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flickering rays of a penny dip but deepens the gloom around; yet in both conditions, disease and death will be the same. The fascinations of voluptuous music and the mazy dance will oft be exchanged for the bedside of the dying—perchance a little sufferer upon whose brow a fond parent has placed encircling wreaths of earthly honor, alas, soon to wither and decay in the cold, dark future. Have any entered lightly on the course ? If so, I would ask you to ponder well before you take the hazard of a life. In no condition can a man be a greater blessing or a greater curse.
“A wise physician skill'd our wounds to heal,
Is more than armies for the common weal, With a just appreciation of your duties, your responsibilities, “so live that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan that moves to the mysterious realm, where each shall take his chamber in the halls of death, thou go not, like the quarry slave at night, scourged to thy dungeon.
Little did I think, while enjoying myself at this festive board last year, that another reunion evening would find me chanting the requiem of any of our number. But such is life. Although living in an hospital, brought into daily, nay, hourly contact with disease, and ofttimes death, yet never did I so fully appreciate the narrowness of that isthmus that separates the living from the dead, as when standing beside the bier of our late honorary fellow, Prof. George T. Elliott, gazing upon the ruined walls of what where ambition's airy halls, the dome of thought, the palace of the soul, and I could not help exclaiming, “Where now are all our boasted drugs, our well crammed, magazines of health, that even the mighty masters of the healing art succumb to the icy touch of Father Time's boon companion, Death ?” Never did I so feel the insignificance of man in the hands of that Divinity that shapes our ends, roughhew them as we may.
Death is a theme that hath but little pleasure in it; and although this matter has already been alluded to, yet would I be doing violence to my own feelings were I to withhold my meed of praise, my tear of sympathy, to the memory of one whom in life I delighted in, and whose death I deplore, now calmly, peacefully sleeping amid the solitude of Woodlawn
Cemetery, until the loud sound of Gabriel's brazen trump shall again awaken to life, light and liberty.
In assuming the mastery of this feast of reason and flow of love, and the Presidency of the noble Order of Æsculapius, I appreciate the honor conferred, and am not wholly oblivious to the duties and responsibilities of the position to which my brother Fellows of the O. Æ. have elected me. I trust the mantle of my predecessor, in descending upon my shoulders, will lose none of its efficacy. Enough to say, my every effort, and what ability God has given me, will be wielded to increase its influence and extend its usefulness. Excelsior shall be our watchword; and with the assistance of both officers and Fellows, I hope that as its past history has been honorable, its future may be glorious.
It is now my duty to announce the remaining courses of the feast: You already have had chicken soup by the retiring President; fish, with medico-loyal sauce by the illustrious Judge Brady, but for the life of me, I can not tell you what particular kind of fish it was, but will venture the opinion that it did not belong to the shark species. Next, Professor Wood will serve the roast, gotten up in a style peculiar to himself; after which, by way of variety, Professor McCready will hold forth on behalf of the Faculty. Messrs. Bailey and Burchard will furnish the entrés; and last, but not least, Professor Doremus will put in an appearance, with dessert for the ladies—candies, sweetmeats, and boquets, highly perfumed with sulphuretted hydrogen and other sweet-smelling gases, after having done ample justice to which, we will wish you all good night and pleasant dreams.
The doctor's address was followed by a duet, “Master and Pupil,” by Mme. Alfred and Mr. C. Anderson.
“Our Alma Mater” was feelingly responded to by Professor James R. Wood, M.D., LL.D.
The piano solo, “ Eligy of Tears,” by Mr. Walter R. Johnson, was rendered in a highly artistic and creditable manner.
“The Class of '71” was responded to by Matt. I. Bailey, M.D., in suitable terms, followed by a song, “The Return,” by Mme. Alfred. which was heartily encored.
“The 0. Æ.” called up Mr. T. Herring Burchard, who, after an introductory flourish of trumpets, explaining the objects of the society, said :
“No organization was ever instituted for better purposes : first, by mutual criticism and debate upon medical topics would we qualify ourselves to assume the responsibilities devolving upon the intelligent and scientific practitioners. The speaker pleaded for a higher professional scholarship. A Cincinnatus or a Putnam may have been taken from their plow, or a Greene from his forge, and right nobly may they have fought to secure national independence; but he maintained that a man fresh from the workshop or the farm, be he ever so naturally endowed, without previous mental discipline, is unqualified even to enter upon the study, much less, as too often is the case, upon the practice of the heeling art. The interests were too much, the responsibilities too momentous for one ignorant of the fundamental principles of science to assume, when the stake is one of human life. Farther than this: the Society aims to develop the higher elements, the social of our nature. In referring to our late honorary member, Professor Geo. T. Elliott, the speaker said:
“But e'en while the notes of our triumph are swelling,
And mirth claims the hour for rejoicing and song,
Of one who is gone from this festival throng;
Grow dim with the shadows that time doth impart,
The wreath of our brotherhood round every heart.
Shall burst o’er thy tomb and bid thee arise,
Shall welcome thee there to thy home in the skies." But the hour of parting has come, and to our companions of pleasant hours, spent in the fellowship of our mystic order, must we now bid a sad but final farewell.
After the speaker had concluded, Mr. C. Anderson sang the comic song, “The Merrie Little Fat Gray Man,” which being loudly encored, was followed by chanting the obituary of the late lamented Lord Lovell. On a second encore, Mr. Anderson favored the audience with a synopsis of “Mrs. Watkins' Evening Party."
“The Ladies” was responded to by Professor R. Ogden Doremus, M.D., a gentleman whose literary acquirements and fluency of speech has given him a place among the favorite lecturers of the city.
The entertainment appropriately concluded by the singing of "Those Evening Bells," by Mme. Alfred, Mr. C. Anderson and Mr. F. Crane.
The following resolutions were presented to the retiring President, Dr. E. C, Harwood:
WHEREAS, Our President, Ed. C. Harwood, M. D., has been unceasing in his labors and endeavours to elevate, sustain, and extend the bounds of usefulness of this Society, during the three distinctive terms of his office, extending over a period of three years, now about to expire; and
WHEREAS, In view of the foregoing facts, deeming it just and proper that we should give some expression of our estimation of him as a member, friend, medical man, and executive officer; therefore be it
Resolved, That the impartial and judicious discharge of the executive duties of this Society by Dr. Ed. C. Harwood, for the three years during which he has presided over our deliberations, claim our respect, and the thanks of the Society be extended to him for the interest he has in various ways evinced for our welfare, and the personal efforts and sacrifices he has made to promote the same, both in his capacity as a member and executive officer.
Resolved, That we herewith express our appreciaton of his talents, esteem for his virtues, and kind wishes for his future success and happiness.
Resolved, That these resolutions be read on the evening of the Seventh Annual Re-union, by the President elect, and a copy of the same be sent to Dr. Harwood.
In Testimony Whereof, we have hereunto set our hands
and caused the seal of our Order to be affixed this 27th day of February, in the year of our Lord
One Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy-one. J. WALLACE MCWHINNIE, M. D., GEORGE F. BATES, M. D. Pesident.