glory, sur- rounded by his angels and follower?, while Judas, wo are afraid, is in hell. William Wallace fell on Tower Hill in London, but the spot on which his blood was shed for freedom is sacred to every man who loves human liberty, while Montciflt is despised by every Scotchman, every Englishman, even the nation io whom he was betrayed. George Washington's name will be written upon the sublirnest page of human greatness, while the name of Arnold will be remembered with hate by all succeeding generations. Self-respect should teach you never to marry but for love, and duty should teach you to respect mind, al- though it be enshrined in poverty—that jewel will shine as bright 5 with as without the setting. Mind is immortal—it blazes as well on the hearthstone as it does in the hall of fashion ; mind is the bright morning star of domestic life, which bids darkness flee, shines brightest upon the dreary path of life, and lights up every footstep with' alacrity and joy. It is a mistaken idea that money makes men great and powerful; it may give us importance and power for a time, but the glory perishes with, the using. Shakespeare has said "put money in thy purse," Roderigo "put money in thy purse," but I say unto thee, put learning in thy head, and, honor and integrity in thy heart; they will last longer, they will main- tain you while living, and live after you when dead. Learning, heroic decision of character, inflexible integrity, pure, moral rectitude, will be the bright jewels of your character when mountains of ill-gotten gold will have dwindled away. Silver and gold may pay the expen- ses of a splendid funeral, but the memory of the man rots in the sepulchre. The rich Crsesus, the rich Polydor, of Messina,— the Arbaces of Pompeii,—and Shylock, of Venice,—live in mem- ory's records as knaves — fattened hogs, or oxen ribboned for the fair. While the minds of the nations which produce such mon- sters in wealth, such mammoth calves in gold, live renowned for their moralitv, wisdom, learning and patriotism; their deeds in arts, science and in arms, have floated upon the turbulent sea of human knowledge, a casket of jewels whose lustre shines to heaven, and although found oftimes upon the dung-hill of poverty, shine with intrinsic beauty in the estimate of every mind of elevated mould, and with purest ray serene The great moralists who have been the ornaments of the pages of history and blessings to mankind, the lights to the path of the hu- man race, have never been reputed wealthy, nor is it ever asked by the pupil of wisdom and learning, were they rich. Socrates, the father of the moral teachings of Greece, when his prison doors were opened by his pupils who bade him" fly, which he refused pre!erring death rafter than disobedience to the laws of his country, drank the hemlock and died while he had not a drachma in his purse. Our Saviour when brught before Pilot had not a piece of silver on hi. person yet Judas the rich man and banker of the twelve, had thirty pieces oi silver, the price of his Master-the one is worshipped as a God, the other des- ^ ^nLufter, Melancthon, and John Calvin, the greatest moralists and ref rmers of their_age, had but little to boast of but wisdom, piety and retorme 5 ^ ^ ed the mUom ^ 7«^> had but two hundred and fifty dollars when of hs effects were sold. In your own profession, gentlemen, great have rarely been rich, but have been examples oi genius strug- men 6 gling with poverty. Hypocrates, the father of Grecian medicine, was not rich, but gloried in the science of Greece, and his heart abounded in the love of country, and when offered by the Persian monarch a kingdom if he would remove to Persia, replied with patriotic pride, that he would rather die the poor man in Greece than live a prince in Persia. John Hunter who has written his name on the loftiest peak of the granite of his profession, was poor, and his only legacy to his familv and the world, was his museum. Mechell, one of the brightest ornaments of the age, the glory of German anatomy, following the ex- ample of Hunter, left but his books and his museum to his children; whilst the immortal anatomist Bichat had but little else to leave but his naked body, which he was willing to bestow on France and his profession. Such names, gentlemen, will live in the memory of the human race as long as language is written or mind educated to read. The French, English and German nations, now at the achme of their glory, may die, disappear, their records and language perish, hut trans- lated into living tongues that may succeed like that of Hypocrates and Celsus, will be found in the bosom of the last rolling billow of human- ity, as it breaks upon the shores of eternity. A decent regard for the opinions of mankind and respect for the comforts of life and happiness in after years, should induce you to marry, but that matrimonial connexion should be most judicious. When youthful companions unite for the journey of life, it most frequently happens that the river of domestic bliss glides swiftly and sweetly along; like gentle rills from hills that join—they unite without a rip- ple, without an effervescence or a bubble, their chemical elements the same,—they have lived neighbors, have the same experience, the same thunder cloud darts its lightnings and pours its showers and floods around them, and the sunshine follows in its bright career, and heav- en's own rain-bow, the bright arch of promise of after years, stretches its glorious limbs o'er both their Fathers.' farms ; they see alike, think alike, they love alike, and live through life like children of the same family. But, boys, do not marry a woman much older than yourself, and do not marry your mammy. Besides young boys when grown some- times leave their mammy, and seek for more youthful companions, more congenial society. Some of you, gentlemen, are old bachelors ; be careful in matrimony ; if even you marry one of your own age, al- though it is just, proper and honorable, it is hazardous. Go stand at the junction of the mighty streams that make the Mississippi; they have travelled a weary thousand miles of way, and come bearing in their bosoms the elements of different and distant soils,—the one is transpa- rent, clear, the other comes with maddened energy, and full of mud; they come boldly together, they boil and wheel and foam and thunder 1 on, while bubbles burst and the surface foams with effervescence, while their deeper currents run with redoubled force. How like hu- man nature reared in distant climes that differ widely the one from the other, the scenes of early childhood make different impressions on their tender minds, and their minds are fixed on almost every subject; they cannot agree concerning anything, and even quarrel about the changes of the weather, and will not consent as to what a day will bring forth; carrying in their bosoms the chemical as well as the moral elements of •strife, they sometimes boil with rage, and passions effervesce, and bub- bles burst upon the surface, while the deeper currents of the human soul run moodily, muddily, and deeply through life, perhaps tumbled without care for each other into the bosom of the ocean of eternity. Ye older men and widowers, be careful, too; be philosophers; look at things as they are,' too tender a sprout will not do to make a staff of for after years. Walk into the flower garden with me, and behold the buds and blooms. The opening bud is always admired, more lovely than even the full blown rose; but who admires the with- ered and the leafless stem -? The old summer house is not admired, but the rich, luxuriant honeysuckle that hangs upon it for support, whilst the rich flowers are the food for humming birds that sip the sweet nectar of their opening lips. The old elm whose foliage is fading, withering and dying at the top, may be beautified and adorned by the fruitful vine ; but the rich au- tumnal fruit is too luscious not to be coveted and jumped at by wily foxes, and the old tree may sometimes be climbed to feed upon the bounty of his grapes. It is not always that foxes say that grapes are sour, but it is only when grapes are hung beyond their reach. "Be ye wise as serpents, harmless as doves." You should be students, gentlemen, not sluggards, and every spare hour should be devoted to your profession, or to innocent amusement or recreation, and that which is intellectual should always be preferred. Do not gamble, gentlemen, for the gambler is to-day rich, to-morrow poor; his mind rarely turns on labor or achievements in science; the world to him is so much a matter of chance, he prizes nothing, sets no value on anything in his possession, not even his wife. In the Legal, Clerical, »s well as the Medical profession, great men have-ever been students. Think you a Blackstone, a Mansfield and Coke, a Burke, a Pitt, a Fox or a Sheridan, a Brougham, an Adams, a Webster, or a Clay/were made great by nature only ? No, it is not so; at some time in their lives they had been devoted students, and many of them continued so to the grave. Self-respect should teach you, gentlemen, never to get drunk, for the drunkard rarely respects himself, and is never respected by any 8 one besides his zigzag prescriptions dictated without thought, reasmi or memory, may be messengers of death instead of harbingers of health to his patients. We would not have you debarred from pleasures or from a social glass,but drink not too often, nor too deeply ; 'tis poison to the heart; it debases and demoralizes ; 'tis death to the soul; its effects are felt, not only here but hereafter, and often entail sorrow on all we love, while we leave but a miserable pittance to those who are left behind. We would not have you wear a rueful countenance either, but a heartfelt mirthfulness and joy, for it is too often the case a pa- tient is killed with apprehension, especially the sensitive woman, while the light heart and the smiling countenance is a balm to ihe wounded spirit, a balsam to the broken heart. Auspicious hope in thy sweet gardens grow, A wreath for every toil, a balm for every woe. This couplet of Campbell is not less truthful than it is beautiful- while the following couplet, though less admired is no less the fact: "Alopathy is half hope, half physic gently combined, Homeopathy is only hope and hope a^ain refined." Indeed, where doubt surrounds the patient and diagnosis difficult. a cheerful countenance and a big lump of sugar with a little toddy, with something good to eat, is better far than either. In your exactions from men for your professional services, remem- ber the rich have everything, the poor nothing, and while vou provide for your own house-hold, what you take from the rich you should give to the poor, and if you must have pay from your poor patients, charge the debt to your Father in heaven, and he will give you eredit to the uttermost farthing on his well kept books, and that your indebtedness to him may be cancelled, he will give you compound interest for ail your labor among his afflicted children, whilst your final settlement will be with the utmost exactness, mingled with love. I would rather have my bills r.gainst my poor patients settled in heaven, for there the court -is honest— 'tis an open chancery, and our Father is the judge ; lor there the tears of my angel patients witness m my defence, would blot out the record of my crimes, while the Fa- ther of us all would welcome back his erring child—the poor but not the heartless prodigal. But in this age of improvement, the boasted age of refinement and philanthropy, we are constrained to think it is not the age of chivalry ; it is not the age to appreciate the honest rights of honest women, or the age to reclaim the afflicted, or minister to the unfortunate gentle woman. Man's kindest companion, man's faithful participant in all his cares—m all his woes—is now the most down-trodden bciim- that the eye can rest upon, and abandoned sometimes even by her own sex. 9 Be it your special care never to abandon her as a physician, a friend. The poor woman, though she be respectable, intellectual, cultivated, and refined, is too often neglected, while the rich fool is admired and caressed. Intellect has no brilliancy in this golden age, while doub- loons and diamonds throw their lustre between. The door of preferment is closed against her in a thousand occupations in which she might be employed. Pressed down by every new device, driven to poverty and despair when she would be honest had she occupation, she is impelled to crime, not unPrequently from absolute want, and when the first stain is found upon her garments of purity, her heart is broken, her soul blasted and destroyed, and she is banished by society to infamy and despair. But the man with true nobility of heart, with honest intent, can dare do anything in the defence of woman, and the physician, with true knighthood at heart, should nerve his soul and swear that, let so- ciety do its worst—let it cast the stones that might as well be thrown at them—he will never under any circumstances desert her, or cease to be her physician or her friend. The physician knows too well the wiles of society to be awed by its frowns. Jesus Christ be your ex- ample, for he was a physician, and while he pitied he rebuked the hy- pocrisy of the age , he dared be the friend and companion of even Mary Masrdalene. He was reviled, accused, slandered, but he heeded not their complaint; the gushing gratitude of the heart was his compensa- tion. The lame who leaped with joy around him, the tearful eyes that were lifted to heaven, felt no more gratitude, no deeper love than Mary. Besides she was true as woman's nature, always faithful, always kind in her attentions to her benefactor, the last to leave the spot of his crucifixion, and the first in the morning of his resurrection at. his se- pulchre. 'CommiU?e. JAMES H. STRAFFORD. )