IJttMfMfkiL 
DR. WM. BEVERLY DRINKARD. PROCEEDINGS 
OF THE 
MEDICAL SOCIETY OF THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, 
UPON THE DEATH OF 
DR. WILLIAM BEVERLY ZDIFtmNMK: AAIEtlD, 
February 14, 1877. 
The regular meeting was, on motion, adjourned, and Dr. S. C. Busey, 
the President, called a special meeting to announce the death of Dr. Wm. 
B. Drinkard, which he did as follows: 
Gentlemen: It becomes my painful duty to announce to you the 
death of one of our most distinguished members. Dr. William Bev- 
erly Drinkard died at his residence in this city, on the morning of the 
13th instant, after a brief but painful illness. Under ordinary circum- 
stances I might be content with this simple official announcement, but as 
one of those who was near him during his last illness, and who enjoyed 
his friendship and confidence, I am not permitted to grieve in silence. I 
cannot withhold a tribute to the memory of one so honored and so loved 
as was our late lamented associate. He was distinguished as a man, as 
a physician, and as a brother practitioner. As a man, for his uniform 
courtesy, unswerving integrity, and honorable bearing; as a physician, 
for his learning, his skill, and devotion to duty ; and as a brother prac- 
titioner, for his urbanity, courteous bearing, and high regard for the 
ethics of professional intercourse. None knew him but to love him, and 
the better one knew him the more he was loved. There is not one in 
yonder grief-stricken household, nor here among the companions of his 
manhood, nor elsewhere among his numerous friends, who ever heard him 
utter one harsh word, or one unmanly thought. 
As he lived, so he died. That courtesy and punctilio which charac- 
terized his demeanor towards every one; that firm and heroic will which 
had so preeminently distinguished his career from the beginning of his 
professional studies, and those high social and intellectual qualities which 
had surrounded him with so many friends, never forsook him, never once 
yielded under the painful suffering which terminated in death. But, 
perhaps, I can the better illustrate his heroism by a narration of some of 
the incidents of his sickness and death. From the commencement of his 
ill ness till within a few minutes of his death, he retained all his faculties, 
and never once lost his self-possession or forgot his calling. He under- 
stood the nature of his disease, marked its progress, realized its danger, and. 
lent every assistance to his medical advisers,* which physical suffering 
would permit, that was deemed conducive to a favorable issue. During 
* Drs. J. T. Young, A. Y. P. Garnett, A. F. A. King, and myself. Friday night, when his temperature was running high and exhaustion 
was threatening, previous to taking some wine, (he had never tasted 
any alcoholic beverage,) he took his temperature and, reading it at 
104.5, drank the champagne. After awhile he again took his tem- 
perature, and returning the instrument to me, remarked—“ a primary 
elevation of .8.” When the time came to repeat the stimulant, he 
again examined his temperature, finding a decline, took the wine; 
and so, at several recurring periods, did he make the thermal obser- 
vation before repeating the draught. During the early part of this 
scene he invited attention to his most distressing symptoms, and sev- 
eral times recalled the suggestions of Juergensen in regard to the man- 
agement of certain emergencies occasionally incident to the course of 
catarrhal pneumonia. As early as Friday night he indicated, but not 
until Sunday at noon did he positively express, any apprehension of an 
unfavorable result. At that time he communicated his wish to have an 
interview with a friend then absent from the city, and gave explicit direc- 
tions how to reach the gentleman by telegraph, but added, if it could be 
safely deferred until the next day he was content, but that it must not 
be too long delayed ; and, then, seeming to fear the opportunity might 
not occur, began to state the purposes of the conference desired, ceasing 
only when warned of the danger of fatigue. Several times during the 
following night and succeeding day he inquired why the friend had not 
arrived ; and when finally informed that he could not reach the city be- 
fore 6 a. m. Tuesday, he seemed to dismiss the subject. Early Monday 
morning, in response to the inquiry of a relative who had just returned 
to his room, he said, with his accustomed suavity of manner and usual 
precision of language: “I am better. The night was one of intense suf- 
fering. I am not, however, out of danger.” The hope proved delusive. 
Soon the aggravation of the symptoms denoted extension of disease. 
Thenceforward, until the end, there was unabated suffering and increas- 
ing exhaustion. 
When the hour of 6 Tuesday morning had come, he reminded me that 
his friend had not arrived, but waited still awhile, hoping the carriage 
awaiting his arrival at the depot might bring him—then, calling me to 
his bedside, he inquired if everything had been done, and having been 
informed that our resources had been exhausted, he said : “It will be too 
late. It must be manifest to you that I am dying. For four days I have 
struggled against this, but it is no use, the end is near. I must entrust 
to you what I wished to have said to Thus he began, and with 
marked deliberation, calmness and clearness, he communicated his re- 
quests. This interview having been concluded he asked for his mother, 
who immediately entered his chamber from the adjoining room. I know 
not what passed, but in bidding her good-bye, he said : “Mother, next to 
the immediate family, hold these friends who have been with me during 
my illuess forever in affectionate remembrance.” Next he called his sis- 
ter, and brother’s wife, and then the brothers, one by one ; to each he 
spoke words of comfort, and bade each an affectionate and final farewell. 
Pausing a moment and looking away, he suddenly turned towards a 
brother presenting the infant nephew, and with outstretched arms he 
bade Joe come to him, clasped him in his arms, kissed him and returned 
him to his father. Next came the interview with a lady whom he held 
in high esteem, who had remained near him during his illness, rendering 
2 valuable assistance and offering consolation to the afflicted family. And 
now, came tottering to his bedside the old family servant. He grasped 
her hands and said : “ You nursed me during my infancy, and have al- 
ways been faithful to me. I do not wish to die, hut it is so,” and draw- 
ing her to him, kissed her and hade he r, too, a final good-bye. He, alone, 
passed through this trying'and afflicting scene unmoved. Not once did 
his voice falter, never for one moment did he lose himself, but all his 
utterances were delivered with such calmness as I had never witnessed. 
After resting for a time, seeming to be reflecting whether any one had 
been omitted, he asked for Dr Coues, the companion of his boyhood and 
firm friend of his maturer years, and to him, when parting, he said, “Pre- 
sent my compliments and regards to Mrs. Coues.” Subsequently, he in- 
quired for the family, and when told they were in the adjoining room, he 
bade me tell them to “remain there and be at his bed-side when he died.” 
Later still, he offered recognition to a valued friend who had been hastily 
summoned to his dying chamber. When all this had passed, the mental 
aberrations of rapidly approaching death began. With an occasional 
irrelevant inquiry concerning some patient and the giving of precise 
directions to another, he lingered on, when suddenly, seeming to re-possess 
himself, he exclaimed, “Au revoir,” and died, surrounded by his family 
and friends. 
After which Drs. A. Y. P. Garnett, J. T. Young, A. F. A. King, and 
Chas. E. Hagner, were appointed a Committee to draft suitable resolu- 
tions ; to which Committee the President was added by a motion to that 
effect. While this Committee were framing their resolutions,— 
Dr. Thos. Antisell spoke of his long acquaintance professionally with 
our deceased brother, which enabled him to form an estimate of his char- 
acter as well as his attainments, and was happy to be able to endorse the 
feeling and appropriate remarks made by the silver-tongued President. 
The deceased had a most evenly-baianced mind, an intense love for his 
profession, and his estimate of self was exceedingly moderate. One of 
his very last acts in this Society was a report upon a case presented here. 
His education was complete, and whilst in Europe he became M. R. C. 
S., London. It was sad to see such a life closed before the course was 
run, for the deceased bid fair to become an ornament to the profession 
and a light in the Society, and although as yet he had not shown the 
results of his fine education and mind, there was apparently the promise 
of ample time to bring his fine gifts to their full fruition. 
When the Committee submitted the following resolutions: 
Inasmuch as the hand of death has suddenly stricken down our be- 
loved colleague and professional brother, Dr. William B. Driukard ; 
therefore, 
Resolved, That in the decease of our lamented friend we recognize the 
loss of an admired associate, who was always faithful in the discharge of 
every duty pertaining to his membership in this Society. 
Resolved, That in his death the medical profession of the District has 
been deprived of one of its brightest ornaments—an earnest student, an 
able instructor, a skillful and conscientious practitioner, and one whose 
3 4 
never-failing industry in, and scrupulous attention to, the duties arising 
from the various positions of trust and responsibility which had devolved 
upon him as the well-merited reward of a life only half spent—no words 
of eulogy can adequately express our appreciation of his manly virtues. 
Resolved, That the beauty and purity of bis noble private character, 
his tender goodness of heart, his gentleness and dignity of manner, his 
faithful friendship, and (to those of us who witnessed it) his manly hero- 
ism in death, will remain as pleasant souvenirs to mingle with the deep 
regret and exalted respect with which we shall ever cherish his memory. 
Resolved, That we present to his afflicted family a copy of these resolu- 
tions as an expression of an earnest desire to pour into their grief-stricken 
hearts a full measure of sincere condolence. 
Resolved, That, as a further mark of esteem, we will attend in a body 
the funeral obsequies of our departed brother. 
Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be furnished to the daily 
press for publication. 
Alex. Y. P. Garnett, 
James T. Young, 
S. C. Busey, 
A. F. A. King, 
Chas. E. Hagner. 
At the close of the reading of these resolutions the following remarks 
were made by Dr. A. Y. P. Garnett: 
But a few short months have elapsed, Mr. President, since this Society 
was called upon to mourn the loss of one of its oldest, most honored and 
highly esteemed members, and we are again summoned by one of those 
inscrutable and seemingly harsh dispensations of Providence to mingle 
our sympathies, our sorrows and our affections over the silent bier of 
another beloved brother, who has been so suddenly and so painfully 
snatched from our midst. In the former, ’tis true, sir, that our sorrow 
found a tempering solace in the fact that our departed friend had been 
permitted to attain the full fruition of a laborious, useful and distinguished 
career—passing away with peaceful tranquillity in the evening of life, 
when the three score and ten years allotted to man had been nearly 
reached. 
As the faint outlines of eternity begin to cast their shadows over each 
earthly pilgrim journeying thither with unceasing step, we naturally and 
instinctively accommodate our feelings to the coming ordeal, and learn 
to contemplate, with submissive resignation, the dreaded moment when 
some cherished friend is called away forever. 
The element of (decay and death, as a part of the human system, 
teaches us to look forward to death in the aged as an inevitable part of 
the plan of nature and serves to mitigate its sting. 
But, Mr. President, what a painful, what a harrowing contrast does 
the sad event by which we are confronted to-night present. Not the ma- 
ture and ripe old age of manhood, but the young, the bouyant, the hope- 
ful, the aspiring, the ambitious, has been cut down. He who but a few 
years since sprang into the arena of life full of lofty ambition, and pos- 
sessed of the highest order of talent, carefully and assiduously cultivated, 
whose mental endowments were only equalled by those fascinating social 5 
embellishments which so conspicuously characterized him, on the very 
threshold of a brilliant and successful future, has been so mysteriously 
taken to that bourne whence no man returns. 
Verily, sir, does it seem that in this instance has death shown that he 
loves a shining mark. Those whom the gods love die young, is an ex- 
pression which has come down to us from the days of the ancients, and 
we have to-night another occasion to keenly, sorrowfully feel its truth. 
William Beverly Drinkard has passed from us at the early age of 
thirty-four. A Virginian by birth, for he was born in the old town of 
Williamsburg, on the 7th day of December, 1842, his infancy and early 
childhood was passed in the courtly atmosphere which still surrounded 
the metropolis of the colonial days, and in his nature was implanted that 
winning courtesy which was so marked a characteristic of his bearing. 
His father moving to Washington to reside in 1857, Dr. Drinkard was 
placed under the tutorship of Charles B. Young, Esq., of this city, whose 
admiration was won by the thorough and conscientious scholarship of his 
pupil, and between whom and himself there has ever since existed a 
warm friendship, now ended, alas, by death. 
After passing through school he entered Georgetown College, where he 
remained until the spring of 1860, at which time, before completing the 
usual course of study, he left for the purpose of visiting Europe, setting 
sail, therefor in May, 1860. More than the next four years were spent 
by him in acquiring in the capitals of the Old World those stores of 
knowledge and learning with which he was so richly provided. First 
stopping in England he, after a short stay, went to Orleans, France, and 
there continued his academic studies; from that city he subsequently re- 
moved to Paris and entered upon the study of medicine. He remained 
in Paris some four yeais, attending the lectures of some of the most dis- 
tinguished lights of our profession, among whom were Velpeau, Nelaton, 
Gosselin, Grisolle, and Trosseau. In his course of study he devoted es- 
pecial attention to diseases of the eye, being assistant at the clinic of 
Desmarres, and from whom he received especial marks of esteem. He 
was also interne of various hospitals, completing his course of study in 
London, where he received the degree of M. R. C. S. in July, 1865, and 
returned to this country in the fall of the same year; matriculated in the 
National Medical College of the District of Columbia on the 2d day of 
November, 1865, and graduated thereform in March, 1866, settling im- 
mediately as a practitioner in this city. To you who knew him his sub- 
sequent history needs no commentator. We who saw him in daily life, 
who met him at the bedside of the sick, in the Hall of this Society, in 
social life ; we who learned to know, respect, and honor him as a man, 
friend, and brother physician, all witnessed with unselfish pride the rap- 
idity with which he assumed that high position in our midst, and to 
which he was so justly entitled. 
After discharging for some time the duties of demonstrator he was in 
July, 1872, elected professor of anatomy in the National Medical College 
of the District of Columbia, his medical alma mater, and filled the chair 
with marked ability. No later than last week he delivered, in that quiet 
but impressive manner peculiar to him, his final lecture to his class. No 
farewell word was spoken, but as he closed, his voice was hushed never 
again to be heard in those halls. 
It has been said by some cynical writers on life that the great world 6 
closes over us as we depart and leaves uo void to mark our place. The 
death of such men as Dr. Drinkard proves the fallacy of this statement. 
He was one of those noble souls who, in the words of the poet, leave foot- 
prints on the sands of time. 
As long as the Children’s Hospital of this city slnill exist so long will 
it be one of the many monuments he has left of his self-sacrificing kind- 
ness of heart, for he was one of its original founders, and was a member 
of its medical board at the time of his death, in which capacity he had 
especial charge of diseases of the eye and ear. 
Ever ready to aid all institutions founded for the relief of suffering 
humanity, he was, up to a short time since, a member of the advisory and 
consulting board of surgeons and physicians to the Columbian Lying-in 
Hospital, and upon the occasion of the recent resignation of that board, 
it was to his calm judgment and able pen that the task of drawing the 
letter of resignation was confided. 
He also held the position of consulting physician of the Louise Home, 
and was one of the attending physicians of the Protestant Orphan Asy- 
lum, displaying by his active labors his preeminent devotion to the 
greatest of all the virtues—charity. In addition, he was a most highly 
esteemed member of this Society, which has now assembled to do honor 
to his memory. 
I leave it to others, Mr. President, who, as chosen friends and profes- 
sional attendants, remained near his person to the last, and as witnesses 
of the sublime spectacle which he exhibited at that trying moment, to 
portray to you the heroic struggle and final triumph of a trained intellect 
over the physical pangs of dissolution. I will only add that his habitual 
punctilious courtesy and generous self-abnegation never for one moment 
forsook him ; passing through the harrowing and agonizing scene of bid- 
ding adieu to those who were nearest and dearest to him on this earth 
with manly fortitude and womanly tenderness, he closed his eyes and 
with a firm voice uttered the last significant and pregnant words, cm 
revoir ! 
I)r. J. M. Toner moved that the resolutions be adopted. 
Dr. F. A. Ashford, in seconding the resolutions, had prepared no ad- 
dress ; he spoke of the inefficiency of language to give true expression to 
the grief and sorrow which every member of the profession in this Dis- 
trict experienced in the death of Dr. Drinkard. The resolutions, “ though 
so true and faithful; though so beautiful and earnest, yet they cannot 
give that reflex from the heart, that deep personal sympathy and sorrow, 
which we all feel to a greater or less degree. We are stricken with a 
sore anguish to-night, which finds no alleviation in words; with a sorrow 
which finds no consolation in rounded periods; with a grief which knows 
no assuagement in rhetoric. Mere syllables fall discordant upon our 
senses—only the silent tear and suppressed sob are in harmony with our 
feelings.” He had known Dr. Drinkard “ as classmate, friend and broth- 
er ; he had known him as a physician and as a man ; he had known him 
as pupil and as professor. In each and every capacity he was great; in 
every circumstance and act he was noble; in every relation of life he 
was true and faithful.” 
He then adverted to the characteristics of the deceased : “ his liberal 
sentiments; his punctilious bearing; his unswerving integrity; his deli- 7 
cate regard for the feelings of others; his elegant, sympathetic suavity of 
manner; his purity of life; his disinterested friendship; his varied at- 
tainments; his great learning ; his sound wisdom ; his cautious prudence, 
and his high order of talents.” 
Dr. Ashford concluded by referring to his “inner life as nobler still— 
grander still. . . . These higher virtues will remain uncounted, but 
every one who knew and was brought into contact with his beautiful life 
will feel that he has been the better by such an association.” 
Dr. J. AV. H. Lovejoy said: 
Mr. President, my long acquaintance with Dr. Drinkard and my ad- 
miration for his many estimable qualities impel me to bear my tribute to 
his memory on this occasion. 
I knew him well from his boyhood and I have never known a person 
who changed so little in the essentials of character as he, only that his 
excellent moral and intellectual qualities were developed with his man- 
hood and grew with his growth. A boy, with the feelings and breeding 
of a gentleman, moral, steady, studious and intelligent, he grew up to 
be the man we all knew him: a large-hearted man, one of an expanded 
mind and great acquirements. AVell educated in his youth, thoroughly 
instructed in the principles of our profession, he never failed to make in- 
telligent use of the lessons of experience. He had already secured an 
enviable reputation and possessed the intellect and training which, had 
he lived, would have made him one of the shining lights of our profession. 
There are too few such men in the world. Such a man is a loss not 
only to his family, to this Society, to the profession of medicine, but to 
humanity itself, which could not have failed to derive benefit from the 
results of his ripened experience. 
He lived a noble life, consistent throughout its honorable course, and 
died as he had lived, a thoughtful, kind and affable gentlem'an. 
I have heard from one of the companions of his boyhood, who was with 
him in his last moments, that in occasional attacks of delirium his talk 
was constantly of his patients, that he imagined himself prescribing for 
them and giving them advice; but when roused to a sense of his situa- 
tion, and when he had occasion to ask for any assistance it was always 
done with an apology for the trouble he might give, and in the refined 
and polite manner which, with him, was hardly an acquirement but an 
instinct of nature: and, at the very last, with his family and friends 
around him he, with perfect composure and self-possession, instead of 
bidding them a last good-bye, used the expression, “Au revoir.” 
I have heard often of the last words of great men, many of them com- 
manding admiration by their exalting and soul-stirring grandeur, but 
never have I been so impressed as by the sublimity of this expression. 
Whether the idea of the immortality of the soul was planted in the 
mind of man at the birth of humanity, or whether it was the invention of 
the early philosophers and metaphysicians, it will not become me here to 
inquire; but it is one so gratifying to the vanity and self-importance of 
human nature and so grateful to our affections, that I think not one of us 
would relinquish it without a pang. 
The grandest and most eloquent expression ever uttered of a belief in 
that sublime idea is condensed in the “Au revoir” of Dr. Drinkard. 
May I live and die in this belief! 8 
Dr. Chas. E. Hagner said : 
Mr. President: AVhen one cannot bring his mind to realize that a 
friend has indeed been called from the accustomed sphere of his useful- 
ness and “ that the place that knew him shall know him no more,” how 
difficult is it to give utterance to your thoughts and feelings and do jus- 
tice to his merits. 
My conscience would reproach me should this occasion pass, without 
my feeble tribute being paid to the memory of our departed brother. 
Dr. Drinkard has been for the past six years associated with me, as 
the attending surgeon and oculist to the Washington City Orphan Asy- 
lum. It was here I first learned to know and appreciate his noble quali- 
ties of mind and heart; always ready, courteous, discreet and conserva- 
tive, I have many times received the benefits of his clear and dispassion- 
ate judgment. 
We all know that of his profession he had a minute, exact and scien- 
tific knowledge, second to no one in it; of his qualities of heart, gentle- 
ness, modesty, and unselfishness, such as is seldom seen in one of his sex. 
Such qualities endeared him to all, and made him often the umpire on 
whose just judgment every one relied. If there is truth in the doctrine 
held by the ancients that the spirits of the departed freed from their 
earthly cerements love to linger about their accustomed terrestrial haunts, 
which of us could wish for more when the dread messenger shall claim 
our bodies, than that our shades should see such sorrow and grief depic- 
ted on the faces of all our fellows both young and old. 
Dr. J. Ford Thompson said : 
Mr. President: But a few short months ago we met in this hall to 
mourn the loss of one of our oldest and most honored members, one whose 
life had been uninterruptedly devoted to his profession, one who had 
gained all its honors and possessed all the blessings that a well-spent life 
can bestow. Whilst listening upon that occasion to the merited eulogies 
offered to his memory, I glanced around and within to discover if possi- 
ble something that might indicate the next victim of the fell destroyer. 
I saw around me men of all ages; many loaded with years and honors, 
others full of youth and health and hope, but reflections suggested that 
not from these can we predict of the uncertainties of life. Among them 
present with sorrowing heart was our deceased friend, and the hope would 
naturally arise that he might long remain among us to adorn and enno- 
ble the profession he so much loved. But the caprices of death are be- 
yond all human comprehension, and we are met thus early to express our 
sorrow at his early and untimely death. 
It has been my good fortune to have known Dr. Drinkard from his 
student days in various professional relations, and have therefore had 
ample opportunity of observing his character and attainments, which 
have always filled me with respect and admiration, such as are rarely 
felt towards one so early in life. Indeed, I have never met such a per- 
fect and happy combination of all the elements which constitute a typi- 
cal gentleman and physician as in Dr. Drinkard. I never saw him 
ruffled by temper or heard an unkind word from him towards any human 
being, nor have I ever known any one to speak unkindly or unfriendly 
of him, which shows, I think, the purity of the man, far more than any 9 
praises that may be lavished upon him. He was one of the few men 
whom I have known who seemed to have been born with all the pre- 
requisites to fulfil the high and responsible duties of a physician’s life, a 
life which is unquestionably more exacting than any other occupation of 
man. Affable, gentle, courteous and kind, he was alike beloved by all 
whom he approached, either in the line of his duty or in the ordinary 
intercourse of social life. With none of the dissipations of life and with 
none of the passions which enslave the souls and minds of men ; with a 
thorough knowledge and appreciation of all the departments of profes- 
sional education, he had already gained a position in this community 
which few of us can hope to obtain even after the longest life. As a stu- 
dent he was the admiration of his teachers, and as a teacher he at once 
took that position which his attainments so richly deserved. His official 
positions will soon be filled and the world proceed in its wonted course, 
but it will be too long, I fear, before the void left by the flight of this 
noble and generous soul shall be worthily filled ; and even among those 
who shall most deeply feel his loss and longest remember his beautiful 
character, are the members of that faculty with whom he was so long 
associated, and who now sadly return his last adieu. 
Dr. Grafton Tyler had no studied remarks to make upon this sad oc- 
casion ; he had come here to testify by his presence the great regard he 
entertained for, and the grief and sorrow which he felt at, the loss of our 
beloved brother. He had upon many occasions been associated with him 
in professional consultation, particularly during the past year, and the 
more intimate he became in such association the more admiration did he 
entertain for his character. He had not heard of his illness till a few 
hours previous to his death, being informed of the latter by a patient 
who went to his office for consultation and returned with the sad intelli- 
gence. He had listened with earnest interest to the eulogiums which 
have been here passed upon him, and must say they do honor alike to 
the head and heart of the speakers and to the true character of the de- 
ceased. The recital of his demeanor during his illness and in his last 
hours is truly touching, and from such a man as he knew him to have 
been might be expected such a death. Dr. Tyler had always been im- 
pressed by the decorum, courtesy, and extreme carefulness displayed by 
the deceased in his intercourse with the profession, and in his and their 
relation to patients. His educational accomplishments and professional 
skill have been most favorably announced by previous speakers. Every 
word spoken by those who were nearer to him in age and as dear in af- 
fectionate regard, are in accord with my judgment and the emotions of 
my heart. I have never known the gentle, unassuming, true, sensitive 
and honorable traits of character more fully developed than in the life of 
Dr. Drinkard. He was always self-sacrificing, of shrinking modesty, 
while under all circumstances he maintained the character of the accom- 
plished gentleman, the skilled physician, and the calm, firm dignity of 
one who always did his duty ; ardent in the pursuit of his profession, care- 
iul and benevolent, he recognized neither riches or poverty, but to all 
alike bestowed the blessing of the sympathetic and good physician. 
Dr. Tyler came here from a sense of duty; he felt that he could add 
nothing to the eloquent tributes just paid, or to the general esteem in 
which the memory of Dr. Drinkard is held. It would seem from what 10 
has been said that he was without a fault. Here we must pause and rec- 
ognize the frailty of human nature, while I with truth declare, “ Nihil 
tetegit quod non ornavit.” When I look around I see not only unusual 
sorrow but dismay in every countenance. Who can reconcile this sud- 
den catastrophe? While it startles, shall we not dwell somewhat upon 
it. There is great mystery in the ways of Providence. Have we not 
seen a beautiful landscape with a cloudless sky, revealing each object in 
a better light, the verdure yielding gracefully to a gentle breeze, while 
the sweet melody of birds made more enchanting this elysium of security 
and peace. Suddenly a small cloud is seen in the distant horizon; the 
landscape just now so brilliant in its natural loveliness, is soon overshad- 
owed, seen only occasionally by the lightning’s flash, while thunders star- 
tle with their sudden peal. All nature trembles as the windstorm brings 
desolation in its destructive force. 
Have we not beheld a smooth ocean, no ripple upon its surface, as gen- 
tle, refreshing breezes float along, The ship laden with voyagers—some 
in quest of gain by laudable traffic—some in pursuit of knowledge—some 
to meet friends long parted—some in pilgrimage to a Holy Shrine—all 
joyous, hopeful, happy and confident in reaching the destined haven. 
Suddenly shrieks and wailing attest the storm and darkness that sur- 
rounds and the terrible shipwreck that engulphs all in a common ruin. 
Have we not seen “nature’s nobleman” in the pride of his manhood, 
endowed with qualities that made him only to be beloved, beautiful and 
fair in all that adorns human character; the ornament of his profession ; 
the pride, the solace, the support and the joy of his home, approaching 
only the acme of his greatness; with bright prospects of usefulness, honor 
and long life, suddenly stopped in his course; the sobs, the wailing, the 
anxious face and aching hearts ; the lamentation of brothers in the profes- 
sion, all show that death is near; the hurried, flickering pulse, the pant- 
ing breath, the altered face, the last farewell, attest its truth ; above the 
raging of the storm ; above the surging of the ocean ; above the agonizing 
cries of the helpless suffering ; above the hard breathing of the dying son 
of love and hope; above the shrieks and wailing of agonized hearts is 
heard a voice—“Be still, and know that I am God.” 
The hoary head is prophetic of the grave. Let the young know also 
by this visitation that death is insatiate—the days of man are not within 
his knowledge,— 
“We all must die I our every pulse that beats 
“ Beats toward eternity, and tolls our doom I” 
The resolutions were then adopted and thereupon the following were 
appointed the committee of arrangements, Drs. J. W. II. Lovejoy, Win. 
Lee and C. E. Hagner. 
C. H. A. Kleinschmidt, M. D., 
Secretary.