The opening up and peopling of the great Western Hemisphere brought with them the need for medical schools; and, as the Yankee never half way accomplishes a grand idea, and with the experience of these schools in these past centuries, is it any wonder that we excel; and that in our schools are met the child of the Nile, Arabia's and China's dark skinned children, and the Savans of Oxford, Heidleburg, and Paris? Indeed, no; for the stability and brilliancy of the acquisitive medical mind of this country with the Fulton's, Howe's, Morse's, Edison's, and Ead's have kept square abreast of all advancement, and by scientific attainments of high order, have established a reputation. for medical knowledge and surgical art far surpassing all others.

Far in the bleak regions of a frigid North the glorious sunlight is shut out for long weary, wintry months, but about the termination of this wintry night, a sentinel is placed upon the highest grounds with connecting posts down to the habitable valley; and, as the first red streaks of solar rays break through the sensible horizon of this long, wintry night, first, from sentinels on the summit of the peaks rings out the glad acclaim: "the sun, the sun," then down to the last, this joyous news is wafted from post to post, and to the people. So, too, in the far distant past Esculapius saw the light, and from this dark epoch he sounded a glad acclaim. From the sunny clime of Florence rang the welcome sound. Draco sang this light. Erastratus, Celsus, and Galen proclaimed, with no uncertain sound, the light they saw. Racamer (inventor of the speculum), from his profound emimence, discovered a light that brought to woman many joys. Velpean, DePaul, and Ramsbotham's quick eyes caught the glow, and as the brightening rays fell upon their minds, true to their trusts, they passed the word on down to Meiggs and McDowell, and to the mighty army of their day, who in turn passed the mystic word on down to Alabam's magnolia perfumed clime where Bozeman, Sims, and Nott stood as faithful sentinels on fame's watch-tower, and these great men proclaimed the light in grander tones than all their predecessors, until as if by one radiant scintillation from full orbed suns, a halo of light fell on thousand who had groped in a long night of darkness, and all earth is made glad by woman's joyous smile where erst a while was naught but piteous groans and anguish unrelieved.

The immortal Harvey, looking back through the long, dark ages, saw this light as its rich current coursed through the natural irculation. Ambrose Pare ligated this light as it fell upon his great soul. Mal

gaigne, reaching out, bound it to many a shattered frame, and transmitted on down to ready messengers, of whom was Dungleson, Erichsen, Claude Bernard, Gross, Frank Hamilton and Stone, until yet another peak was reached, where stood Long, Wells, Guthrie and Simpson, who proclaimed yet a more brilliant ray to all this gorgeous light; and an Esmarch and Lister, the Agnews, a Bigelow, and Otis, shed their lights abroad until all obscurity is, as it were, transformed into a soft electric effulgence, which defies and banishes the darkness that permitted blood and pain, and tardy reparation; and while these were all heralding the glad, bright light, Eberly and Tanner, Rush and Wood, Watson and Trousseau, Barthlow and our Flint, with alembic light received from Chevren, Fownes, Sir Humphry Davy, and a Draper, passed it yet on down to trusted ones who are here in your midst, shedding these lights into the dark chambers of many a weeping, clouded household, bringing joy and happiness to thousands all over this State. And the long, dark wintry night is over; bright happy spring is passed and harvest time has come; natural and accidental darkness has given away to a brilliant noonday flood of light that shines for all, and thrice happy the people who have this light, and the student who lives in this nineteenth century, for it is certainly the scientific era of the world.

DR. SWEARINGEN'S EULOGY DELIVERED AT THE MEETING OF THE STATE MEDICAL ASSOCIATION AT

BELTON, ON THE LIFE AND DEATH

OF DR. T. D. MANNING.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN : The State Medical Association held in Sherman, 1879, requested me to express regrets of members of the Association at the death of Dr. T. D. Manning, who died in Holly Springs, Miss., of yellow fever, September, 20, 1878.

Since then varions causes have prevented my presence at your regular meetings, and as this is the first opportunity offered for me to pay an humble tribute to my lamented friend, I know that this generous audience will pardon me for throwing a myrtle wreath over the beautiful garland already presented by our distinguished President.

'Tis true, many winters and summers have come and gone, and five generations of flowers, planted so tenderly upon Manning's grave, have bloomed and died and been forgotten! but, ladies and gentlemen, a life such as his cannot so soon be swept from the memories of men. Like the light of a blighted star, it will shine on, and on, and on, long years after the star itself is blotted from the heavens forever.

This charming hospitable city was once his home, and many of my hearers will know this brief eulogy is not an extravagant laudation.

I perhaps knew him better than any one, was associated with him in the same office for years, and saw him in every position calculated to test, exhibit and develop the human character.

I have seen him in the shadow of sorrow, and in the sunlight of happiness; when elated by triumph and when depressed by defeat; when censured and wronged, when commended and applauded; in the vigor of health, and in the agonies of death, and in every position found him filling to completeness the most perfect model of a pure, lofty, noble manhood.

As a physician he was honest, earnest and faithful. Too generous to be jealous; too great to be little. He needed no written ethics to

guide his professional steps. In his bearing toward his brethren his fine nature always exhibited that delicate consideration and splendid ethics that can only be written by the God of nature in the heart and soul of a medical man.

By no word or nod, or shrug of the shoulders, or wise look of conscious superiority, did he ever try to elevate himself on the ruin of another. No! He would not have planted his foot on the prostrate form of the humblest co-worker with him in the great field of disease and death, for the fadeless laurels of a Hunter or the immortelles that must live forever above the tomb of Jenner.

Endowed with a brilliant mind highly trained and well cultured, he grasped and mastered everything that could make him more efficient, and thus armed and equipped he scorned all tricks of trades and relied solely upon his own work and own genius for the reputation that was so rapidly won and that was so richly merited. Although young in years, his scholarly attainments and brilliant successes had given him high rank in the profession of Texas, and pointed to altitudes never yet reached by any of her gifted sons.

As a gentleman he was a finished model, and never, under any circumstances or conditions, did he forget that he was a gentleman.

He possessed all the elements of a manly character, so evenly balanced and distinctly marked that modesty was not mistaken for timidity nor self-reliance for arrogance.

He could exhibit pride without vanity, courage without bravado, charity without weakness, piety without fanaticism, and, rarest of all, purity without effeminacy, for he had nerves of steel, and could have carried the eagles of Napoleon or led the charge of the Light Brigade, a very arch-angel of war.

In his matchless character there was a symmetrical, harmonious blending of all that is pure and beautiful in woman, and of all that is noble and lofty in man.

His finely turned, sympathetic nature caught the vibration, and responded to every note of human suffering. Where some would bestow charities with great caution, fearful lest an unworthy object might be the recipient, he gave with a lavish hand, as though it were a pleasure and a blessed privilege to give.

He keenly appreciated and always remembered the duties, responsi bilities and grandeur of his high calling; and when clothed in greater than magician's power he touched even a homeless mendicant, over

whose eyes an eternal night had settled, and said, "let there be light, and there was light," his generous heart was filled with a triumphant ecstacy that conquerors never felt and that crowns could not bestow.

It was an impulse of that fine nature, and a God-like aspiration to accomplish greater and better things, that induced him to take that last ill-fated pilgrimage.

Many of his friends believed that it was a reckless act, and that ambition was the inspiration.

Well, he did have a vaulting ambition, but it was not that twin sister of vanity, forever thirsting for the world's applause. He instinctively shrank from demonstrations that would have given blissful satisfaction to the pigmies of our race, but he could, and did, walk serenely into the valley of death, to surpass all other men in doing good.

We

It was called rash, because he had never had the yellow fever. all know if he had passed through an epidemic, his going to a second one would have given no evidence of courage, for there would have been but little if any danger connected with it. No, gentlemen; the English language should furnish a better word to describe the motive power that impels a heroic soul to a grand immolation.

If his going to the relief of Memphis, and from there on down to beautiful, flower-crowned Holly Springs, to battle and die with her brave men and women, was a rash act, in all reverence I say it was rash in the Savior we worship to leave the courts of Heaven to redeem a fallen race. The One came at the bidding of the Father, the other went, impelled by the same spirit that gave splendor to the Hill of Calvary when temples and stars and heaven and earth reeled and rocked to the martyrdom of a God.

Men only perform reckless deeds calmly and deliberately when life offers no attractions, and oblivion alone promises comfort. Life for him was full of charms.

Every ripple of the river had a melody. Success and prosperity, hand-maidens of pleasure, came at his command. Fame had already proclaimed him a favorite child, and showered honors upon him. Friendship's richest tributes were around him. Hope's daintiest artist had frescoed a future of golden beauties, and love, almost divine in its purity, filled his heart with its sweet, soft, mystic music, as long as that manly heart beat the march of life.

Thus surrounded, with every effort crowned with success, with every day gemmed with a triumph, and every hour sparkling with joy, in the