ORATION. (continued 2)

A curious illustration of the observant mind of Sir H. Sloane is furnished by the fact of his having noticed that the natives of the West Indian Islands, who eat much of the green fat of the turtle, perspired a yellow oil; the explanation being that the true green fat of the turtle is a green-coloured cellular tissue enclosing a yellow oil, which passes through the system undigested. The anatomical data on which this statement is 88advanced have been, at a comparatively recent period, verified by actual experiments performed by the late Dr. Pereira, assisted by our much esteemed former President, Dr. Daldy. It occurred to my mind that this fact in dietetics might present a lesson of caution to an audience peculiarly exposed, as citizens of London, to the temptation of eating a material, which, however appetising, is incapable of healthy assimilation.

In a sketch of such limited pretension we are compelled to pass over names well deserving a niche in the temple of Esculapius:—every letter of the alphabet furnishes its contingent. To many of the men, into whose labours we have here entered, the civilised world is indebted for their contributions to general literature, as well as to the science of medicine; and in our endeavour to chronicle their importance, we can never cease to admire the fertility of their talents, and the extent of their industry in bringing to light so much useful knowledge out of the scanty materials by which their enquiries were aided:—Akenside, Bacon, Boyle, Blackmore, Cheselden, Darwin, Petty, Ray, among others, may be noted as examples.

89We have now reached the period at which legitimate medicine was established in this country; and as my discourse has already exceeded the assigned limits, it remains only to record our solemn tribute of the affectionate remembrance we all entertain towards those members of our society whose faces we shall so sadly miss in our next sessional meetings. Constituted as our cherished society is, as a friendly gathering of kindred spirits, actuated by mutual necessities, meeting as brothers, knowing no rivalry but the desire to impart, each to other, the results of our matured experience, it is with more than ordinary grief that we bow submissively when Providence sees fit to lessen our numbers by death.

But it is not we alone who have sustained a loss. The name of Barlow will live for ages to come as the type of the scientific physician of the nineteenth century. A man of cultivated intellect, of elegant mind and blameless life, of calm judgment and exalted feeling, I look upon his death as nothing less than a calamity to the whole medical profession.

Too soon, alas! after him, we were shocked by the almost sudden removal of the accomplished and genial 90Jeaffreson, endeared to his brethren by those solid endowments which mark and govern the high minded practitioner and amiable gentleman—no less than to the public by those qualities that are inherent in a warm, kindly, and generous nature. And, what then shall we say of our dear friend, Henry Blenkarne, so recently carried to his rest. Who can ever forget his pure and simple nature, his spotless life, and those endearing virtues which attached him so closely to all whose privilege it was to enjoy his friendship—one of Nature’s gentlemen, delicate and considerate of the feelings of others, generous to the poor at the sacrifice of his valuable life, ready at all seasons to give his time for the promotion of any and every benevolent scheme in connexion with our calling; we shall long mourn over the good old man. As I stood by and saw his remains committed to the ground but the other day, my mind reverted to the other honoured members I have mentioned, and I felt that one and all had realized and fulfilled to the letter the following monition of Bacon:—

“I hold every man a debtor to his profession, from the which as men of course do seek to receive 91countenance and profit, so ought they of duty to endeavour themselves, by way of amends, to be a help and ornament thereunto.”

I now beg permission to draw the curtain. I have laid before you, with but little skill, some rapid sketches of our illustrious predecessors. I have shown how worthily they have fulfilled their mission; and, having approached the advent of that great man, to whose memory we dedicate this evening, I make my bow and retire, first thanking you for the attention you have accorded to my dull recital. I pause now because I can add nothing to your knowledge of the character and labours of John Hunter. His patience under such difficulties as would have destroyed an ordinary worker, and his sublime indifference to personal comfort and advantage when the interest of that science, which he so well loved was in question—are “familiar in your ears as household words.”

But, whilst we honour him by these periodical meetings, and by the discussion of subjects the elaboration of which formed the happiness of his life, it is only in the great museum, founded by his energy, that the grandeur of his character can be felt.

92In that hallowed path, in which he delighted to tread, the mantle of his genius has fallen upon one who, with a kindred love, aided by the marvellous instinct of his own original mind, still follows out the investigations of the great author, adding each day something to the knowledgeknowledge which went before, and still turning over some new page of the book of Nature, wherein the finger of God has written, in characters hitherto undeciphered, fresh evidences of His glorious infinity. Under the auspices of our honorary member, Professor Owen, we gaze and admire.