^okT^l^^'^'^^L HX64094049 R154.B96 B96 A '/luvfinirwlhana ii ^ l|i . m^^^ L i " i I! j i I '■ : .1 I Jiii^ ;.ill.RO::li|!p ■, miht€itr>tf(Mt\»fcxk iAtUvmtt library Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from Open Knowledge Commons http://www.archive.org/details/souvenirwithautoOObuse 'DONATIO PERFICITUR P0SSES8I0NE ACCIPIENTIS." A SOUVENIR AUTOBIOCRAnilCAL SKETCH OF EARLY LIFE SELECTED MISCELLANEOUS ADDRESSES AND COMMUNICATIONS. BY SAMUEL CLAGETT BUSEY, M.D., LL.D., PRESIDENT OF THE MEDICAL SOCIETY OF THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, 1S77, 1894, 1895, 18% CITY OF WASHINGTON. D. C. 1896. Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1896, by SAMUEL CLAGETT BUSEY, in the ofiSce of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington, D. C. 1? \5^.3^^ DORNAN, PKINTER, PHILADELPHIA. COxNTENTS. PAOR A souvenir ........... 9 An autobiographical sketch of early life ...... 13 Birth and genealogy, 14; mother and father, 10; Clagett family and genealogy, 17 ; Clagett Wliite and family, 18 ; Uncle Will and Aunt Hannah, 19; Bethesda Church, 21; William Grindage and West Point, 23; fox-hunting, 24; Potomac River boatmen, 26; homestead, 27; Bowie Run and Cabin John, 28; evening social assemblages, 29 ; tallow-dip candles, 30 ; poultry- raising, 31 ; early period of life, 33 ; pleasures and pastimes, 34 ; fishing excursions, 35 ; snake-hunting, 36 ; summer environ- ments, 37 ; autumn season, 38 ; nut-gathering, 38 ; winter sea- son and evenings, 39 ; rabbit-catching, 40; Glen Echo, 41 ; Christ- mas festivities, 42; aurora borealis, 45; wood-pile, 45; stormy weather, 46 ; hog-killing, 47 ; smoke-house, 48 ; herring-catch- ing, 48; sheep-shearing, 49; country weavers, 50; disappoint- ments, 50 ; Buddy Gus, 51 ; hardening boys, 53 ; Alfred and Tom, 53, 54; brother William, 54; country boys, 56, sickness, blood and blind boils, 57 ; school days, 59 ; Nathan Loughborough, 60; lock-out, 61; orchard farm, 63, visits to Georgetown, 63; market days, 65 ; James Wallace and Ellen Snowden, 66 ; Fourth of July Sunday-school, 67 ; barbecue, 68 ; inauguration of Wil- liam Henry Harrison, 69 ; visit to Congress, 71 ; Rockville Academy, 72; O. C. Wight, 73; smoking, 74; visits to Spring- field, 76 ; little sister, 77 ; slave families, 78 ; death of wife, 80. Address before the Medical Association of the District of Columbia on a resolution to revise its code of ethics and regulations . . 83 Gathering, packing, transportation, and sale of fresh vegetables and fruits ; their chemical constitution and nutritive value ; competent inspection and free markets for producers . . . . . 87 Address in nbstretics and diseases of women and children . . . 120 Utilizing power in head-last labor, 121 ; correction of face presentations, 122 ; the sericeps, 123; obstetrical extractors, 125; transfusion, 127 : puerperal fever, 130 ; puerperal eclampsia, 139 : menstruation, 146; uterine fibroids, 147. vi C0NTE2^TS. PAGE Address delivered at the twenty-eighth annual commencement of the Medical Department of the University of Georgetown . . . 148 Eulogy on Dr. William Beverly Drinkard 159 The Columbia Hospital and Lying-in Asylum, a government institu- tion ; its past and present management . . . . . .163 Washington malaria and the catching of cold 180 Differential diagnosis, 181 ; generation of miasmata, 182; to- pography and sewerage, 184 ; water-level, 193; ground-air, 195; ventilation and draught, 200 ; density of population, 201 ; abate- ment of evils, 202; clinical pictures, 203; catching of cold, 204; its symptomatic phenomena, 207 ; the fons et origo of indetinite ailments, 214; effects of refrigeration, 216; alcoholism, 218; fever and ague, 219; contest of pleasure, 220. First annual address of the President, delivered before the Wash- ington Obstetrical and Gynecological Society, October, 1883 . . 221 Craniotomy upon the living foetus is not justifiable, 221, 223; craniotomy an ancient operation, 224; mortality studied chrono- logically, 225; successful crauiotomist influenced by ambition, 225 ; multiple Csesarean sections, 226 ; operative substitutes for craniotomy, 227; induction of premature labor, 232; criminal abortion, 233 ; revival of Sigaultian operation, 233 ; Cesarean section and substitutes, 235; Porro operation, 237; Lungren, 237; Prof. Eustache, 239; nature will do much, 2^0; right of election, 241 ; relative value of lives, 242 ; laws of moral respon- sibilities, 243 ; diagnosis, 244. Prseses et rector, degree of LL. D. ...... . 245 Address of welcome to the American Gynecological Society, delivered at Washington, September 22, 1885 247 The hygiene of pregnancy, delivered by the President of the Wash- ington Obstetrical and Gynecological Society, October 2, 1885 . 249 Changes consequent upon pregnancy, 250 ; changes in blood, 251 ; changes in glandular system, 252 ; changes in secretory and excretory glands, 252 ; changes in mammary glands, 252 ; studies in the lymphatic system, 253 ; physiological leucocytosis, 254 ; liver and kidney, 255 ; physiological albuminuria, 257 ; similar phenomena, 258 ; management of pregnancy, 259. Address of welcome delivered to the Congress of American Physi- cians and Surgeons, September 18, 1888 ..... 263 First assemblage of Congress, 263; Index Catalogue and gov- ernment bureaus, 265 ; generosity of the government, 266 ; rela- tion of government to city, 267. Address of welcome to the American Gynecological Society, delivered at Washington, September 18, 1888 269 CONTENTS. vii PAoe Tho wron^ of (ininiotoiiiy upon the living fu-tUH .... 270 I'roviouH priidiclioii, 271; Ihwuc pl.-iinly Htated, 272; right or wroiif^ of criiniolomy, '2T''> ; not a crirno, 273; frequency of openition, 275; concei)tion, 275; tnotlier's love of oflHpring, 277; criminal abortion, 278 ; brutal epoch of craniotomy, 279 ; percentage of craniotomy, 281 ; McDowell and ovariotomy, 281 ; alternative procedures give better results, 285 ; Barnes's conclu- sions, 284; final comparison, 280; percentage of lives saved, 287 ; uncertainties of life, 288; right of selection, 288; craniotomy indirect killing of aggressor, 289 ; final statistics, 291. The Hospital for ( 'ontagious Diseases ...... 291 Address of the President at the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Medical Hocicty of the District of (Jolumbia, l-'ebruary IfJ, 1894 . 295 After-dinner speech at banquet, February K), 1894 .... 301 Address of welcome to the Association of Military Surgeons, delivered at Washington, May 1, 1894 304 Early condition of city, 306 ; condition during the war, 307 ; progress since the war, 308 ; power of the profession, 309. The Medical Society of the District of Columbia in 1894, with some important recommendations. Annual address of the President, delivered December 19, 1894 310 Progress of tlie Society, 311, 314; milk legislation, 314; amendments suggested, 315; membership by invitation, 317 ; organization of Medical Association, 318 ; revolt of citizens, 319; health department, 320; study of morbid preparations, 324; duty of young members, 325 ; erection of suitable building, 326 ; succession in office of President, 327. Address of welcome to the Southern Surgical and Gynecological Society, delivered at Washington, November 12, 1895 . . . 329 Government realty in District of Columbia, 332 ; Government Bureax of Science, 336 ; medical colleges and societies in District of Columbia, 334. Annual address of the President of the Medical Society of the Dis- trict of Columbia, delivered December 18, 1895 .... 335 Continual progress of the Society, 336 ; milk legislation, 337 ; protest of committee to Senate amendment to milk bill, 338 ; report on zymotic diseases, 341 ; medical practice law, 342 ; protest of committee to commissioners' amendment, 346 ; Dr. Custis, letter of, 349 ; conclusion from previous history, 351 ; medical schools and societies in the District of Columbia, 352 ; classification of medical practice laws in States, 353 ; Society Transactions, 357. Eeport of committee on bill relating to testimony of physicians in the courts iu the District of Columbia ...... 363 viii CONTENTS. ' PAGE Eulogy on Dr. Joseph Meredith Toner, delivered by the President of the Medical Society of the District of Columbia, October 21, 1896 ..." .368 The year 1896: an epoch in the history of the Medical Society of the District of Columbia ; annual address delivered by the Presi- dent, December 16, 1896 372 Medical practice act, 373; medical college law, 375; medical testimony act, 376 ; sanitation legislation, 377 ; publication of Transactions, 379; epoch year, 381. A SOUVENIR. In consequence of an nnfortimato accident, which occurred on April 5, 1895, 1 am no longer able, because of physical dis- abilities, to pursue, except to a very limited extent, the active duties of my profession, and am, therefore, compelled to seek diversion and employment in my library, engaged in such literary pursuit as may, from time to time, give pleasure and relief from the monotony of such enforced retirement and seclusion from the activities and responsibilities to which a long aud laborious life had become inured. During the waking hours of such a life of physical in- capacity, not wholly free from suffering, the mind naturally dwells upon the friendships and good wishes of those who have so often and so kindly, in some one of many ways, manifested the fulness of their sympathy and personal regard, that I have sought some satisfactory and appropriate method of giving expression to reciprocal esteem which such valued friends might hold as a memorial in remembrance of one who wishes to acknowledge the obligations of gratitude. How best to accomplish this purpose and not transgress the limits of good taste aud punctilio has been a subject of deliberate consideration, but the final conclusion seems to have been reached rather by the process of ratiocination than by inductive reasoning. In fulfilment of this conclusion I have brought together in this volume, in the form of a souvenir, my miscellaneous addresses delivered at different times, and under very vary- ing circumstances^ because they set forth more distinctly than any class of my publications the trend of thought that has (9) 10 A SOUVENIR. animated and directed my professional life, believing that such a compact reproduction would fully exhibit such special characteristics of miud and thought as would epitomize my life history and present the dominant traits of a long and active professional career. It may be true that this method of giving expression to my gratitude and regard for valued friendships will suggest the insinuation of egotism ; but if so, it is the egotism of that independence of thought that frees conviction and expression from the restraint of some custom " more honored in the breach than the observance." Those of my friends who will receive a copy of this Souvenir, and who may choose to read its pages, will not fail to observe that I have uniformly contended for the honor and dignity of the medical profession, which I have believed could be more effectively maintained by the dicta of a high esprit de corps than by the penal provisions of a code of ethics but rarely enforced; that the highest standard of medical education was demanded by every consideration of professional duty and obligation, and that the profession should assert its prerogatives of right and power, in that legislators and all others in authority should come to know that science must dominate public opinion in all matters pertaining to preventive and remedial medicine. Whilst I may not live to witness the full fruition of these aspirations, I have lived to see such advanced progress in medical edu- cation that I am not without the hope of their complete realization in the near future. I have not claimed origi- nality in these contentions, but have followed the teachings of many of the most distinguished and honored of the pro- fession. I hold, in common with many others, the belief that scientific medicine cannot attain the full measure of its beneficence until the profession in general has attained that standard of knowledge which only can qualify it for the performance of the responsible and beneficent duties and obligations of a life-saving profession. I maintain now, as A SOUVF.MIl. 11 I have long ago announced, that a life lost through ignorance, inattention, or neglect, is Homcthing more than a mistake to be appeased by one's complaisant promise to himself that such wrong shall not again be committed. The responsibility of misguided judgment and misap])lied resource does not cease with tlie conviction of right. Right or wrong cannot be submitted to the arbitrament of such judgment, nor dis- missed with the declaration of one's own opinion of right. The tribunal of justice is at the bar of eternity. I take this occasion to gratify a long-cherished wish to communicate to my colleagues and confreres the statement of my firm belief in the beneficence and omnipotence of Almighty God and the efficacy of prayer. INIy past experience assures me that sincere and prayerful submission to the will of God may displace doubt and fear with confidence and courage, and that in His wisdom such help may be granted as will vouch- safe results not believed to be otherwise attainable. In a recent publication entitled Personal Reminiscences and Recollections of Forty-six Years' llembership in the Medi- cal Society of the District of Columbia and Residence in this City, I have narrated many incidents and circumstances of my professional life and associations. Could I have antici- pated the favor with which that volume has been received, as well by the lay as the professional reader, I would have added many omitted details and incidents, which, as it seems to me now, might have enhanced its historical value and interest. In the one hundred and eighty letters of acknowl- edgment now in my possession — many of which are from members of the immediate families or near descendants of those to whom reference was made in the volume — there does not appear one unpleasant criticism ; on the contrary, the flattering commendations of those correspondents, and of others, verbally communicated, have been so general that I am greatly surprised, as expressed by one in high educational standing, at my "success as an author." Some have, however, criticised the omissions of a frontispiece and an autobiography 12 A SOUVENIR. of my earlier life, which, in deference to the suggestions, I now supply in this Souvenir. The following autobiographical sketch will relate to my boyhood life previous to the com- mencement of the study of medicine. The subsequent events and incidents of my life have been sufficiently set forth in the volume of Reminiscences. I have noted on the title-page the successive years of my election to the presidency of the Medical Society of the District of Columbia. No other member has attained to this distinction since 1866, the date of its organization as a scientific society devoted exclusively to the promotion and dissemination of scientific medicine. I recur to this fact because I value the distinction more highly than any honor that has come to me during my professional career, and wish to emphasize the expression of my grateful appreciation that those who will come after me may realize the honor and dignity of such distinction. AN AUTOBIOClRArillCAL SKETCH OF EARLY LIFE. I WAS born, July 23, 1828, on a farm in Montgomery County, Maryland, on which the dwelling-house was hxated, about one and a half miles east of Cabin John Bridge, and resided there, except during the school sessions of (1841-4o) the Rockville Academy, until I commenced the study of medicine in the office of Dr. Hezekiah Magruder, in George- town, D. C, in May, 1845. My mother, in her last will and testament, bequeathed the homestead and farm to my elder half-brother, Joseph Gustavus White, but provided a home at the homestead for my brother William and myself until each of us should reach the age of twenty-one years. I relinquished my privilege, and was never, after her death, at the homestead except as a casual visitor. My mother died in June, 1844, aged fifty-six, my half-brother in 1870, aged forty-nine, and my brother William in 1881, aged forty-nine. Since the death of William I have been the only survivor of the immediate family. After my half-brother took possession of the homestead, in 1844, he named it "Stony Lonesome," because of its secluded location and peculiar rock formations. In the forest surrounding and near by the dwelling-house were several enormous boulders, rising from ten to fifteen feet in height, and apparently so seated upon the apex of sharply defined elevations that they might be easily toppled over and rolled down the side of the abrupt knoll. I have occa- sionally reached the apex of some of the boulders by swing- ing from the overhanging limb of a tree, and slided pre- cipitously down the rugged side to the surface of the hill, (13) 14 - A SOUVENIR. to the great detriment of my clothes, but the amusement was too rough for frequent repetition. John Busey, my father, was the son of John Busey, and was born on a farm not far distant from "Stony Lonesome," but soon after reaching his majority took up his residence with his uncle, Samnel Buse}', on the farm known then, as now, as Springfield, situated on the old river road from Georgetown to the Great Falls of the Potomac, about one mile east of the Dalecarlia reservoir. Springfield was pur- chased in 1835 by Peter D. Posey, whose eldest daughter I married, and is now held by me, under his will, in trust for her two surviving sisters. After his marriage my father resided at the homestead of my mother, and died there in June, 1832, of an acute intestinal aifection. Until a few years ago I believed the Busey family, the first of whom settled in one of the tobacco-growing counties of Maryland, was of French descent, because I had fre- quently seen the name in French medical literature, but spelled with an accent over the letter e. After some corre- spondence witli a member of a* family of the same name, residing at Urbana, Illinois, and frequent interviews with the Hon. Samuel T. Busey, a member of the Fifty- second Congress, and one of that family, I became convinced of my error and of the correctness of their investigations, which traced the lineage of the family to Scottish origin. In proof of the Scottish origin, which the Urbana family seems to have established by direct descent, though failing to name the county in which the first emigrant settled, they cite some family characteristics, which I recognize, but I cannot con- nect my own family either with the Urbana family or with any other family bearing the same name in any other part of the country. The records of the Land Office of Maryland show that, in 1754, the Lord Proprietary patented to Edward Busey a tract of land, designated "timber land," lying in Fred- erick County. The tradition is that Edward was a Scotch SKETCH OF KAIU.Y LII-K ]5 emigrant, who left hoiih niunnd respectively Samuel, John, William, CliarloH, and Severn. After the War of the Jievo- Intion, in whieh lie was a soldier, the family, or a part of it, moved to Virj^juia and settled in the vicinity of the town now known as Danville. In 1838 the survivors of the emigrants to Virginia moved to Tcmnesseo and Kentucky, and tiieir des(!endants have scattered over the c of whom was named Thomas. The last of the eight Hii(HH',ssiv(! holders of this estate transferred it by will to his son Thomas, and in 1890 it was punihased at public auction by Charles J. Bonaparte, of Baltimore. This sale naturally excites regret that a descendant of such an ancestry should have permitted such an estate to pass away from a family which had held it in unbroken descent for a period of two hundred and twenty years, and in the soil of which, a few rods away from the dwelling, lie the remains of eight gen- erations of Thomas Clagett. The direct lineal descent of the Weston family from Captain Thomas Clagett, the emigrant, can be established as well by records on file as by documents in the possession of the surviving members of the family. In fact, the burial of the successive generations of the oldest sons, named Thomas, at Weston, clearly establishes the direct lineal descent of the Weston family from Thomas Clagett, to whom Weston was granted in 1671, and by him conveyed in 1702 to his sou Thomas, with a " remainder iutail " to the heirs of said Thomas. I refer exclusively to the direct line and lateral branches, which spell their name with one g and a double t. It is proper in this connection to state that the last who inherited the estate by entailment was married twice. His eldest son by his first marriage was named Thomas William, who left a sou Thomas, now residing at Keokuk, Prince George County, Md., whose eldest son is also named Thomas. The Thomas Clagett to whom' the estate was willed was the eldest son by his secoud marriage ; so that, by the law of primogeniture, Weston would have descended through Thomas William and the line of his eldest sou. The liueal descent of Captain Thomas Clagett, the emi- 2 18 A SOUVENIR. grant, can be established with equal certainty. He was born about 1640, came to this country in 1670, and settled in Calvert County, IMd. His father, Edward Clagett, married a daughter of Thomas Adams, Lord Mayor of London and cavalier during the reign of Charles L, 1625-49. He named his son, the emigrant Thomas, after his grandfather. Edward was the son of George Clagett, Mayor of Canterbury in 1609, 1622-32. Richard, father of George, was born about 1530, and married a daughter of Sir Robert Gouder. Robert of Mailing, Kent, the father of Richard, was born about 1490. The succession is from Robert, through Richard, George, Edward, and Captain Thomas the emigrant. Robert Clagett, of Mailing, bore the arms of the family, described as fol- lows : " Ermine on a fesse, sable, three pheons, gold ; crest, an eagle head, erased ermine, ducally crowned, or between two wings, sable." A number of the descendants of Captain Thomas Clagett were actively engaged ill the Revolutionary War as private soldiers and subordinate officers. My mother was married early in life to her first cousin, Clagett White, the only son of Joseph White, and came with him to reside with his parents on the farm, through which the Washington aqueduct passes for a mile and a half after it crosses Cabin John, and continued to reside there for some years, until that part of the house on '' Stony Lonesome" was built, as shown on the right in the illustration. The ruins of the old house on the river farm were removed when excavating for the aqueduct, and now I can only locate it by the proximity of a spring. The White family grave- yard, not far from the dwelling, has been so completely obliterated that I cannot designate the spot where lie the remains of several generations of a family which ceased to exist with the death of my half-brother. After the removal of Clagett White and his family, con- sisting of his wife (afterward my mother) and surviving children, a son and daughter, and the death of his parents, HI o CO UJ z o o I- co cc o o < in I- SKETCH OF I'JAnLV [JFI'l 19 the dwelling on tlie river fui'in was o('cii])ied l>y two old negrocH, Uncle Will and Aunt Ilannuli. They were left there to take care of the dwelling and generally to guard the farm. Hannah had been the cook of the White family, and Will the body-servant of his master, Joseph White. The old retired servants employed and atinised themselves as best suited Iheir pleasure and inclinations. Hannah had her gardeu-patcdi for vegetables and herbs, cow, chickens, and pet eat and dog. During peach-season she prepared a conserve, which she called "peach-cloth," by spreading in a thin layer on a smooth hard board the mashed pulp of soft, juicy peaches and drying it in the sun. When sufficiently dry she cut it into long strips several inches wide, rolled the strips into rolls two or three inches thick, and packed them away for winter use. It was not a very toothsome delicacy, but served as a very good swap for anything I might carry to her from the family table, and she took great pleasure in stuffing into my coat pocket one or more rolls. Uncle Will was a rough carpenter and occupied himself, when it suited his amiable disposition, in making baskets and chair-seats of white-oak splints, door-mats of corn-shucks, axe-helves, hoe-handles, toy wagons and sleds, and foot-stools, which he sold or gave away as might be his pleasure. His baskets and mats were neatly made and found ready sale. I have seen and probably have slept upon bed-bottoms made by him of splints. I made frequent visits to the old people in their lonely home by the river, and listened with great pleasure to their tales of life long gone before, and especially to the stories of old Marsa Joe, w^ho must have been a lively, if not a unique character. On one occasion he ordered them to lay him out for dead in the kitchen, and after he had been thus prepared, and stretched out at full length on the cooling- board, with a copper cent of that date on each eye to keep the lids closed, he ordered them to take the corpse into the dwelling-house. In doing so they struck his head against 20 ^ SOUVENIR. the sharp edge of the chimney-jamb, whereupon he damned them for their cruel treatment of a dead man. After being safely carried to his room he ordered them to sit by his side until the funeral service began. There he slept until awakened in the full consciousness of his freak, but offered no explanation for his conduct. After the death of Uncle Will, Aunt Hannah was re- moved with all her belongings to a quarter at the home- stead, where she lived for some years in great comfort, beloved and venerated by the family of slaves, and respected by everybody who knew her. During her later years she occupied herself for the most part in knitting stockings for her slave companions. My mother was endowed with great force of character and energy, though always, during my boyhood life, in feeble health. She managed her farming operations and conducted her business matters, sold the products of the farm, and made all purchases in person, but kept employed a white head-man, who was known as the overseer, whose duties were limited to the execution of her orders. During the planting, growing, and harvesting seasons she inspected the farming operations on horseback at sufficiently short in- tervals to keep herself well informed in regard to the prog- ress of the work. On such occasions I rode behind her until I was old enough to be trusted alone on horseback. She was frugal in her habits, lived in the ordinary com- fort and abundance of a prosperous farmer in those econom- ical times, was retiring and exclusive in social life, generous to a fault, and charitable to the neighborhood sick and needy. Her charity did not wait solicitation, but sought the opjjortunity to oifer and give whatever would contribute to the comfort and supply the necessities of those who would accept her donations and free-will offerings. Her larder was always open to the neighborhood poor and sick, and to some others who choose to tax her generosity by a system of borrowing. SKETCir OF I'JA/if.V UFE. 21 She was a coiiHistciit but Hoiuowhat aiiHtcn; iiDmiriiinicant of the Presbyterian denomination, and attended service on alternate SimdayH nt IJctliesda, some miles distant on the Kookville tiirn|)ik(!, and on intervening Sundays attend<;d the Concord Methodist Church, a half-mile distant from the dwelling. Sunday was a day of rest and religious observ- ance, T was not allowed to go fishing, to bathe in the streams, to visit, play marbles, go barefooted, ride stick- horses, or even set my rabbit-traps. I kept on hand a large and well-selected stud of sleek prancing and racing steeds, and enjoyed the sport of fretting myself in speeding and jumping the nimble animals with amazing delight; nor could I understand why setting my rabbit-traps late Sunday afternoon and catching the hare early Monday morning was any more of a sin than setting them on Saturday afternoon and leaving the animals in the trap until Monday morning, but I obeyed the edict, made a "joy of duty," and went to Sunday-school and church service unless the elements were in such tempest that a country boy could not get outside of the front door, and, after returning home, whiled away the afternoon in such harmless dull pastimes as would not offend the keenest conception of innocent amusement. I did not have the resources of a schoolboy, for I had not then tasted of the wonderful and ingenious devices of pleasure which add so much charm to country schoolboy companionship, and make the life of those early years so impressive and attractive that one, even in old age, feels like wishing to live them over again. The most of such afternoons were passed, during proper seasons, in strutting about the lawn, clothed and booted in Sunday-go-to-meeting attire, sniffing the air, chasing beetles, and plucking butterflies ; and when confined to the house, lounging from chair to chair or romping and loafing from room to room in impatient and aimless search for something different or not to do. I must, however, add that during the later years of my mother's lifetime, when at home, Bible and Scriptural reading was a pleasant part of 22 A SOUVENIR. my Sunday observances, and became sufficiently attractive to suggest the belief that I would eventually enter the min- istry, but nothing in those days could divert my love for the farm and country life, which seemed replete with the joys and pleasures M^hich bring contentment and happiness. The old one-story stone church, with a high pulpit opposite the only entrance door, was destroyed by fire many years ago. A more commodious building was erected soon after the fire, near where the old church stood, in which the congregation has continued to worship, but few of those who attended Sunday-school with me are now living. During service the men and women sat on opposite sides of the church. Chil- dren occupied the pews with their mothers. As a rule, the men did not enter the church until the service began, but remained outside about the doorway, engaged in conversation concerning crops and farming prospects in general. Since I left the Sunday-school class, September, 1841, the neighbor- hood and vicinity of the old church have so greatly changed that but few of the landmarks remain to revive the memo- ries of that long-past period. My mother lived to see my half-brother complete his edu- cation at Benjamin Hallowell's academy in Alexandria, Va., where so many young men had been thoroughly equipped for intellectual occupations, take possession of his very large landed and personal estate, and prosecute his chosen occupa- tion of farming with such energy and so much success as to make him her exemplar of the mature life of her two minor sons. But her profound and unremitting concern for our future welfare never abated one "jot or tittle," and during the last hours of life she gave expression, in the hopeful words of a Christian mother, to her love and good wishes for our welfare, prosperity, and happiness, and with her last words, audibly but feebly spoken, she placed in the right hand of each of us a gold coin, the minted seal of her en- during love. During the past fifty-two years the recollection of that scene has so often come back to me more vividly SKETfin OF I'JAnnv ufe. 23 with each HiK!OCHsiv(! im[)r('s,si()ii upon llic incrnory, until now I see the dream-picture of her last lioiirs nidolciit with all i\w. saintly <|ii!iliti(!S of a Clirl.stian woman and lovin;^ motlu-r, wlio wished to live that .she might continiif; to foster and watxili over the lives of her minor sons. She was (iarefnl (o inoidejito the hif^hcst ((ualitics of good morals, probity, and frugality, l)ut was, perhaps, more espe- cially concerned in regard to our education. She knew the very moderate income which we would inherit would be insuflicicnt to defray the necessary expenses of such educa- tion as she desired us to obtain, and never failed to impress upon us the importance of diligence in the acquisition of learning. During the last year of her life I was oflfered, through the influence of William Grindage, of Georgetown, a life-long and devoted friend of my father, the prospective appoint- ment to West Point; but my mother refused her consent, and persistently designated the profession of medicine for mc, which I as stubbornly declined, until I came to know, after her death, that she had done as she had often said she would do, given her entire realty to my half-brother, on the condition that he would pay to my brother, William, at his majority, a stipulated sum of money, giving as the reason for such bequest that it would be unwise to give either of the minor sons any part of her landed estate, because it was entirely surroimded by the lands of our half-brother. My half-brother's fortune was wasted through inattention to business and security obligations, and he died so poor that his estate was consumed in the payment of such debts. My mother left a small estate, which she so distributed as to equalize the incomes of my brother and myself, giving to me the less part, because I had inherited, by the will of my great-uncle, Samuel Busey, one-third of his estate, but which, with the addition derived from my mother's estate, yielded an inadequate income for my support and education even in those days of frugality and rigid economy. So that 24 ^ SOUVENIR. long before I obtained my degree in medicine the principal had been greatly diminished. My mother made William Griudage my testamentary guardian, which he declined. According to the law in Maryland at that time, I was old enough to select his successor, and was summoned before the Orphans' Court to announce formally and solemnly my selection. I named my half-brother, but, in fact, from that date I managed my small estate as best I could, with the advice and occasional assistance of my best friend, William Grindage. He made to me all necessary advances of money when my income fell short, and never, during his lifetime, allowed me to want for anything necessary for my actual personal comfort or educational expenses, and, even after I was married, I knew where to apply for temporary help to make good small shortages of money. When, in 1849, I bought the lot on which I proceeded to erect a small dwell- ing-house, I borrowed from him every dollar of the purchase- money upon my personal note, payable at my convenience. He was a bachelor and lived to old age. I do not know that any relative or connection of his is now living, never- theless I make this record of my grateful appreciation of his kindness and in memory of his exemplary character and goodness of heart. In a previous paragraph (p. 16) I have referred to my father's love of the chase, to which he devoted annually the most of his life, between the times of fall wheat-seeding and spring corn-planting, with an occasional diversion at the race-course, which my indistinct memory locates in the suburbs of this city, in the immediate neighborhood of the thriving village of Mount Pleasant. I recur to these facts and circumstances because of the interesting recollections of the lives of the lovers of the chase in those days, as told to me by my mother. I was not quite five years old when my father died, and have no personal knowledge of the sport beyond the brief but familiar acquaintance with old ^' Vanity," the famous leader of the hounds, and the two SKKTCir OF I'LMil,)' fJF/:. 25 hunters. "Jolly," ilic favorite, was an u^Iy holj-tailcd, mottle-colored beast, which spiked his cars at blow of horn, and followed the hunt with f(!rocions speed; and "Gin," the occasional substitute, to whose easy and steady gallop I be- came accustomed during the later years of her retirement from the sportsman's saddle. Notwithstanding my mother's antipathy to fox-hunting, she ])rovided very carefully for the keep of these ajiimals, which lived to a good old age and died natural deaths. The story, as told by her, is as follows : There was a coterie, it might be called a club nowadays, of an indefinite half-dozen gentlemen of reputed inherited wealth, residing within the limits of a sparsely populated country neighbor- hood, on farms descended to them through a line of colonial ancestry, and dwelling in mansion-houses mostly built of stone or brick. They assembled daily on weekdays, for the start, at the house of some one of them, at early breakfast, and again at the house of another, after the finish, at late dinner. They came with out-riders, slave body-servants, and the hounds of their respective kennels. The meals were very heavy and sumptuous, consisting of the best cuts of beef, or a whole mutton butchered for the occasion, and such other products as the farm might afford, with apple-jack and peach-brandy, the only domestic distillery products of that vicinity in those days. The preparation of these feasts and the clearing away of the debris after the departure of the gentlemen, with their out-riders, horses, and dogs, all of which had to be entertained in the conventional style of that coterie of Slite sportsmen, imposed upon the good housewife and her retinue of slave servants constant and hard work, for two days of each week, from dawn of day till late candle- light. The wear, tire, and tear of such work was so great, with all the fun on one side, that it seems strange to me that a neighborhood custom should have trespassed so far beyond a humane consideration for the good and indulgent house- wives. My mother, having haei previously a somewhat 26 A SOUVENIR. similar, though not quite such an objectionable, experience (luring her early life at "Weston, was determined, so far as she was concerned, to break up the weekly entertainments of men, horses, and dogs before the inevitable results of rained health and fortune should reduce her to poverty and bear her to an untimely grave. With marked emphasis in her words she has more than once told me how speedily and easily she accomplished her Avell-matured determination. Consequently my earliest recollections of the chase are lim- ited only to some knowledge of the survivors of my father's complete equipment for the hunt. Fox-hunting was, in those days as it is now, a gentleman's amusement, if chasing an innocent animal to his lair or to death by a kennel of bawling and devouring dogs that the first at the finish might, followed by the yelping hounds, bear the brush in triumph back to a sumptuous, if not a riotous, feast, is a rational enjoyment for cultivated gentle- men. Personally, I prefer the track of the anise-bag over a selected course rather than the trail of the wily fox, whose astute instinct leads him to his den by the most circuitous and inaccessible route, oftentimes deep in the wisely chosen and impregnable crevices of rocky formations. The simple but graphic story of my father's devotion to the sport that owes its pleasures to the pain of the dumb animals excited in me a lively and lasting prejudice against gaming the animal for the trophies of death and tail tufts. As a matter of interesting history not probably known to many now living, I feel at liberty to introduce a brief account of the terrible suffering of the Potomac River boatmen, of which I have often heard my mother speak. Previous to the construction of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal George- town, and probably the cities of Washington and Alexandria, received the greater part of their supplies of flour from the mills on the upper Potomac, which were boated down the river in a rude sort of float boats, carrying from eighty to one hundred barrels each. The river is not navigable above SKETCH OF KAHI, Y LIFE. 27 the Little l^^ills^ wliicli lius a lull of" tliirty-scvcii foot. At the Great Falls the fall is seventy-.six feet and nine inches. Between these falls the river in many plaees is very rapid and shallow, and at many other points its conrse is so crowded with rocks and narrowed by islands that a boat cannot pass and escape total destruction. In 1784 the Legislature of Maryland chartered the Potomac Canal Company, which constructed at considerable cost canals with locks around these falls, widened and deepened the smaller channels around the islands, which were free from rocks, and in many other places, where practicable, dug canals across sharp curves and around the rocky and shallow rapids. In such manner an uncertain and dangerous water-way was crudely prepared for navigation with flat-bottomed scows, handled exclusively by hand power, with oars and push poles. One of the worst of the many disastrous parts of the river was near the d-vvelling of the White family, where my mother resided during the earlier period of her married life. There the wrecked and starving boatmen sought refuge from want and suffering, and had to be cared for, nursed, and fed until sufficiently recovered to seek on foot their homes. Boats and cargoes were fre- quently lost, and many of the boatmen were seriously injured. The homestead ^vas situated about one and a half miles from the Potomac River, on rising ground, near the conflu- ence of Cabin John and Bowie Run, surrounded by an open lawn edged with forests on the sloping hill-sides, with a kitchen garden and orchard in front. Cabin John is a romantic and circuitous stream, with rocky shores, rushing gorges, dashing currents, and here and there a smooth but deep basin offering dangerous allurements to the youthful angler and swimmer. The affluent branch courses through meadow lands where snakes abound and the meadow-larks and bob-o-links hide their nests and young from intrusion. Along its way it receives the spring streams flowing through the fields and down the ravines of its picturesque watershed of rolling and forest lauds, dotted, in my early life, here and 28 A SOUVENIR. there with farm-houses primitive in style and with rude accommodations, heated only by great fireplaces with brass- mounted handirous of various design, and illuminated from late twilight until early bedtime wnth home-made tallow- dipped candles, and in due seasons with great blazing wood- fires. Whale-oil lamps and spermaceti candles were reserved for evenings when the country folks would come to tea and chat about crops, poultry prospects, courtships, births, roads, weather, church-going, fashion, and society and neighborhood doings in general. How these two streams derived their names I do not know, nor have I ever heard any authoritative statement in regard to the origin of the names. It was stated as a tradi- tion by some of the old persons that Bowie Run had been named after an original settler, but no one could locate his residence. It is a short stream, not by its course, over seven miles in length, but drains a very considerable watershed and fills to overflowing very rapidly during heavy rains. The legend of Cabin John was more definite, but none the less a fiction. The old negroes and some of the oldest white inhabitants took special pleasure in telling the story of the recluse, Captain John, who, at some remotely early period, had wandered from afar through the primeval forest until he reached its bank opposite the horseshoe bend not far below its confluence with Bowie Run, and there stopped to rest in the profound solitude of that secluded nook, undisturbed save by the chirping birds, " the chit-chat of an idle squirrel," and sound of the splashing water. Here he built a rude log cabin, and dwelt in lonesome retirement from the world. Some of the more superstitious negroes were wont to tell of visions of the grimly visaged ghost of Captain John as he walked in silence, with axe in hand, up and down the wood- land bank of the rugged stream, and sometimes when I have stood upon the opposite rocky promontory in the sharp curve of the fast running water, I have felt such a momentary thrill of horror at the fleeting thought that the ghost of a SKETdll Oh' h' A /!/,)' f, //'■/<:. 29 fiction might hIiow liis {^liuslJy form and Hli!irj)one(l axe that I have cluiHcd iiwuy ,'it :i rapid speed from the h;iimt<;d H|K>t witlioiit lookiiifi; hack over my loft Hhoiildc-r (o sec if" tiie apparition was iu pursuit. The evening social assemblages of neighbors were occasions of special enjoyment to me. The visitors came informally and early, not by invitation but by notification tliat certain persons would come to tea on a day named, always given in time to enable the cook to be in readiness for a full supply of Maryland biscuits, with such additional good foods as would complete the menu of an abundant and sumptuous country supper, suited in variety and quantity to the taste of the fastidious and hungry. The early coming was a neces- sary prelude to the full enjoyment of the meal. It afforded the opportunity to exchange the gossipy chit-chat of the neighborhood, and to simmer down the newsy tittle-tattle to such topics of general conversation as would engage the attention of everybody when assembled around the table, Avhere everyone talked at the same time and laughed out loud or smiled in silent response to the pervading conviviality. A country farm-house supper of biscuit, tea, and toothsome relishes seemed to inspire a well-chosen company with such good cheer and bonhomie as would make every face gleam and sparkle with delight, obliterate the wrinkles, furrows, and care of advancing life, and add to the freshness of youth the glow and radiance of beaming festivity. Some of the company were talkers from the start to the finish, with the last word added ; and others were loud and jolly laughers, all the more so when the repartee came quickly in a sally of folk-lore that would capture general attention and stampede the garrulous bumpkin who sought to monopolize the conversation with the pointless details of stale neighbor- hood gossip, and did not possess the suavity and ready wit to conceal the discomfiture of a laugh on the wrong side of the face. On such occasions I was duly instructed iu the proprieties 30 A SOUVENIR. of good behavior aud taught the lesson of how to be seen and not heard, but I was not forbidden the privilege of being honey-fugled by some toothless spinster who claimed the right of sealing her good-will and friendly slaver with a righteous kiss. At supper I was seated at a side table and waited until I was served with that which somebody thought was best for me, without the privilege of picking and choosing. I was always hungry, but was soon so comfortably satisfied with the good eatings that I could listen in contentment to the dialogue of the merry company, and join in the laughter, provided I was not too boisterous. Of course, sometimes, boylike, I had to laugh all around both hands pressed firmly over my gaping mouth, and laugh until choked, and then the maid would thump me in the back until I breathed easy, and I was lucky if not sent " in durance vile " to weep and sleep. The " tallow-dip " candle was a primitive domestic manu- facture, and in many farm-houses supplied all the artificial illumination other than the blaze of the open wood-fires. The method of preparation is probably unknown to the present generation, except perhaps in certain limited regions of the country as yet inaccessible by the ordinary means of transportation. The tallow was prepared by rendering beef- fat and was preserved in moulds or cakes until candle-mak- ing time, usually during the winter months, came around in the successive routine of the housewife's domestic duties. Every frugal housekeeper kept on hand, carefully and prop- erly prepared, a number of round, smooth candle-dipping sticks, about tw^o feet long by one-half to three-fourths of an inch in diameter. Around these sticks the wick, cut in fixed lengths, was folded, six or eight on each stick, and twisted so that from the loop surrounding the stick the double wick would hang in one straight line. A¥hen thus prepared in number to supply all the candles for the current candle-year, the sticks were hung in a frame so made that the ends would rest upon two parallel bars with the twisted SKETCH 01'' /';.!/;/. K iji''f':. 31 wicks liJiiijL^injz; dowiiwiird. Two or more large iron pots or other metal vessels were conveniently ])laced near tliis frame- work uiid ])artially filled with hot water, U))on which was poured the hot melted tallow, filling the vessels hriiiifid. The preparations being thus completed the operators took each sti(^k in regidiir onh-r and dipped the wick into the hot tallow, with a gentle swaying motion, so that each wick might be thoroughly saturated with the tallow, and when withdrawn each wick was drawn out straight by pulling from the end, before the stick was replaced in the frame to allow the adherent tallow to harden. This process of dip- ping was repeated at sufficient intervals until the candles had grown by the adhesion and congelation of the layers of tallow to the proper size, and, after hanging in the frame until thoroughly hardened, were stripped from the sticks and stored away for use. As thus made the candles Avere some- what irregular in form, without smooth surfaces, but the tallow was a homogeneous mass and sufficiently firm to retain shape for a long time. The tallow-dip is not a brilliant luminaut, but in those early days two or more on the centre- table seemed to furnish all the light needed by those accus- tomed to their use. They needed careful and frequent snuffing to prevent the charred wicks from falling over and dimming the light. I have now in my possession two silver-plated candlesticks, one hundred and more years old, in which the tallow-dips were set when lighted, by which I have read the stories of Mother Goose, and studied weather prognostics in the Hagerstown Almanac, which was found in every farm-house in Maryland, in company with the Book of Martyrs and the Holy Bible. Poultry-raising was one of the economical industries of good housewifery, and was made profitable by the sale of the surplus product. Fricasseed and fried chicken, baked goose and duck, and roasted turkey were popular foods, and as necessary as convenient to supply the requirements of the farmer's table. Poultrv-raising was not in those davs a hiofh 32 ^ ^ SOUVENIR. art, requiring elaborate and expensive preparations, with the appurtenances of glazed henneries, incubators, ornamental enclosures, and scientific feeding. In-and-in, and cross- breedins: with new and fancv kinds did not command much attention. Fowl pedigrees followed the survival of the fit- test, selected according to taste, perhaps most often deter- mined by the color or richness of the plumage. This was certainly the custom in making the choice of the cocks, drakes, ganders, and turkey -gobblers. The ordinary preparations consisted of a rudely built board hen-house, a thatched roofed duckery, a turkey-roost, reached by climbing; a goose shelter, feed pens, and coops for the protection of the different broods of the young. With the coming of springtime all these structures were renovated, cleansed, and put in perfect order, and then fol- lowed the making of nests and setting the eggs. With the beginning of the hatching began the momentous cares, disap- pointments, and anxiety of poultry-raising. The prepara- tion of foods for the broods and the feeding required special attention. Protection from cold and inclement weather was equally important. Separate houses or coops and feeding pens were provided for the broods of the different kinds. The brooding hen would pluck the turkey-poults and the gander would nip the chickabidies and ducklings. Brooding fowls are not friendly to the broods of other kinds, and some- times not to those of their own kind of different age from their own broods. These circumstances added ceaseless care and vigilance to the duties of the successful poultry-raiser. As a small boy I played the role of a looker-on, always keenly alive with loving admiration for the younglings, sometimes joining in the shooing to protect them from in- imical intruders, and occasionally getting a sharp nip and savage flap from an angry gander. An old gander is a plucky fowl and a fierce fighter. He does not like anybody, but has a special dislike for the small boy. When the goose is setting he struts around or sits near by, hisses at everyone SKETCH OF EARL V fJl''K 83 wlio may approach the nest, uiid wlicii tin; goslingH arc about his ferocity rcjuihcs Hiujh (explosive intensity that h;lit with bite and blow, and wIkmi the (!oml)at is over will strut back to bis lilllc! (lock and |)r()udly cackle over his triumph. Tlic small boy may defend himself either by showing a pair of (;lean heels or standint^ bis jj^round armed with a heavy stick twice as lon<^ as the gander's neck. If he succeeds in landing a vigorous side swipe on the neck, he may knock out the hiss, but the gander will ])nt on a good face and cackle all the same. With such environment, and other diversions perhaps more attractive, to which I will refer later, my boyhood life ran its course of joyous but heedless pleasure and happi- ness from birth to the death of my mother, 1828-44. In fact, I might with greater accuracy and propriety reduce the limit to 1837, when I began schoolboy life by going to a country school five miles distant from the homestead. It was during the early period, before the days of school recita- tions and night school-lessons at home that the frivolous but absorbing pleasures and pastimes of the country boy so in- delibly impressed the mature man with the vivid recollec- tions of his young life on the farm and in the open fields, sniffing the air fragrant with fresh vitality for the breath of growing life, varying, with change of season, in the bouquet of growing and blooming plants, of ripening and harvested crops, of autumnal fiiding and falling foliage, and wintei^'s frosty and chilly blasts that swept the landscape and covered the earth with snow and ice. The seasons of hay-making, grain-harvesting, and corn-shucking were times of special and busy delight, during which, at remitting intervals of brief or long duration, as the interest might persist or ooze out in tire and sweat, I would take a share with a wooden fork in thinning the rows of falling grass after the scythe, or carrying sheaves of grain to the shocking-places, or husking corn in match to count first a fixed number of red grains of corn, which usually continued too long for the joy of 3 34 ^ SOUVENIR. winning and became labor without fun. In spring and fall fallowing-times I would follow the plough searching for worm- bait wherewith to angle the streams with rod, line, and hook; and ride back to the stable at feeding-times the beast of work, which might perchance once or more, with a shrug and shake of the body from mane to tail, slide me off his bare and sweating back ; or at other times stroll the pathless woods among primroses and violets, listening along the ramble to the matching and warbling birds, and gathering nosegays of scented herbs and wholesome wild flowers to decorate the vases on the parlor-mantle and sideboard, or selecting plants to transplant in the flower-beds on the front lawn ; and on other opportune occasions plucking fruit hanging in luscious ripeness from the bearing boughs of laden trees, or invading the forbidden patches and bushes of the berry and succulent fruits that had been so carefully cultivated for table and other domestic uses ; or, with youthful rashness, chasing snakes to free the captured frogs from their venomous jaws; or, perchance, when the querulous bullfrogs about the muddy ponds were bellowing in croaking cadences, would take my chance with bean-shooter at bull's-eye gam- ing ; or, perhaps, at late twilight catch toads luminous with fireflies gobbled up and guzzled down, but always careful to avoid verrucal infection. It was a prevalent superstition that seed -warts were due to the inoculation with the renal excretion of toads, and that the most effective remedy was strangulation with horsehair ligatures and dropping the seeds at some road-crossing whilst chanting the refrain "Warts, warts, please leave me and take the next passer-by." And in later months, with bag and pockets, hunting chest- nuts, chinquapins, hickory and hazelnuts, to store away for winter festivities and nights of bellyaches and castor-oil, which even now make me shudder with fear lest some grip- ing pain may disturb the peaceful sleep of declining life. The mere citation in a running summary falls far short of giving expression to the fascination of such pastimes. No SKETCH OF EAIU^Y IJFK 35 one but tli(! (^oiiiilry hoy on ilic i\iv\u, who, with han;(l feet, has followed along the fresh furrow of the fallow ])Iough and eaught the slimy earth-worms as they twirled into or out of their tortuous ehannels in the upturned sod, ean a])])reeiato the fulness of such pleasure. There is 8omethir)g in thf; odor of newly turned earth, in the sensation to tlu; tramp- ing bared feet, and the deft grasp of the worm-l)ait seeking eseape that adds to })leasure siu^h exhilaration that thrills the country boy Avith the eestasy of delight. Not less en- chanting is a ramble through the woods during Nature's budding season, when the balmy air is laden w^ith the fra- grance of leafing and flowering undergrowth and stately trees, the woodland ways are shrouded with the changing and dancing shadows of Avaving boughs freshly budding with new flowers and whispering leaves, the birds are busy building their nests and singing to "call forth paramours," and the welcome spring is painting the forest with blossoms, filling the air with perfume, and covering the earth with splendor. The fishing excursions were not uniform either in their pleasure or results. The glowing anticipations of a catch were not always realized ; in fact, sometimes the fishing tackle and disappointment were all that was brought back after a half-day's exposure to the burning rays of the sun on a hot summer day. The patience and forbearance of a lover of the sport are not easily disturbed by disappointment, however much friends may twit him for his failure. After a night of refreshing sleep be will be as ready to repeat the day's pleasure as if the catch on the previous day had filled full the measure of his gratification. The youthful angler is, perhaps, not so patient and persistent in compensating the disappointment and failure of to-day with the hope and confidence of success of to-morrow, as he who has followed through several, and perhaps many, decades the pleasure and recreation of fishing, and can stand, day after day, in patient silence under the burning sun on the fishing-bank, with 36 -4 SOUVENIR. angle in hand, M'atching the bending reed from which hangs the baited hook, without a single pang of regret, even though the fish refuse the treacherous bait. I did not belong to the obdurate class of Walton's disciples, but fished to catch fish. A good catch more than compensated for muddy and torn clothes, dirty hands, sore feet, and hunger ; but no catch, and a poor catch only less so, brought retributive discontent with tire and dumps, which were not so completely obliter- ated by a night's sleep that I would seek the repetition of the excursion the next day. When the day was favorable, and the fish were plenty and eager for the bait, the pleasure was fully up to the standard of highest enjoyment; but when the stream was swarming with schools of mullets the hook and line was slow sport to mullet-catching, which was ac- complished by driving one or more schools along the fish- ways up stream and then obstructing the way with stones, brush, rails, or other material at hand, so that the fish could not j)ass, and then going above them and with Jong poles thrash the water all along behind them until a shoal was reached, usually alongside of the obstructed fish way. When landed on the shoal in frightened effort to escape pursuit, they could be gathered up by the hands in such number as would fill our strings and nets. It was not, perhaps, per- fectly fair, but it brought fun and caught fish in abundance, and thus filled the measure of the angler's highest aim and sport. Snake-hunting was not an attractive sport, but snake- killing was a desperate duty. Country boys do not like snakes, nor are they willing to acknowledge failure to kill the reptile when the opportunity obtrudes itself. A snake at bay, coiled upon itself, with head erect, glistening eyes, and sissing tongue, showing fight and threatening attack, puts valor at discretion, and the combat rages at safe distance with stones, sticks, and other missiles until the reptile is too much injured to continue the fight and then the killing is completed, or it escapes by quick movement and is not SKETCH OF EAfiLV fJFf'J. 37 pursiuul. J>iii wlicii tli(! snake iscaiiglit witli llie hind l(:^.s(;f' 11 fVoij!; [)rojoctin^ IVoin his jjiws the .sport of a chase may not be less rash, but it is freer from caution and more conch icive to tlie satisfaction of killing. Such sport may be lively, but it is not fascinating. The summer environment and amusements were the con- tinuation of the outdoor life and activities of springtime, to \vhi(!h were added the temptations and ravislimcnts inci- dent to grain-harvesting, hay-making, fruit-ripening, and abundance of garden vegetables. 8u(;h pastoral ])astiraes and appetizing inducements supplied ample opportimities to the country boy for healthful exercise and such enjoyment as made life in the open air a fairy tale of joys. A tramp through the stubble fields, along the banks of the meadow streams, over the forest ways, and under the orchard trees, with here and there a rest in shady nooks at full length upon the cooling earth, with three hearty meals every day, made him as happy as the days were long. It was the season of sweltering heat, bared feet, light clothing, straw hats, bathing and swimming in the shallow ponds, basking in the sun- shine on the sandy shoals, and paddling up and down over the rocky bed and through the splashing rapids of the crys- tal stream. One must have the experience to realize the rapture of such pleasures. They come aud go iu daily suc- cession free from surfeit and ennui, adding with each after- coming day new and queer phases to the delight that make the summer life of the country boy on the farm a continuous series of high-jinks, sport, fun, aud frolic changing with the whim aud freak of boy nature. His life of out-door activities, div'ersions, recreation, and play developed very rapidly the intuitive faculty of self- adaptation to environment and to the current and changing conditions of season, weather, heat, cold, and wet. He was not trammelled by coddling parents and the slavish restraints of society and fashion. His free and easy-going natural life led him along the line of nature's allurements and 38 ^ SOUVENIR. enjoyments, and his quick and quaint perception of the crude pleasures of farm-life made " the quips and quirks and wanton wiles" a train of pastime and joy. With the autumn came new scenes and occupations, not less active and enjoyable, but less emotional and interchange- able, pertaining more to the practical and business aspects of life than to impromptu and sentimental entertainment. The plundered orchards, russet forests, falling leaves, seared fields, lengthening shadows, melancholy twilights, and wail- ing winds were nature's warnings to prepare for the coming winter festivities. The poultry -yard needed attention that the fattened fowls might be in condition for a ready market. The gun needed furbishing and a new flint, and the powder- flask and shot-pouch refilling. The hunting-dog must have practice to quicken his scent, and the beagle-hounds training for the rabbit-chase. The rabbit boxes and gums needed re- construction. Squirrel-hunting, partridge-shooting, and rab- bit-chasing were lively and attractive sports, but the econ- omic and penny-making industries could not be neglected. The Christmas season was coming around again and time was growing shorter by counting the weeks passing fast. The purse was in distress, Christmas came but once a year, and must be provided for " by hook or by crook." Nut-gathering was a productive, though not a profitable pleasure. Perhaps a whole day, for which Saturday was preferable, would be spent in thrashing down and hulling bushels and sometimes barrels of black walnuts to store away and to barter for Christmas fire-crackers. Black walnut trees were numerous and bore very abundantly, but home consumption was large and the market was quite frequently overstocked. Town people preferred the almond, shellbark, and pecan to the more indigestible and less flavored black walnut and hickory nut. The hickory (king nut) was usually gathered after falling, but the walnut trees stood in the open fields or in clumps, and could not be safely left for falling-time, because of the risk of losing the fruit. Other SKETCH OF EARLY fJFE. 39 bojH and imknowii infriKlcTH \v(!r<; <|iiit(: ;i3 dili^'ftnt in giitlicrin;^ ihc'ir Miipplies. Nut-bouriiif^ trees and bushes scattered about th(! farm out of the way of direct and con- stant observation were common property, and the fruit was the price of vigilance and industry. To secure a monopoly or the lari^er part of the ])rodi]ct, it was necessaiy to thrash many oftlie trees. After Iniliing, the nuts were dried in the open air and tiien stored away in some dry place for use. The consumption of walnuts l)y a country boy at his inter- meal feasts, and especially in preparation for l)edtime, is only comparable to the quantity of corn an adult duck will consume if allowed to sip a little water and shake his tail feathers during the feeding, or to the quantity of boiled com a fattening hog will eat at a siugle feeding. Neither will ever get enough. The hog possesses one great advantage. When he has swallowed until he cannot hold another grain, he will sit upon his tail and scratch the roof of his mouth with one of his hind toes until he vomits, and then return to the trough and eat with the energy of a hungry beast. The tasteless greediness of the domestic duck is a phe- nomenon. The capacity of a country boy for nuts is not less remarkable. He eats until stiff with fulness, and then looks over the empty hulls for the bits of kernels left behind. Every season had its pleasure, and the winter-time had its special line of in-door and out-door amusements, not, per- haps, so well adapted to the restless and changing taste of the country boy, who lives and thrives on pleasure, plain food, and sound sleep ; nevertheless, not without interest and consuming recreation. Coasting down long hills and away into the valleys below, until brought to an abrupt stop by pitching into a frozen stream or against some obstruction, on a rudely improvised sled, was just as wildly attractive then as now, and bruises, contusions, cuts, and scratches, with torn trousers and jackets out at elbows, were just as common con- comitants ; but there were no vehicles to drive across our icy descent, nor crowds of idle and wild poor boys without sleds 40 A SOUVENIR. to jeer and ba^yl at our ludicrous mishaps aud, sometimes, sharply painful cuts and other minor injuries. We were sufficiently prudent and philosophic to lick and hide the wounds and coarsely sew up the tears and rips of clothing before returning to inspection, lest the edict of prohibition should be issued at early breakfast the succeeding morning. Then, too, we had our field ponds and other collections of water for skating on shoes, and then tramping far away to the cobbler to have them revamped and rehalf-soled ; and perhaps, on other days, when the wind was cutting cold and the earth and ice-ponds were clad with snow, would rollick about and sniff the scented air of green wood burning in the forest, where the woodman was felling timber and chopping back-logs and smaller fuel for the winter fires in the dwell- ing and greater fires in the quarters, and where old Uncle Cato, with maul and wedge, did rive huge logs into rails, and, at resting intervals, piped himself full of smoke with such relish that blisters on his tongue did neither hurt nor disturb the solemn mirth of his tales of " Jack the Giant- killer." Rabbit-trapping in boxes and gums was, however, the most intensely absorbing seasonal sport. To run at early sunrise in high expectation and return in gleefid success with the living trophy held tight in hand was fun in fact ; but when the traps Avere empty, or, before I had learned how to garrote him, old "cotton tail " had escaped by jerk- ing loose from grasp and darting at double-quick away through the undergrowth, the gait of return was slow and careful, in thoughtful preparation of an excuse for failure to bag my game, and then, at late sunset, having forgotten the morning disappointment and chagrin, with rekindled hope, I tramped the woods and ravines where timid rabbits did lightly tread the tiny paths, to bait the traps with fresh food, and set the triggers for easy fall, that I might insure my catch to replenish my Christmas and Fourth-of-July pecuni- ary resources. Eabbits in those days were worth in open market from five to ten cents per carcass with skin intact. SKETC/f (JF I':AIU,Y fJl''h'. 41 The later years of tlio country boy were not ho exeluHively limited to rabbit catching, but were quite often divcrHified with <^iiiiiiin<^ in jrcMKM'iil for game at large, but mf)re espe- cially with partridge-shooting, which required more Hkilful handling of the fowling-pieee, and wqs stupidly dull :iiid fatiguing to the inexpert guniuir. There were many other by- plays equally enticing and full of frolic and merry-mak- ing, but less engrossing and more evanescent in their hold upon the exuberant impulses and restless spirit of the healthy, well-fed, and vigorous youth. Tops, hops, kite-flying, mar- bles with hives and feu hives for fun or for keeps, and for knucks, mumble-the-peg, quoits with pennies or with blocks or stones, ball at bat and sky-ball, riding piggy-back, play- ing ducks and drakes, and other athletic sports of the rough- and-tumble sort, devised on the spur of the moment, and not always free from a fight at finish, were held in reserve to drive away dull care. It is strange, nevertheless true, that the location now known as Glen Echo was a part of my rabbit-trapping and hunting-ground, over -which I have tramped through wind, cold, frost, and snow to my traps and in search of other game. It was then a rough and neglected region and known only to those who might tramp the pathless forests and broom-sage lowlands with dogs and gun to trap or chase the rabbit, or bag other game which, at times, sought refuge in the lonely forest and secluded valleys and raviucs. It had not then engaged the speculative conception of the human mind that land that could not find a purchaser at five dollars per acre would ever be subdivided into town lots and sold by the square foot at prices far beyond the wildest dream of the most visionary and reckless theorist in future gains and profits. And even now, as I drive along the conduit road which bisects this region, which recent romance and poetry and financial wreck have made as famous as the South Sea Island bawble, I cannot realize the lavish and fruitless waste of money, taste, and enterprise in speculative future 42 A SOUVENIR. that decorates the lonesome hunting-grouud of my youth. Glen Echo ^vith her mansions on the sloping hillsides, her great Chautauqua buildings falling to ruin, the numerous un- occupied cottages on the level where broom-sage and poverty grass grew in luxuriant evidence of the poorness of the soil, and the driveways over the rugged hills and through the primeval forest, is more desolate than when the rabbit, opossum, woodcock, and other game abounded and made merry the sportsman with his gun and dog. The Christmas festivities began the day before with busy preparation for the enjoyment and merriment that were to obliterate all the sorrow of the year soon to close with the coming of the Avelcome New-year Day. The final act of readiness consisted in the filliuo^ of the stockings of the do- mestics hung to the chimney-jamb, and arrangement of the gifts so that each could be conveniently and orderly pre- sented to the person for whom intended. Then to bed to sleep through dreams of pleasure until the break of day, when the frost was gleaming in the starlight, the air was keen and crisp, and the great back-logs were simmering and fuming at each end, whilst the smaller fagots, piled thick and high up in the fireplaces, were glowing with living coals of fire, and the roaring flames rising higher and higher up the chimney were filling the rooms with the warmth and mellow shadowy light of the merry Christmas fires, the slaves came knocking at the windows and doors to catch missus Christmas gift and to oifer some token of their respect and good- wishes. Old Cato wanted a new wammus ; Frank, a new silk liat to don when on the carriage-box ; Lewis, to- bacco and pipe, and a little grog to limber up his stiffened joints ; old Charity, a new turban to decorate her kinky head ; Yi, a new white apron ; others, flour, sugar, molasses, eggs, butter, and spices with which to make cakes and pies ; and others of the younger set articles of wear, according to their taste and dress fancies. Whilst the maids of honor, who had nodded around the SKETCH OF L'AJILY IJI'i:. 43 hearth, waitiiij^ lh(! (irst .streak oC (layli;;lit lo rifle thr-ir stockings of the precious promises for past good beliavior, were (listribniiii!;' tlu; giftH that mad*; (he; reeeivers elarnoroiis with joy and tiuniiltuoiis witli tliankfuiness, I took delight in throwing all around and about at random aim the lighted firceraekers, thus adding such consternation to joyous tumult that made the scene seem like a combination of paradise and pandemonium, commingling delight witli uproar in such innocent discord that made the welkin ring at dawn of Christmas Day and filled the measure of my fun to my heart's content. All this was the prelude to that wider scope of enjoyment which made Christmas Day par excel- lence the day of joy and merriment. It Avas everybody's day for pastime, fun, frolic, feast, and mutual interchange of good-will and bonhomie. The slaves feasted to the gratifica- tion of their taste and the fulness of their appetites. Cato preferred opossum baked to his liking, another roasted pig flavored with some favorite herb, but turkey was the most popular flesh. Old Charity added Maryland biscuit and mince-pie to her dinner feast, and Yi with her family sat down to a table abuudantl}^ supplied with such luxuries as she had carefully prepared for the occasion. Aunt Hannah sought surcease in a glass of apple toddy made of red- streaked apples gathered from the old orchard trees on the River farm, which she and Uncle Will had so carefully protected in years gone by, and from which they had an- nually through a long period of time gathered the fruit. The day's festivities concluded with a shufile hoedown dance to the music of the fiddle and bow and patting juba, while the whole company united in singing the chorus of some popular negro melody. The country boy's Christmas jubilee continued until the last ember of the back-log ceased to glow. All his hopes, anticipations, and preparations were summarized in the joy of the occasion, and as time passed on through the dreary 44 A SOUVENIR. winter months of the new year his recollections of the inci- dents added fulness and completeness to his pleasure. The winter evenings were usually very enjoyable, and most often passed in family reunion around the bright and glowing green woodfire in such chat and talk as the current events and play-doings might suggest, with such good advice and admonition as the good mother might choose to oifer, sometimes in warning and at other times for our guidance and instruction. A sharp lecture, with cogent expression of disappointment and dissatisfaction, would occasionally arouse us from drowsy nodding with fervid exclamations of "I didn't mean to do bad," and equally clamorous negative "Won't do so no more," and then in sober sorrow, quite often highly flavored with penitent delight at escape from the spanking slipper, of which I got the bigger boy's share or all, to bed to sleep away both hurt and penitence as well as memory of good promises made. Those less fortunate, who have not passed their childhood and youth on the farm in the days of woodfires and tallow- dips, cannot appreciate the primitive and simple pleasures of such surroundings, with all their suggestive and lasting re- membrances. They cannot realize the fervid zeal of a whole evening's study of the grim but radiant visages, some in forbidding grimace and others in less portentous and more sightly profile, in the embers glowing on the hearth or hang- ing in loose bundles to the burning fagot that seems just ready to part in the middle and topple, sound end down, over the heated fire-dogs. Nor can they be so keenly sensi- tive to the delight with which the rural champion will watch and closely snuif down the glimmering flame and bet on speed of melted drops of grease slowly running down the uneven surface of the tallow-dip to collect at flange of can- dlestick in flakes of cold tallow. Nor, again, when rainy days had come or the shingle roof was covered with snow, to watch the flame bursting from the chimney-tops from lighted sheafs of straw pushed into their throats, to SKETCH 0/'' /'JAHLV IJFK. 45 l)iini iliciii oiil, in KiiCcty Trom llic (laii^;(:r ofKcttlii}^ the house on fire. .Inst liorc" T must turn ;iAvav Trom siu-h iiu-idonts to iiitcr- poUito a rdbroiico to tin; tlirilliiiii; (liroiiiMHlaiioo of rny first observation of an aurora-boreal is, now sixty or more years a<;'o. It was a niij^ht with ('ris|» and fast niovinji; wind, and there came a sudden and violent knocking at tlie door to call the family to view the appearance in the heavens, luminous with a g;rcat wide stream of red, with radiatin;^, irregular, and dancing streaks, fading in color from base to point. All around and about the dwelling had come from their quarters the slaves, old and young, men and women, in such state of consternation as boys never saw before. Some in dishabille, and others in hasty dress, with children in their arms, who, with others, stood in ghastly terror, with uplifted arms and reverent acclaim prayed for protection from such bloody carnage and destruction as their superstitious souls and de- throned reason had augured from the ill-omened phenome- non. Whilst this thrilling scene was passing I stood with throbbing heart and choking fear, clinging to my mother in the doorway, who, in a few calmly spoken words, bade them go to their quarters and rest assured that no harm would come to them, and, with that confidence that comes from high esteem and love, they accepted her assurance and retired in peaceful misgiving of her prophetic words. The wood-pile at the farm-house was an object of general interest when the earth was covered with snow and sleet, the roads were blocked with drifts, the streams were frozen over, and the sharp and penetrating wind was howling under the eaves. The choppers Mere busy, and the carts and wagons, with drivers on foot, hurried from the woods, where the axe- men were felling giant trees, to the wood-pile, where others were chopping the rough and crooked branches into shorter or longer back- logs and other pieces in length to suit the great and smaller fireplaces. The wood-pile was kept heaped high with trunks and limbs in all sorts of knotted, 46 A SOUVENIR. crooked, straight, roimd, and split firewood, in irregular lengths and sizes, with chips large and small, thick and thin, from bark to heart, with such fresh woody odors of green wood kinds, gathered in heaps for kindling, or left to sobby in snow and rain. With little to do and much time on hand, it was our pleasure to be as near at hand and in the W'ay as the swing of the axe and flying chips and slivers would permit, or, perhaps, climbing up one side and down the other of the huge pile or riding straddle some project- ing bough that would swing up and down, and then, with torn clothes and many scratches, run home to get a snack of yeast bread and sugar-house molasses, and to dry and warm the hands and feet stiffened with wet and cold. The w^ood- pile, meal and flour bins were objects of anxious inspection and inquiry during such inclement and stormy seasons of winter's worst weather. During such stormy weather the farm and public roads w^ere sometimes so obstructed with snow and ice, and in rainy and thawing seasons would be so soft and deep with mud, that hauling and horseback -riding would be impossible. The shoeing of oxen was not in vogue, and only the riding and driving horses were kept shod. To avoid the discom- forts and inconveniences incident to such conditions it was necessary to keep on hand large supplies of flour, meal, wood, and other but less important articles of domestic necessity which could only be obtained from town. At such times long sweetening would be utilized as a substitute for sugar, and on a pinch roasted rye could be mixed with pure old Government Java coffee, from which a fairly palat- able beverage could be made. The meal-supply was sup- plemented with hominy. To prepare this very popular article of diet and substitute for bread great care was taken in selecting ears of corn with well-filled and flinty grains, from w4iich the small and ill-shaped end-grains were sepa- rated by shelling them separately. The grains from the central portion of the ear were then put into a wooden SKI'/rciI OF EMtl.Y L/J'J'J. 47 mortar and Ix'mIcm with .-m iron jjcslh; imlll broken into small pieces and demulcd of the outer covering, and then winnowed to separate the chaff' from the broken fragments. As thus pr('[)ai-ed It was boih'd in an irf)n ])ot until thoroughly cooked, and stored away in the larder for use, cither warm or cold, with milk or butter, or in cak(!S cither fried or baked. Hominy could be used as a vegetable or as a sub- stitute for bread or cornmcal in a great variety of ways, and was a very common article of the diet of a farmer's family. The present methods of preparing small hominy and grits by machinery were unknown at that time. The wood-pile was more often than the larder the object of anxious solicitude. A half-dozen great fires in huge fire- places burning continuously night and day consumed a large quantity of wood. With a rapidly diminishing supply and complete blocking of the roads and ways the danger of a fuel famine became very threatening. To meet such exigencies hand-sleds were gotten in readiness, to which ropes were fastened, by which the slave laborers and wood-choppers could draw enough wood to keep the fires going until the blizzard subsided. Hog-killing time was the carnival season of winter plea- sure, with its broiled pig-tails, roasted sparer ibs, home-made sausage flavored with garden herbs, crackling Johnny cakes and fried chitterlings. But these were the delicious if not gluttonous products of that exciting custom, which began at dawn of day wath lighted open-air fires to heat the stones or pieces of old iron to boil the water in the scalding-hogshead, in which to soak the porkers when the squeals had hushed and blood had ceased to flow, and then, with easy rubbing, clean the hide of hair, and hang, head down, to dry and cool, butcher and carve, and salt away for boiling with cabbage and potatoes, for farmer's food and sustenance. Some may shudder at this narrative of cruel pleasure ; but, nevertheless, it was brimful of excitement and such good eatings as made country boys grow fat and cheery. It was hunkydory. 48 A SOUVENIR. The thrifty farmers iu the neighborhood raised hogs and cured their own bacon in quantity sufficient for their own use, with some to sell. Some of them took special pride in the preparation of the hams. The methods differed but little, but the result in flavor, color, and tenderness excited com- mendable rivalry and considerable boasting. Late in the fall, after the corn crop had been safely stored in the crib, the porkers were penned and fed on corn in the ears, with an occasional feed of cornmeal porridge. When fattened suffi- ciently they were butchered as before described. A smoke-house, sometimes called a " meat-house," was a necessary appurtenance of the farm. It was usually located near the dwelling, and built of logs chinked wdth stone and mud made of clay and straw. The roof was high-pitched with shingles of white-oak wood. The roof-room was ar- ranged with cross-pieces, to which were fastened iron hooks upon which the pieces of bacon were hung by loops made of narrow thin white-oak splints. The splints were pierced through each piece at some selected point along the edge, and tied iu a twisted knot. When the hanging up was completed and the dripping of brine had ceased a dull fire of hickory wood was kept burning on the dirt floor, to make smoke, until the bacon was sufficiently smoked. Some left it hanging until each piece was needed for cooking, others cut down some parts, especially the hams, and stored them away accord- ing to their methods of curing bacon. It was the care in butchering and curing that gave to the Maryland and Vir- ginia hams such high reputation. When I came to this city, and for many years afterward, the supply of Maryland hams on the market was insufficient for the demand. Many per- sons would not purchase for their own tables any other kind. Now it is difficult to secure one, except as a special favor from some farmer who may continue to cure his own bacon according to the ancestral method. Herring-catching time, which occurred annually during April and the early part of May, was another season of SKh'/rcil OF ICAIUsY 1,1 1'E. 40 unusual cxcitom(!iil jind enjoyment. It vvuh the; custom of the farmers to drive their wagons to Georgetown, where they purcliased tlio lierriiifj:; by tlie tlioiisaiid from the boats which brought the fisli from the; " fishing-landings" down the Poto- mac, where they were caught in seines in very large quantities ; and when the wagons returned home; everybody that could handle a knife was pressed into service to prepare the fish for the brine-vats, from whicli they were in a few days taken and packed in salt to remain until needed for food. It was a common country saying, how true I do not know, that fresh herring made country boys proud and saucy; but I do know such food made them feel good. Herring-time was fish galore, and for days, perhaps weeks, the changes of fish food were many : first broiled fresh herring, then corned herring broiled, next fried salt herring, and, finally, broiled smoked herring, until one's contentment was complete, and saucy pride had lost its spirit in digestive ennui. Sheep-shearing was another interesting annual occasion. It took place in June, when the red clover and the roses were in bloom, and the butterflies in myriads crowned the fragrant flowers, "extracting the liquid sweet." At early moruing, when every herb, leaf, and flower was wet with dew, the flock was driven into the barnyard, and such num- ber was selected as would occupy the shearers during the day. Each one of these in successive order was caught, tied to prevent kicking, and placed upon a bench, when the shearers, with great steel shears, beginning on the abdomen, clipped the fleece intact so closely from the skin that one could hardly see where the wool did grow. The shearing of the flock having been completed, the wool was washed, dried, packed, and sent to the carding-mill, where it was made into rolls for spinning into yarn, which was dyed in such colors, usually bright, as were needed, and then, with a pattern mostly in stripes, sent to the weavers to be woven into cloth for servant's wear. Some of it was sent to the woollen-mill to be woven into " full cloth," a choicer kind of cloth than the 4 50 ~ A SOUVENIR. ordinary country material, for suits and overcoats for special wear. The country weavers were a lot of old, wizened spinsters, as ugly as a mud fence, who dressed during warm weather in blue-striped cotton home-made material, and in cold weather in gayly striped linsey-woolsey, wore shoes down at the heels, combed their hair at such irregular times as suited their con- venience, and washed their faces so seldom that no one ever saw them looking clean. They earned a meagre livelihood by plying the loom, and seemed to enjoy the life of work and poverty. They all belonged to one family, and to some race different from any known to the neighborhood people. Some good people were cruel enough to say they were a cross of the Indian with the orang-outang. As the old spinsters had passed the age of fertility, I suppose the race has become extinct, and handloom-weaving has ceased to be a food- earning employment. With the decadency of such domestic industries the spinning-wheel has also disappeared from common use, but, strange to say, it has become a drawing- room ornament to illustrate the primitive methods of many families claiming the proud distinction of colonial descent. I must add, in this connection, that my yarn stockings, not hose, as now worn, and long comforts for wrapping around the neck, and ear-protectors were knit of yarn spun of wool dyed in the fleece. But such young, sportive, and play-life, with such " well- sj)rings of pleasure" and fun in work and deviltries, like true love, did not always run as smoothly in such boyhood activities as it appears in printer's ink. It had its ups and downs, grumpy spells, sullen and bad temper, and coarser displays which might invoke more lasting inhibitory re- minders. We were not, in the parlance of the present time, very bad boys, but had to stay indoors and take the physic prescribed for such infractions of life and duty as vary the life-history of boys in general, all the more often committed 'when they added zest and spirit to pleasure and pastime. SKETCH Oh' K A III J Y UFK 5] " Variety from vvliich frtisli pleasures flow" was not infre- quently pierced with .sorrow. Tlu; K(;ttiii<^ lien would not ]iivi(^li the eggs ; tin; fuvoritf; duckling would topjth; over and die ; the pigwiggin chi(!ks wotdd luive the gapes and die not- withstanding fumigation with the smoke of burning tobaeco- stalks, and great, big, round tears would roll down the checks at their burial. The marble thumb would go wry, the aim would miss, and the other boy would hold the keeps or shoot the knucks. Green apples and gooseberries would give the mulligrubs ; and stone-bruises on one heel, with a " blood bile" on the buttock of the opposite side, would keep one busy in bed brushing away the flies from the cornraeal poul- tices and sugar-aud-soap drawing-salve, very much to the detriment of good temper and peaceful equanimity ; and pain, griping with fluxes, and throbbing with " biles," which when squeezed to dislodge the cores would reach high up the scale of crying agony. The fish would not bite, and the mullets would hide in deep water, and the storm-swept streams would swiftly flow with water too muddy for swim- ming, and a ^' fit of the tantrums " would finish the day of such lugubrious sport. In brief, disappointment and sorrow came when neither expected nor wanted, and made one limp with the dumps and choky M^th fret, and roaring and pierc- ing cry would rend the air until the " timely dew of sleep " brought back dreams of joys and pleasures new. Buddy Gus, as my half-brother was familiarly known, was an inveterate tease, and would occasionally provoke my good nature to fierce wrath, with a scrimmage of flying corn- corbs, wood chips, stones, brickbats, or other convenient missiles. His rigs, for the most part, related to some good turn done to me by some one of my mother's spinster chums, either of the JNIelissa Wallace kind, fair, fat, and forty, joc- und and round, or of the Polly Jiugle sort, thin, shrivelled, and whining, to whose houses I had been sent on some er- rand, and who had treated me with sugar-plums and cakes, or filled my pockets with almonds and raisins, of which he 52 A SOUVENIR. would rob me and then bauter and jeer me with some well- made-up story of my affectionate regard for the kind-hearted donor, or, after having eaten all my bonbons, would taunt me in broad humor with the joke that they were old, dry, wormy tidbits kept to give the nigger boys when begging for some toothsome dainty, and so touch my pride that a fight would soon follow. But whilst Buddy Gus would have his fun at our expense he was never a talebearer, and we always greeted his coming home from school and followed him in his long rambles through the fields, over the hills, and along the ravines, where his pleasure might lead him, and told him in free confidence of our play-doings and deviltries. After he left school and took charge of his farm he was more reserved but not less kind, and was more concerned in my night lessons than in my amusements, and took much care to help me with my studies. To his assistance I owed much of my rapid progress. He sometimes permitted, and even invited, me to accom- pany him on foot or on horseback on his visits to young ladies, because I was very useful with play and romp to de- coy the small boy and little girls, that he might chat and gossip at leisure ease, and with more freedom, and make love to the bashful maidens of sweet sixteen, and when, on ram- bles along the roads, my approach came dangerously too near, he would send me ahead to drive the cows from the roadside or frighten the shoats from their v/allow in the roadway, for then as now young ladies were proverbially afraid of browsing cows, and shoats, that awakened from sound sleep with a frightful grunt and startling jump, scampered away across the field with ears up and tails twisted close to their haunches. Such escapades on his part supplied me with ready and effective retort, especially when the teasing took place around the tallow-dip or before the blazing family fireside, when he would take sudden refuge in reading aloud the National Intelligencer, the family news- paper. SKETCH OF K A ILLY IJFE. f)'.] My mother Ixilon^cd to a class of moflifrs who hflicv«l in liardcniii}^ hoys for tho Htruggles of" nKinhoo'l life. W'hfi) we had ^rown (oo hir^c for tin; trtindhs-hcd shr hnilt an addi- tion to the dwelling on the northern exposure, with ^reat windows to let in light and sunshine, witlu)ut a fireplace or any other means of heating, exee])t witii a single tallow-dij) at bedtime, or any convenience for washing and bathing, and so far away from the fireplaces that we could not even smell the kindling fires. It was so, cold in the bleak and freezing winter nights that my shoes and yarn-knit stockings would freeze so hard and stiff that I would rush with bared feet and half-clad limbs and body to the roaring fire to thaw them before saying my prayers ; then to the piazza to break the ice in the tub in which the servant had toted the water from the spring, to obtain the necessary amount with which to wash my face and hands, in shivering haste to return to the fire and turn from face to back and side to side to keep one front from burning and another from freezing. All this was in preparation for the jack-rabbit catch, or, perchance, to go to see the pigs called from their smoking beds, fed and counted. In those days neither pigs nor boys were per- mitted to slumber till sunrise. At biting daylight the neighborhood resounded with loud calls of pigs to breakfast. Of course, the early wash in such cold comfort was more for show than for dress ; but at night, when the cook was nod- ding with needle and patch in hand, the room was warm and water hot, washing and bathing could be completed to one's entire and delightful satisfaction. There may have been some merit in such process of hard- ening, but I did not appreciate it and have not been convinced of its wisdom. The victims could not see the good of it. The time came when the joyous and profuse pleasures began to fade away. Alfred aud Tom, our slave companions, a year or more older than I, had, like myself, grown old enough to assume duties that furnished employment with fewer aud less varied pastimes. However reluctant I may have been 54 A SOUVENIR. to give up, at least iu a great measure, my playmates and treasure of amusements, the duty of obedience was inexora- ble, and to the country school for boys and girls I had to go. Alfred and Tom and old dog: " Cash " were releo;ated to the fiercer leadership of a younger brother, who was just loosen- ing from the apron-strings under my tutorship, and for whose errantry I was partly responsible, both by example and inducement. It was well that it was so, for he took pleasure in anticipating and making preparation for my amusement daring the afternoons and holidays. The boyhood companionship of my brother William and myself is full of cherished memories. He was two and one- half years my junior, but soon became my equal in all the innocent amusements and deviltries of early life. With a more impulsive temperament and keener perception he was more than my rival in many sports and joys that made the loom of our lives a dream of pleasure new. It goes without saying that disagreements and collisions took place, but they w^ere momentary, and perhaps passionate explosions of differ- ent dispositions that left no scars to impair the completeness of mutual affection. His country school-life began just before the close of mine, but we were never at the same boarding-school at the same time. He was by profession a civil engineer, and performed his first field service on a Virginia railroad as an assistant in a corps under the direc- tion of the late General William Mahone. Subsequently he abandoned his profession and engaged in commercial busi- ness in Georgetown. He married a daughter of the late Henry Dunlop, of Frederick County, Maryland, and died after years of ill-health at Aiken, South Carolina, on Feb- ruary 18, 1881. Alfred and Tom were slave-boys. Alfred was the young- est son of Charity Martin, the cook, and was, consequently, favored with privileges which the other slave children did not enjoy. Charity Martin had been my nurse during my babyhood, and, to use her own expression, " always had a SKETCH OF KA IlL V LIFE. 55 warm side for me/' wliioli J was quick to learn and appreci- ate. I liold lior Micinory in grateful rctnetribninf^ for lier many Bly liivors and gentle kindncjs.seH. Alfred wa.s a robust, round-faced, very black boy, with a wide mouth, shining skin, bright eyes, and a merry huigh, always ready for sport and very suggestive in play-doings. A dainty tidbit from the family table or a share of ginger-cakes or any toothsome bonbons would appeal to his highest aspiratifjns, and so fdled him with willingness and readiness to contribute to my pleas- ure and enjoyment, that I always knew how best and most speedily to rouse his enthusiasm and startle his brain with fresh activities. The promise of a share of my snack upon return from some ramble, escapade, or deviltry would add such nimbleness to his activity, force to his endurance, and joy to his good nature, that my promise secured all the ser- vice that I might require. He was ready to open the yard- gate for visitors, hold their horses, or fasten the reins to the rack and receive the penny-tip which he gave to his mother. He could climb a cherry tree as quickly and eat as many cherries, with pulp, skin, and pit altogether, and cry as loud with the " gripes," as any other boy. He was for a year or more my horse-boy, who rode behind me to and from the entrance-gate of the orchard farm, and could stone an apple- tree and shake a peach-tree with marvellous dexterity, and then gather up the fallen fruit and escape while the farmer was calling Towser to sic him on. In after-life he was a dignified and reputable colored gentleman, and died several years ago in this city. Tom was an awkward, gawky, ugly, dark copper- colored boy, with a kuappy head and dirty nose, without emotion and less sensibility. He never cared which end went fore- most, and always carried a stumped toe or bruised heel, and could fall down and tumble about without hurt or inconveni- ence. He was the dray-horse and carried the basket or bag or whatever else that Mas burdensome, and could sleep in the blazing sun until his nose and mouth got so full of flies 56 ~ A SOUVENIR. that his snoring would awaken him. He was obedient and docile, and as subservient to Alfred as to me, and took cuff- ing with such laughter as brought out his ugliness in pic- turesque depravity. Tom lived at the quarters with his mother, who was a voodooist and believed in "tricks" and incantations. She would seek escape from work because of some lameness or physical disability ascribed to some " trick" practised upon her by some old negro whom she did not like. Tom had tricks also, but of a different sort, and he got tricked, but in a different manner. He cared but little about either the sort or the manner in which he got tricked, but took the world just as he found it, or as somebody made it for him. Country boys, like their contemporaneous city boys, some- times got sick in those days ; but sickness was actual punish- ment, and as absolutely free from coddling, sentiment, and sestheticism, as it was slavish submission to the tyranny of primitive medicine and hereditary customs of domestic sani- tation. It meant the bed in a closed room, with sunlight and fresh air shut out, a feather bed with heavy blankets, sun-burned water to drink, and food of panado, made by simmerino: before a slow fire crumbs of toasted bread in a pan of sun-warmed water, chicken-water prepared by stew- ing the shadow of some part of a chicken hanging by a string from the chimney-jamb, or gruel without salt or season- ing of any kind, and calomel to-day followed to-morrow by rancid castor-oil, or rhubarb sweetened with Santa Cruz sugar, with nose-holding to enforce its taking. Drinking- water was carefully prepared by exposure in a shallow vessel to the hot sun until it was as unpalatable and sicken- ing as the crude custom could make it. Burning thirst, with a tongue so dry that a cross and fretted boy could not utter his discourteous maledictions, was far preferable to such potations. Such was the ordinary regime of medicine, sanitation, and feeding, to which were sometimes added vene- section and sweating-teas, boneset for boys and tansy for SKETCH OF I'lAIU^Y [JFIC. 57 ^irls. Ah a spcciul favor, at the retributive sug^^cstioii of soiTK! old woman who had hiiricd u lialf-dozcii fliildn-n, ginger or saHSufras tea waw substituted, cs|)ccially in spring, when the succulent sassafras was in bloom. Diseases were not so inviting either in variety or prevalenee as nf)wadayH. Stumped toes, stone-bruises, l)iles, and flux, tiie latter espe- cially in green-apple times, and belly-ache when nuts were ripening, were the most common maladies in the summer, and in autumn seasons sore noses, chapped hands, in winter chilblains and choking coughs. Typhoid fever and diph- theria were not known then, but chicken-pox and whooping- cough made their usual migratory excursions, preparatory to more rapid and healthful development. For nose-colds and choking coughs "stewed rabbit" and goose-oil with brown sugar were fiivorite remedies. When the nose-colds did not quickly yield, rubbing of the organ with the melted drip- pings of a tallow-dip was very efficacious. Bilious fever was the dreaded endemic and invoked the highest attainment of medical art in bleeding, calomel-dosage, food-attenuation, and drinking-water sun -purified ; bleeding at the elbow- flexures, in the jugular, and as a unique resort at the ankle. I am still alive bearing these exsanguinating scars in memory of the skill and dexterity of my country physicians, both old practitioners, one of whom was a graduate and the other a first-courser of the University of Pennsylvania. The fore- going is not a fancy sketch, but the statement of personal experience as I distinctly recall it to-day. Blood and blind boils, technically known as furuncles, were most prevalent during the blackberry season, and were attributed to excessive ingestion of the succulent fruit. They were considered blood-purifiers, aud each one was valued at five dollars. I would have willingly sold all of mine at a shilling apiece, with thanks. They always seemed to prefer the parts where they would occasion the most inconvenience and greatest pain ; in fact, I never found, except on some- body else, a convenient place to have one. Stumped toes 58 ^ SOUVENIE. and stone-bruises were the necessary results of barefoot tramping and stick-horse prancing. The great toes and heels were the usual localities for such painful contusions. Barefoot exercise during proper seasons adds greatly to the country boy's enjoyment. Tramping through muddy places, when the soft mud will squeeze up between the toes, over the wet grass, up and down the shallow streams, climbing trees, speeding stick-horses on dirt roads, and chasing butter- flies through the clover fields are unknown pleasures to the foot-geared boy, not less enjoyable than riding bareback a sweatino- horse to water. But when bedtime came the old colored mammy came around with tub and water, soap and brush, and rubbed and scrubbed sore toes and bruised heels all alike, until the victim's anger aroused the grumpy old "granny" to a sense of her cruelty. In those days the early life of the country boy on the farm was more widely different than now from boy-life in town. It was coarser and more rugged, less diversified, but freer from dissipations, more limited in companionship, with fewer individual resources, and totally unaccustomed to the minor vices of a higher and more luxurious civilization. Tlie country boy was more self-reliant within the sphere of his mental and physical opportunities, but less suggestive of side-issues and by-way diversions ; consequently, his life was more monotonous, but sufficiently entertaining for healthy growth and development. His more regular habits, longer hours of sleep, fewer perturbating infiueuces, more active exercise in the open and purer atmosphere, freedom from society and social excesses, and more enlarged physical effort in the ways of natural life, and, as a rule, later and less strained mental discipline, all contributed to a more hardy and robust physique, and though a slower, certainly a more uniform development of those qualities of mind which direct and dominate the activities of manhood-life. His sports were neither scientific nor trained, and his fun and pleasures were the outbursts of natural impulses incited by nature's SKETCH OF EA III. V fJFh'. 59 environments. Ho was more natural and less exotic. Habits, mode, and inciitcmcnts of life formulated liis judj^ment, and his conclusions and oj)inions were more intuitive than logical. With the beginning of country school-days, and later boarding-school conditions, rivalries, and more congenial and intelligent companionship, with broader opportunities, soon marked the lines of division into two classes: one characterized by sloth and lack of force, the other by energy and rapid advancement in mental as in ;esthetic acquirements. As a rule, the boy trained to parental oljedicnee and in good morals won the honors of class competition. Brilliant pre- cocity was very rare. Parents did not seek adoration in such illuminated pictures of overstrained brain faculties, with premature maximum mind evolution, abruptly succeeded by stupid sloth long drawn out. My school-days began at about nine years of age, and my wild and child-life ceased, except on Saturdays and during brief holidays, consisting of several weeks during dog-days, several days at Christmas, two at Easter, one at Whitsun- tide, and the 4th of July. There were no legal holidays nor thanksgiving days. We were always giving thanks, and did not limit them to one day with a feast of mince-pie and chicken fixings. I had been taught to read, write, and cipher, and took hold of my new work with great avidity and ambition. The school began at 9 o'clock a.m., and was dismissed at 4 p.m., Avith an intermission for recreation and luncheon of one hour at high noon. For the first year or more I rode to and fro on horseback, with the old slave coachman behind me, who carried my books, luncheon, and marbles. The time consumed on the road and in studying tasks at home did not leave much " play-time," but whatever was left before supper and night-study was passed in some one of the varying pastimes that came readiest to my relief, during which I would often crowd in a whole day of joy and active pleasure. The half of many Saturdays was occupied with riding to mill on a bag of corn and back on a 60 ^ SOUVENIR. bag of raeal, or in going on horseback to town, nine miles distant, on errands and for the mail. The latter was an objectless task, more irksome than salutary ; but the former afforded an opportunity for a raid on somebody's cherry- tree, a swim in the mill-pond, a game at marbles, an occa- sional brawl at a country cur dog fight, and, less often, a furtive look at a cock-fight with steel gaffs, of which I did not make mention at home. On the whole, my mill-boy task was not unwillingly performed. A ride for several miles and back, up and down hill, on a three-bushel bag balanced across a horse's back, was an accomplishment not easily acquired by every country boy, and the country grist- mill was a place of such genial neighborhood resort and chat that a boy could hear and find much of interest, of good and evil import, preparatory for the next day Sunday-school. On my return from one of those errands to Georgetown, I was overtaken by Mr. Nathan Loughborough, then residing at Grassland, who introduced himself to me, and inquired if I was a son of John Busey, and when informed that I was, added that he thought he recognized the horse, old Gin, I was riding at the time. As we rode along together chat- ting, he told me of his intimacy with my father and said many pleasant things of him. When we reached the en- trance-gate to Milton, his farm on the river road, located about two miles north of Ten nally town, he stopped and said that he wished to offer me, in memory of his admiration for my father, a colt sired by his favorite stud, the Ace of Diamonds, which I accepted with the delight which can only be appreciated by a country boy. After parting I rode along hastily home that I might tell my mother of my good for- tune, who made me acknowledge in her name the generous gift. Soon after I was in possession of the colt and later on of a riding horse in my own right. This was a most inter- esting incident in the history of a boy, in that it enabled a gentleman, through his recollection of the horse, to establish with the son of his deceased friend and companion the SKETCH 0/'' /'JARLV LIFK Q\ friendly rol.'iti OILS l!i;il had, dniiii*; years hciforc, oxistfd ])(>.- tween liiinscK' and I lie (iillicr. Mr. Lf)ii}^lil)orouj^li was a lar^c, ])()i-tly, and very handsome; tn:in. Ai'icr liis tiiarria;^c with Mrs. Thomas, h(! took up his rcsidcncx! at Milton, and the pleasant a(;quaintanco of th(! two families was resumed. The mixed school of I)oys and girls l)rou<^lit nie into new and closer associations with the latter sex, which, I am quite sure, exercised a very happy influence in restraining the excesses and minor vices to which boys are so prone. I have not forgotten the rivalry between a pretty ■winsome red- haired girl and myself for head-place in certain classes, which taxed my capacity to the uttermost, and made the competitive struggle one of general comment and suggestive innuendo. Sometimes one of us would deliberately go from the head to the foot of the class, that he might show how easily he could reach the second place, and eagerly watch for the mistake that would put him or her at the head again ; but our rival- ries never grew beyond a lasting friendship, which terminated with her death some years ago. INIy country school-life con- tinued during four years with uninterrupted progress, closing in a private selected school within easy walking distance of the homestead, under the mastership of quaint old George Taylor, where, for the first time at school, I met the girl of my choice, with Avhom was formed that unbroken mutual affection which culminated in forty-two years of happy wedded life. The annual three Aveeks' school holidays, during dog-days, was an enforced concession, only granted by the schoolmaster when overpowered by the combined effort of the boys and girls. After failing in personal applications, begging solici- tations, and written petitions to placate his obdurate inhu- manity, which was not so much the result of his love of conscientious duty, as for the three weeks' rebate in tuition fees, the pupils engaged in an intrigue to lock him out, and when the day had come for its execution they assembled in the school-room, each one armed with some weapon of savage 62 ^ SOUVENIR. warfare — a broom, sticks, bundles of twigs, bucket of water, bags of fine dust, pop guns, bean-shooters, ink-squirts, slates and books, and such other pestering missiles as their inge- nuity and taste might improvise, securely barred the doors and windows with boards safely nailed to the frames, stationed guards at every crevice and peep-hole with squirts, dust- blowers, or pop -guns, as in their wisdom the committee of safety might choose, and then, when all was ready, engaged in singing a noisy romping song of triumph and defiance. All this was done during the absence of the master at luncheon at some near farm-house. The pickets along his route of return signalled his approach, and those round and near the fortress kept the garrison fully informed of his doings, and warned him of the danger of peeping through the cracks or banging at the barred openings. The siege was a period of grave concern to the imprisoned garrison, lest by " hook or by crook " the surly pedagogue should gain entrance and force a fight, hot with fright and hul-la-bal-loo ; but his impecuniosity always compromised with valor, and he pleaded for shorter vacation and less loss of pay, which the committee sometimes unwisely conceded, and thus the lockout would be happily ended, and the boys and girls, with song and merry- making, would hasten home to romp and play through long days of delicious pleasure. The system of public or common schools had not then been transplanted into Maryland soil. The pride of ancestry and nativity did not tolerate the intrusion of such Yankee notions. The country pedagogue was usually a college graduate, more learned than frugal, who had strolled from place to place, stopping only long enough at any one place to earn a precarious livelihood, and then, with a new suit of store clothes and his last tuition fees, take again to the road in search of some new field to flog blockhead and truant boys and transfuse simple girls with good learning. There were several other boys living at equal distance from the school-house, who, by arrangement, agreed to meet at the SKETCH OF KMLLY LII'K. 6."> entrance-gate of an ortiliaid fiirm, ;iii(l llicn; di.scljarge our horses and foot-hoys, to niO(!t us again in tlif; afternoon at the same gate for exit, that we might trainj) to and fro ah^ng the roads and pathways through tlie orchard and under the trees laden with luscious fruits in sucli variety that even such good boys could not resist the temjjtation to phick them, even at the risk of being caught by the ohl wizen wizard, who, with eudgel in her brawny hands, stood guard from " early morn till dewy eve ;" but three boys, with stealtli intent and fleet of foot, were not easily caught or frightened by the enchanter's wand. In those days the country school-l)oy did not carry in his lunch basket or satchel fruit from home, however abundant on the farm, because it bruised and flavored his bread and butter, fried chicken, and long sweetening, nor Avas it half so good as tliat gathered along the way from the hanging boughs of well-kept orchard trees. The ways through orchard-fields, though longer than the country cross-road, were planted with such strong temptations that distance added enchantment to the fascination. Of the many episodes none gave me more pleasure than the conventional visits with my mother in early spring and autumn to Georgetown to buy summer and winter clothes for special wearing on dress occasions. After an early and hasty breakfast, we would enter the family carriage, hung on C-springs, by climbing up the unfolded steps. Old Frank sat on the front seat in propria persona, with high silk hat, brass-buttoned dress coat, and whip in hand, and with old horse Snap we jogged away and along the road, with narrow ways, marshy places, up rough ascents, and down steep hills, here and there jolting over huge boulders, and altogether along just such a country road as made a country boy tired and hungry at both ends of the long journey of nine miles. After purchase of material, with colors of my selection and quality to my mother's liking, oif to old Tailor Cam mack to have patterns made by which to cut trousers and round- 64 -4 SOUVENIR. abouts for the domestic seamstress to fit and make, and then, after luncheon on cheese and crackers or candy and horse- cakes, jog back again to home, in high glee and brimful of brag about my new clothes, ribbon cravats, and bosom shams. With wistful pleasure, I watched day in and day out, and all day long the needle and thread as the seams grew longer and the pieces grew into shapely clothes, and wished for rainy days, that outside chores might not call the sewing-girl from her work. And, when all was done, I waited for the coming Sunday to don my suit of newly made clothes and show myself to all the people of the neighbor- hood. My first tailor-made suit came late in boyhood life, and was M^onderful to behold. I cannot fix the date of the earliest of those semi-annual visits to Georgetown, but the vivid recollection of an inci- dent that occurred in 1835 enables me to state that such visits must have begun about or perhaps a year previous to that date. The roughest part of the long journey was over the cobble-stone pavement on High, now Thirty-second Street, which began at its intersection with Market, now Thirty-third Street. At that date High, Bridge (now M), and Water (now K) Streets, and several others between M and K Streets were partially paved with cobble-stones, vary- ing in size from two and three to twenty inches in diameter. The surface of such streets was so uneven that no two wheels of a movino- vehicle were ever on the same level at the same time — so that our carriage got a four-cornered jolt with every turn of its M'^heels, with now and then a scrape down the slippery surface of a huge boulder into a sharp angular crevice, followed by an upward jog over the rugged face of another in like displacement. The acute angular gutters at street-crossings were also in evidence of the crude method of street-paving in vogue at that early period. But, notwithstanding such rough usage of the carriage, the coun- try boy was too much entertained with the strange and changing sights on the busy streets to heed the discomforts SKETCH OF EARLY IJFK. G5 incident thoroto. I fogs and cows ran at largo in llio Htrcotw. PTogs w'v.Yv. iiiiini(;i|)!il sc;iv successor, Otis ('. Wight, now of" this city, wan olcrtcd latf! in November. Immediately after the death of the principal the stiidents rcniaininjr in tlu; village, nine in nuriihcr, or- ganized into a cla.ss and elected the senior, William 8. Grafl", to the tutorship, to whom all recitations were made as regu- larly and ])ronii)tly as to the de(!eased principal. The Hoard of Trustees of the Aeadcsmy at that time was constituted, with others, of John Mines, D.D., a distinguished divine of the Presbyterian denomination ; E. Erving Gillis, D.D., afterward rector of Ascension Parish in this city; Richard John Bowie, late Chief Justice of the Court of Appeals of Maryland, and John Brewer, a distinguished attorney at the local bar. All the applicants for the vacancy failed at the first examination, and the advertisment for applications was renewed. A day or two afterward Mr. Wight reached the village, and, being informed of the failure to fill the vacancy, determined to wait until the second examination. In the meantime, by request, he assumed the tutorship of the class of nine, and on the day of examination of appli- cants that class of boys voluntarily uuited in a petition to the Board of Trustees in favor of the election of Mr. Otis C. Wight to the vacancy. I do not know how much, if any, the recommendation influenced the Board, but he was, to our great satisfaction, selected. I may be excused for concluding this narrative with the following letter from this venerable and honored man : 306 Indiana Avenue, October 14, 1895. "Dear Dr. Busey: "I have received, through the hands of John, a copy of your Per- sonal Reminiscences, for which please accept my thanks. I have already been much interested in some portions of the book, and am anticipating pleasure in further perusal. But I am especially grati- fied in being thus remembered by one of the first pupils at the Rockville Academy — one of the nine in the classical department. I often think of those days, just fifty-two years ago. I had been out of college one year and had launched my boat on the sea of life, almost as uncertain where I should cast anchor as the patriarch Abraham 74 A SOUVENIR. was when he left home. I am a firm believer in the leading and guiding hand of my Heavenly Father, and I thank him for leading me to Rockville, a place which I knew not of ten or twelve days be- fore I commenced teaching the ' nine.' I have kept them all in interested remembrance and watched their progress. I sincerely congratulate you for what you have accomplished, for the distinction you have achieved, not only in practice professional, but for your numerous contributions to medical literature. " Most truly your friend, "0. C. Wight." During my residence at Rockville I lived with one of two private families — during the first year with the family of Thomas F. Vinson, and afterward with that of John Brewer. My mother was averse to boarding-house life, where I could have had the companionship of school friends and class- mates during out-of-school hours. My pleasures and pas- times were, therefore, limited and mainly restricted to my own resources, which consisted for the most part in study and reading, with an occasional ramble, most often alone, but sometimes with some chum with whom I had made a special engagement to go swimming, fruit-hunting, nut- gathering, or for some other mutually agreeable recreation. On one occasion, made memorable by certain incidents, I occupied the greater part of an off-day in gathering chest- nuts for my winter supply. After strolling for some time through unknown forests and fields, I discovered in an open field a very large chestnut tree with wide-spreading branches filled with open hulls ready for the thrashing-pole. I climbed to its upper branches, and as I descended thrashed every branch until I thought I had stripped it of every ripe nut ; then gathered them into my bag, and trudged back home with the product of my half day's hard work, for which I was complimented by Mr. and Mrs. Brewer. A few days after one of two maiden ladies, who was notorious for her boisterous dislike of mischievous boys, dined with the family, and Avhile at the table opened fire with volley after volley of just such words as made me wince in silent SKf'JTCir OF EAItl^Y LII'K. 75 and unite (lespcnitioii, lest I iiii^lit in Honic munnor exiiihit some sign of guilt that would provoke her anger beyond the vehement utterance of euss words. Mr. and Mrs. Ji. very- soon connocited nu; with the oirence, and very adroitly as- sisted me in escaping detection. Miss Belle never discovered the offender, and I never again invaded her premises. As a matter of personal history another incident may be worthy of record. Attracted by the apparent pleasure and consolation which the village smokers, as they loafed about the streets, seemed to derive, I reasoned myself into the belief that I might find company and comfort in the vice. On a single occasion, on my way along the street to my home on the outskirts of the village, I bought at a grocery store a cigar of the Principe brand, put it safely into my pocket, and walked along leisurely homeward in lonely con- templation of the pleasure to come. Late in the afternoon, after I had completed my study task, I strolled into the peach orchard to gratify a gluttonous appetite with the ripened fruit, and when fully satisfied sat down on the grass under a tree in peaceful contentment, lighted my cigar and puffed away great mouthsful of smoke that curled upward through the leaves of the overhanging branches of the tree. Every boy with such early experience knows full well what followed. The half-consumed cigar soon dropped from the finger's grasp, my head began to whirl, sight grew dim and dimmer, with visions of indescribable forms floating near and far in the circumambient space, like spectres in " confusion worse confounded," languor was followed by such relaxation that I lay so prostrate upon the greensward that I could not roll from side to side in the agony that came with the mouth gaping so wide that the joints of my lower jaws would creak with strain, the tongue would protrude with such force against the lower incisors as seemed would cut it crosswise, and the upheaving straining of a stomach filled to repletion added torture to the anguish of my suffering. I need hardly add that I was late at supper and early to bed that evening. 76 A SOUVENIR. Several decades passed before I again tested the flavor of a Principe, but now I am not unlike the village loafer, seeking pleasure and consolation in the vice of smoking. With such exceptions my life at Rockville was uneventful, with a weekly visit home, which for the most part was passed in idle recreation with the family, and a visit to Springfield, the homestead of the Posey family, to keep up and foster my acquaintance with the girl to whom I have before re- ferred, until she, like myself, was sent away to boarding- school, the circumstance which, perhaps, had more influence than any incident of my life in determining my course of conduct in after-life. I lived then to win her love, as I lived long afterward to make her happy and comfortable. There were pretty girls at Rockville, but I was callous to their be- witching charms, " for never was one more blind to beauty that hangs upon the cheeks." My sly visits on Saturdays to Springfield were not always free from perturbating incidents that sharpened the ragged edges of disappointment and pierced my hopes with discon- solate misgivings. Miss Catharine had younger sisters, especially one just at the age when little sisters will hang around, catch bits of conversation, and take pleasure in tell- ing tales out of school. I was not afraid of her gossipy and tattling tongue, for I was too shy and timid to tell the story of my love, and kept as far away from the real object of my visits as a bashful youth tries, but usually fails, to do. The fascinations of a pretty girl, with winsome ways and not altogether free from coquettish pranks, are a little too much for the country youth whose bashfulness is tlie measure of his infatuation. On such occasions the little sister, with coy reluctance, would whisper, in sentences broken by pert side glances and smothered exaltation, into my wistful ears stories of the frequent visits of rival suitors, whose opportunities were so much more favorable than mine, that sank so deep into my heart as sometimes to hasten the good-bye and a petulant departure, to return along the lonely road to Stony SKETCH F KA R L V L FFK 7 7 Lonesome, and there to drain (In- cup of j)oii( .-uid lieavy- he;irt(;dnos.s in ixu>ck iii(!rriin('iit and iMH)rovi.sod ^ood rlicer. But, witli iVcsli (•(mnigr, the succ-ecding .Saturday found me on the road to repeat my visit, and tlie greeting of i\u-. little sister, perhaps at the entrance gate, where slie was wont to watch, witli the welcome salutation that sister Kitty was waiting my arrival, was sufficiently significant to inspire even such a diffident lover with hope, and encourage him to accept the innocent pranks of a girl's affection with less trepidation. I do not know how much the chatty sister may have teased my rivals with newsy tales of myself, for they were older than T, and looked upon me as a lovesick youth whose infatuation would attenuate with delay ; but she was my good friend, and seemed to play the part of an avaunt- Gourier, bearing peace-offerings, wath bits of information that served, at least, to lighten the burden of distrust and hold out a ray of hope. Like one drowning, I caught at every straw, and drank in deeply the friendly prattle. I was even more ready to accept trivial signs of favor than quick to pout with the dumps. And so the boyhood courtship ran its course of miseries and pleasures through several weary years, with gradually increasing confidence, before I could screw my courage up to the sticking-point "to tell the story of my timid homage," and bear away "the chief of all love's joys" — " the breath of a maiden's yes." This event came to pass during the early autumn of 1845, after I had commenced the study of medicine in the office of Doctor Hazekiah ISIagruder, in Georgetown, and the young lady had finished her course of studies at the seminary in the same city, kept by Miss English, and each of us was freed from the discipline of boarding-schools, which had limited our interviews to Saturdays. I was then at liberty to make my visits at my pleasure and her convenience. Previously I had chosen Saturday because both of us were at our country homes on that day, and I was not so likely to be embarrassed 78 ~ -4 SOUVENIR. by the intrusion of other visitors. During the succeeding six or eight months our affianced lives ran their course in smooth- ness until broken bv my departure for Philadelphia to enter the private office of Prof. George B. Wood, and to matricu- late in the University of Pennsylvania, from which I grad- uated on April 8, 1848. During my residence in Philadelphia I made but one visit home, during which I was a daily visitor at Springfield. The photogravure picture marked 1848 is a reproduction of a daguerrotype taken a few days before my graduation. In those days engaged people did not rush into the public press to announce it. The engagement was held as an invio- lable secret, not to be communicated outside of the immediate families of the affianced couple until the wedding-day was fixed. Of course, in a country neighborhood, gossipy innu- endo and suggestion kept up a continuous discussion of an affair M^hich everybody believed, but no one knew to be true. Immediately after graduation in medicine I settled in this city, and was married on the first day of May, 1849. As I have, in the foregoing pages, referred to the slave environments of my early life, it may not be inappropriate to supplement those allusions with some more general state- ment of such surroundings as I saw them at that early date. Whilst the general and enforced manumission of slaves must have convinced every reflecting person of the evils of slavery in general, and more especially of the adverse influences of slave-labor, so obstructive to the progress of a higher civili- zation, my young experience leaves no impression of those wrono:s and cruelties of which I have heard and read so much in later years. There were not many slaves in the neighborhood, but nearly every farm was cultivated in whole or in part by slaves, in some cases led in the field by the owner or grown sons, with hired white labor, between whom and the slaves there were no labor distinctions. In the harvest and mowing fields the best cradler and most expert scythe- SKETCH OF EARL Y IJFE. 79 man, white or black, woiiM \n\ uwjinlcd iIk; loadorshij), arifl the lafijgard AjII to tlu; rear. They were, with rare exeeptions, an onh;rly, f^iiiet, wfil- behaved, church-goirif^ people, usually attendini^ the master's church. All had their fi^o-to-mcetiu}^ ch)the.s, the women with red or striped turbans, a neat, if" not tasteful, head- gear, and other dress-wear, if not to match, quite as pleasing to their taste. Every slave family had its farm perquisites, in the way of allowances for free and over-time, rabbit and partridge trapping, nut-gathering, fruit-drying, garden truck, and, occasionally, a pig to feed and butcher for barter, and small money donations, with off Saturdays to go to town to barter and buy. They were cheerful, if not the most indus- trious laborers. Negroes, like most white people, love labor best with least hard work, and if not frugal in their methods, they accomplish their work-tasks without detriment to their physical being. Surely my association with and youthful observations of the negro slaves during my country and farm life occasion me no regret. They treated me with kindness, gentleness, and, perhaps, too much forbearance, and the " mndders" were more ready with rod and switch to punish my companion-playmates than those who were better judges of my aggressive spirit. I do not claim this picture of contentment and happiness was free from blemishes, but they were only such as served to bring out the finished parts in more vivid contrast and make a more enduring impression. To conclude this sketch without a final reference to the wife of forty-two years of a happy life would prove me recreant to the finer feelings of honor and affection. Xot one day has passed since her death, January 26, 1891, that I have failed to recall the charming recollections of her sweet and lovely disposition, and to-day I cherish her memory with the same pride and ardor as when the two young hearts were made one. To those who kncAv her no eulogium is necessary to revive and intensify their admiration, nor can I offend the precious memories of her life by any attempt to pictm-e her 80 ^ SOUVENIR. pure life by the measure of my affectionate regard and devotion ; but I write of her as others knew her. Her Christian purity remains to-day untarnished by one thought or spoken word of evil of any human being. Her kindly and equitable temperament, mellowed and strengthened by genuine friendship, high integrity, benevolence, and Christian faith added beauty and simplicity to a character so blessed with the saintly qualities of mind and heart that none knew her but to love her, and the better she was known the more she was loved. I forbear to add another word. MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS AK-D ADDRESSES. MEDICAL ASSOCIATION OF THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA. ADDRESS BEFORE THE MEDICAL ASSOCIATION OF THE DIS- TRICT OF COLUMBIA, ON A RESOLUTION TO REVISE ITS CODE OF ETHICS AND REGULATIONS, DELIVERED MAY, 1874. In support of his motion Dr. Busey said he had offered the resohition believing the time had come when the Asso- ciation should be reorganized. Its Code of Ethics and reg- ulations should be revised and made to conform to the Code of Ethics of the American Medical Association. As this body, to qualify its delegates to the national organization, was compelled to adopt the Code of Ethics of that body, and every delegate presenting his credentials was required to sign it, it was manifest that no local provision or regulation antag- onistic to the general code could be binding. The code of the American Medical Association was liberal and surely sufficient to guide and control the intercourse be- tween medical gentlemen and between physician and patient. All provisions and regulations of the local code inconsistent with and antagonistic to it should be stricken out. He pointed out several of these contradictions, and he maintained, further, that stringent and penal regulations accomplished no good. Honorable gentlemen did not need them, and dishonorable men did not obey them. Unless penal laws were rigorously and impartially enforced the innocent suffered, and experi- ence had clearly shown that this body would not sustain the standing committee in its efforts to maintain the authority of 84 ESSA YS AND ADDRESSES. its owG enactments. Hence he desired the ffood to be as free as the bad. He insisted that the Association should disconnect itself from the Medical Society of the District of Columbia, and not require a license from that organization as an essential qualification of membership. He claimed that female physicians should be allowed con- sultations. While he was not the advocate either of mixed medical schools or of female doctors, and thought that medi- cine was not the calling of women, still he was not forgetful of the fact that in times past women had risen to distinction in the profession, and believed there was more than one then living destined to become eminent. If it was an evil, it was such an evil that neither this organization nor the entire medical profession of the country could abate, and hence it was the part of wisdom, justice, and humanity to strike from their regulations all provisions pro- hibiting the members from consulting with female doctors. This Association purported to be a voluntary organization, but its arbitrary and illiberal regulations made membership compulsory, because it denied to regularly educated physicians rights and privileges which belonged to them as physicians, and required them to seek admission to secure such rights. He maintained that consultations were for the benefit of and belonged to the patients, aud that no local society had a right to restrict consultations to its own membership. The regula- tion of the American Medical Association governing consulta- tions was wise and humane, and nothing more was necessary. By denying consultations to those not members and to females they punished the sick, denied to them the medical advice they desired, controlled members who wished to main- tain the integrity of the Association, and by failing to punish those who violated its regulations permitted those of question- able honor to seek and solicit the patronage of the non-mem- bers, to the injury of many members. He was opposed to the restriction placed upon professional ESSA YS A NI) A I) I) II I'lSSKS. 85 inlciToiirsd witli army and navy Kiirj^eons 8tation(n;iintain any (!X(;liisiv(! doctrine of caiisafion, or to oonstrtic.t any new theory, Wiit rather to extend the field of inquiry and to direct your studies away from a too exelu.sive consideration of the very pnivalentiy received (jpinions and theories in regard to the ever-fermenting and widesj)reafling agency of bad-sraelling, impure, and foul exhalations, as the chief and segregate cause of summer intestinal diseases. Intestinal diseases, both among adults and children, are comparatively rare in the farming regions, and both classes of the rural population, adult and infantile, are more gener- ally consumers of fruits and vegetables, anrl suffer less detri- ment therefrom, than like classes of the population of cities. Far the larger proportion of infantile intestinal diseases occurs 1 The influence of lactation, both natural and artificial, in the causation of infantile intestinal diseases, is far too frequently overlooked. Milk is the natural aliment of young animals, but the nursling is very frequently fed exclusively upon milk wholly delicient in the necessary nutrient and healthy constituents, and, indeed, often upon it when it is diseased. The unwholesome and sometimes pernicious changes pro- duced in the mother's milk by sudden bursts of passion, by a nervous temperament, by menstruation and pregnancy, by excessive sexual indulgence, by irregular habits of life, and by certain articles of diet, are too well established by clinical observation, if not by chemical analysis, to be considered as mere coincidences unworthy of the attention and careful scrutiny of the scientific physician. Decaisne {London Lancet, September, 1872) has shown that insufficient food may occasion very serious and varied disturbances of the quality of the milk. In his report to the Academie des Sciences of the results of his observations of forty-three women who nursed their infants during the siege of Paris, he deduced the conclusions that some women may, upon insufficient diet, produce abundant and rich milk, and their children will thrive, while they themselves will emaciate. Another class will produce but httle milk, and that very poor, and their children will suffer for want of nutriment and sicken with choleraic diarrhoea, and a third class will produce scarcely any, and their children will die. In syphilitic mothers the proportion of sugar is diminished and water increased in the milk ; fever lessens, and may suppress the secretion ; emotion, mental anxiety, and sorrow may diminish it or render it poisonous ; puerperal fever seriously disturbs its healthy qualities ; insufficient air, sedentary habits, and want of cleanli- ness not infrequently impart to it conditions injurious to the health of the nursling. Certain drugs administered to the mother may affijct the infant. Iodine can be detected in the milk ; mercury given to syphilitic mothers will be conveyed to the suckling ; opiates and some purgatives will demonstrate their physiological effects upon the infant. Lettuce imparts its qualities to the milk, yielding " when inspis- sated (Redwood) lettuce opium, or lactiicimum." Garlic, the onion, cabbage, turnips, and even green clover will impart a distinctive aroma to the milk of cows feeding upon them. But more important are the facts that the quality and quantity of the milk are dependent upon the character of the food and the vigor and healthfulness of the digestion. A meagre diet affects almost exclusively the quantity of butter and casein ; a bad diet imparts deleterious qualities. 90 ESSAYS AXB ADDBESSES. among those beyond the age of six months — that is, subsequent to the period at which the natural aliment is usually consid- ered by the laity adequate to the demands of growth and de- velopment ; and far the larger percentage of mortality occurs among the children of the poor and squalid residents of cities — the class necessarily the most indiscreet consumers of cheap and deteriorated vegetables and fruits. Statistics establish the greater prevalence of these diseases between the ages of six and thirty months, and among the artificially fed, and greater proportionate mortality in the densely populated dis- tricts, and among the children of the poorer classes. Can it be that those under six months, those advanced beyond thirty months, and those nursed at the breast are less exposed to and less impressible by atmospheric influences ? Undoubt- edly the intercurrent affections and developmental peculiari- ties of the period exercise very considerable influence in predisposing to intestinal disease; but, assuredly, improper alimentation must constitute the chief among the many fac- tors concerned in the etiology.^ It is then manifest that intestinal diseases are most prevalent during the warmer months of the year — June, July, August, and September, when vegetables and fruits are most abundant and deterio- ration most rapid — are proportionately far more frequent among communities of consumers who can only obtain sup- plies by purchase, and are most fatal among the poor, who from necessity become the purchasers of the cheapest and most deteriorated. These significant facts are not adduced to disprove the manifold ill effects of a bad atmosphere and of fetid exhala- tions, but to invite your attention to the consideration of 1 starchy aliments are indigestible in consequence of the feebleness of the diges- tive properties of the salivary, pancreatic, and intestinal juices of young children. They are also deficient in " materials for the re-integration of the principal tissues, which is so necessary to the growing infant." Sonsino established the condition of "physiological dyspepsia in infants for starchy aliments." Korowin has deduced the conclusion from a series of experiments that the property of the pancreatic juice to transform starch into sugar is only manifest after the third month of life, but that the parotidean saliva possesses this power from birth. In regard to both secretions, this power becomes more active with the development of the child. /';S',SM VS AND ADDIiKSSICS. 01 aiiotliiT :mi|Ui'iil, aiid (Wvi'cX an aijjcncy in tlif; cauHatioii of iiil-(!Htiii:iI disf-aHcs; aii ADDIIKSSES. 95 diniiniHlics Itn nilativo niilntivc <|iiality and lia.stfns llic dc- BtriKilivo pnxtcss. Tlic tiilx-r hIioiiM Ik; firm and '-iit with crispncsH. The; cliicf value of tli(! [xdato licH in itn antiwor- butic projjertios. '' Ten frraiiiH (Smith) of |)otalo confiumcd in the body j)r()diui(! heat siifTicient (o raise 20 pounds of water 1° F., or to lift 1977 pounds one foot." The pea (Pisum sativum), as a fresh vegetable, is eaten unripe, hut should have n^ac^hed tlie stage of maturity wlun the seed-husk is filled. It, like the potato, comes first from the far South, and successively from nearer regions. As a fresh vegetable pease bear transportation badly, soon wilt, heat, wither, shrink, fade, and deteriorate after having been gathered and packed. It is a tedious crop to gather and a bulky product to transport. The producer gathers his table- supply during the forenoon, perhaps before the morning sun has evaporated the dew from the leaves and seed-pods. Upon his table the pea is a delicious, inviting, and richly flavored vegetable, seeming to dissolve during the process of mastica- tion, and digests without inconvenience. For the market the crop is more frequently gathered when too far advanced toward ripeness than before the fitted stage of development — and for the obvious reason that transportation is better borne and the loss is less from shrinkage. Usually the gath- ering is done during the heat of the day, because of less injury to the vine while wiltering under a blazing sun ; but the pru- dent farmer never enters his pea-patch until the gathering is ready for his '^ pickers" — that is, when the hand can pluck a number of pods at a single grasp, for he wisely estimates the cost of time lost in clutching at single pods, and knows too well that the loss in price by a few days' delay will be abundantly made up by the increased measurement from the too far advanced and ripened seed-pods. Thus gathered, they are immediately packed in barrels and transported to market. Very speedily the heating-process begins, and during a few hours the temperature in the centre of such a bulk will rise considerably above blood-heat, and when emptied upon the salesman's stand the subsequent morning the loosened 96 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. bulk will emit an amazing volume of smoke — condensing steam ; or perhaps more time has elapsed, and the heating- process has been completed, succeeded by other destructive changes. The seed-pods have lost their fresh and pea-green color, their crispness and resiliency ; have faded and with- ered — flattened, as the salesman will tell you, by pressure, but in fact by the loss of natural moisture expelled by the steam- ing -process. The contained seeds, the only edible portion, have lost entirely their peculiar luscious flavor, have acquired toughness and, to a greater or less degree, hardness, and the seed-husk no longer submits to ordinary digestion. Each seed must be crushed between the molars, or else may roll through the alimentary canal, except for the preliminary cooking, conditioned for a vigorous vegetation. The seed- pulp contains all the nutrient qualities, but cannot be sepa- rated from the husk in the green state. The husk acquires firmness as the seed-pulp jarogresses to complete development, and loses color through the ripening-process. It is better to select for the table undeveloped rather than past-developed peas, and small, immature pea-green pods rather than the faded and ripening ones. The peculiar greenish hue is an essential characteristic of freshness. " They should (Chambers) be young, and their skins tender enough to crack in boiling." In such condition they are sweet, easily digested, but less nutritious than when fully matured. " When old (Chambers, Pavy) no amount of boiling will soften them ; indeed, the longer they are boiled the harder they become." When dried they are deprived of their husks before cook- ing, and when thoroughly boiled constitute a good article of diet for those blessed with vigorous digestion. Composition of the Dried Pea (Paye n). Nitrogenous matter 23 .8 starch, etc 58.7 Cellulose 3.5 Fatty matter 2.1 Mineral matter 2.1 Waxer 8.3 ES8A YS A Nl) A DDIIESSES. 97 Beans. JicariH arc ev<'ii iiion; jK'riHhal)l(! tlinn jicaHf!. Ah a fronli v('f];(!tiil)Ic, holli jhxIh and hwxX an; ('(lihlo, and in tlifir liigliost perftu'tioii for the table tlicy must be youn^, flenliy, brittle, and tender. The Huceulence and flcshineHH of the pods invite destructive changes, and in bulk, closely ])acked, rot soon begins. Hence it becomes the interest of the distant grower to delay the gathering beyond the stage of dietary perfection; and, consequently, of the city consumer to pur- chase liis sujiplies from the growers of liis vicinage. Beans should bo pac^ked loosely in siuall bulk and in crates. A coarse vegetable at best, but nutritious and harmless when in proper condition. They are cheiip, and therefore popular among the poorer classes. As the pods ripen color fades, dryness increases, and they become tough and tasteless. Cattle will not eat them. Even when gathered in proper condition and properly packed deterioration soon begins, and, though not actually rotten, the loss of succulence and brittleness denotes changes which unfit such pods for table-use. Beans are sometimes improperly eaten as salad, in the preparation of which vinegar should never be used, for it renders the legumiu insoluble, and thus prevents digestion. Composition of Dried Beans (Pa yen). Horse bean. Windsor bean. Nitrogenous matter 30.8 29.05 Starch 48.3 55.85 Cellulose 3.0 1.05 Fatty matter 1.9 2.00 Saline matter 3.5 3.65 Water 12.5 8.40 100.0 100.00 The leguminosae are rich in nitrogenous matter, and ap- proximate in nutritive value the products of the animal kingdom. They possess the special advantage of combining sulphur and phosphorus with the vegetable casein ; but in consequence of the indigestibility of the legumin about 6.5 per cent, is lost, and escapes with the excremeutitious matter, and much flatus (Parkes) is also produced by the formation 7 98 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. of sulphuretted hydrogen. In combination with other starchy or fatty ah'meuts they constitute valuable articles of diet. Bacon and beans in this country, as in England, has been a favorite dish, especially among the laboring-classes, who are accustomed to much exercise and continuous labor. Tomatoes. The tomato {Solanum ly coper sicum), so univer- sally and deservedly popular among all classes of consumers of vegetables, when ripe and gathered and packed with ordi- nary care, bears carriage well, and is usually supplied to city consumers in great perfection. Those brought, in early spring, from the remote South have beeu gathered green, are packed with very great care, each wrapped in a separate piece of paper, and are thus ripened on their journey. Those sup- plied from the near vicinity, after a killing frost has bared the earth of all summer vegetation, have been ripened under glass. When the chilling wind and falling thermometer threaten frost the grower hastens to save the green fruit upon the vines. It is hastily gathered and put under glass and thus colored red — not, in fact, matured. Such fruit possesses but little of the attractive flavor and nutrient quali- ties which belong to the matured and naturally ripened fruit; but it finds ready sale, and is offered to the consumer in the best condition attainable. It is the business of the pro- ducer to supply the demand, and it is no fault of his if the luxurious palates of city consumers are only to be satisfied with green fruit colored red. I regard the tomato as a healthy, agreeable, and nutritious vegetable, but have no confidence in its cholagogue or blood-purifying qualities, as very many of the laity believe and some physicians claim. In the flesh reside all the nutritive and gustatory qualities, hence they should always be peeled preparatory to being eaten. The preliminary degenerative change is fermentive, which rapidly progresses to the complete destruction of all the fleshy part, leaving nothing but the seed and thin but tough skin. Neither seed nor skin is digestible. Feed hogs upon tomatoes and scatter the manure from the sty upon a KSSA VS AND Al ) I ) I i liSS EH. [)[) barren field, iind f()inat<)-[>liuilH will flitiiiisli like noxioufl weeds. (Jornmiriifie tlio refuse skins with h1o|), and flie hog will <^•u•('fldIy avoid tlicm, leaving tlifrn in tlie vcHsel from which he Cccd.s. Jiot will very slowly destroy toniato- slcins. Throw them into a cesspool, and they will offer an obstinate re.sislanei' to the putrefactive process. They dis- appear through disintegration by dryness. Notwithstanding all this, some foolish people will insist that the choicest part of this popular vegetable is the skin, and not infrequently I have known young children to be fed upon the sliced fruit without previous peeling or ordinary care to avoid the in- gestion of the seed. The following analysis^ is by Dr. B. F, Craig, of this city: " A can of tomatoes was found to contain 2.04 pounds avoirdupois, of which, however, only 0.05 pound (22.75 grains) were solid matter, dried at 212° F. There was, therefore, 97.6 per cent, of water present. " The acid of the tomato I found to be malic, with a trace of citric, the amount of the free malic acid being equivalent to 315 parts in 100,000, or a little over three-tenths of 1 per cent. (Lemon-juice contains about twenty-five times as much free acid.) In tomatoes there is about as much more malic acid in combination with bases. ' ' The amount of vegetable acid — its proportion to the total solid matter — is of itself enough to make tomatoes valuable as an antiscorbutic ; but it certainly seems desirable, in can- ning them, to get rid of the great excess of water." Chambers regards the tomato as a healthy but not a sub- stantive article of diet, and Pavy regards it more as a relish than a nutritive element. Surgeon Swift would regard it as an addition to the army ration of great value, if the excess of water could be disposed of. Tomatoes may be eaten cooked or sliced raw as a salad with oil and vinegar ; and are easily digested when ripe, but when 1 Circular No. S, Report on Hygiene, xxxix. IGO ESSAYS AND ABDBESSES. green are flatiileut. Their only medicinal property is exclu- sively derived from the very limited quantity o£ malic acid, and it may be defined as mildly antiscorbutic. Cucumber (^Cucumis sativus). Perhaps no one member of the family of kitchen garden vegetables has so many greedy devourers as the cucumber. There is something so refresh- ing and exhilarating about the appearance of a dish of sliced cucumbers prepared for the table, and something so attrac- tive to the palate in its peculiarly inviting and mouth-water- ing aroma, that one's self-denial oftentimes fails to protect the stomach from the indigestible mass, and consumers fail to appreciate the fact that they are vigorously masticating an aroma, deriving but little if any sustenance. Why preferred for the table before maturity I do not know. Swine, I be- lieve, select the full-grown and matured fruit, ripened to a golden-yellow color, as the choicest, and certainly the aroma is more decided and the juicy constituent is most abundant at maturity. For home-consumption it is gathered in early morning, while chilled by the morning temperature, and either immersed in cold water or kept in a cool place until prepared for the table. Not easily digested at best, yet those who eat them with such avidity are very unwilling to acknowl- edge any after ill-effects, and it is assuredly true that country consumers usually escape merited suffering. The cucumber carries well, resists decay, withers slightly, loses some in crispness and brittleness, and acquires toughness, but retains flavor for some days, and is usually offered for sale in a fair state of preservation. Without presenting manifest evidences of destructive change, it speedily undergoes some alteration which renders it exceedingly hurtful to healthy ■digestion and provocative of intestinal trouble. It would seem that these evil effects were projjortionate to the loss of the watery constituent, and thus gathering during the heat of the day, exposure, and the lapse of time promote those changes which so seriously impair its dietary qualities. Cucumbers, like celery, says Chambers (loc. cit., p. 49), are KSSA YS A NI) A /) DRESSES. ]()] not suitable for oati'nj; raw aftnr a full nic;il. Tlu' f|iiaiitity "f woody fil)r(! in liiciii carmot he di^cslcd. " With hrcad and chocHc, aH a Ii<;iit huK^h.thcy ^ivc an a, hirriHolf on bad wat(!r aiul iioxioUH gases. If one will have cabbage to season his bacon and pork, purehaHC the heads fn^sli, nnstripped of the green and most nutritions h*avf!8, and buy it daily from th(! j)ro(hi(!er, and not from the huck- ster when old and blanched, with 94 per cent, of watf;r and but nine-t(!nths of 1 ])o.r (!(Mit. of nitrogenouH material. On such .substances nursing-worn(!n feed to make rich milk, and puny babies are fed to promote vigor and growth. The dis- agreeable, penetrating, and t(!naeions odor of boiling cabbage ought to banish it from the kitchen. The twmip {Brasdca napus) belongs to the cabbage-tribe. It is les:^ nutritious than the young, fresh, green cabbage, but more so than the matured and blanched heads. Composition of the Turnip (Letheby). Nitrogenous matter 1.2 Starch, etc 5.1 Sugar 2.1 Salts 0.6 Water 91.0 One pound of turnips (Smith) contains : Swede. White. Carbon 30.4 grains. 17.3 grains. Nitrogen 15.3 " 11.2 " Dr. H. C Bastian, in his experiments on spontaneous gen- eration, made much use of a solution of turnip as being an especially favorable medium for the growth of bacteria and other microzymes; and my friend, Dr. J. S. Billings, U. S. A., in repeating Dr. Bastian's experiments, found that bacteria developed more rapidly in a solution of the turnip than in any other medium employed by him. This fact may be of but little value as a proof of the speedy deterioration of the turnip ; but in view of other researches, as yet, perhaps, not determinative of any practical conclusion, the interesting in- quiry presents itself — ^yhat relation does the development of bacteria bear to the degenerative change which vegetables and fruits undergo, and how far such microzymes may be con- cerned in the causation of disease? Accepting the researches 104 ESSAYS AND ADBBESSES of M. Pasteur that " putrefaction is a fermentation deter- mined by infusoria of the family of vibrios and by bacteria," and the further conclusion, deducible from the researches of M. Davaine, that septic matter owes its toxic properties to the development of bacteria, it requires but little stretch of the imagination to conceive how purulent iufection might follow the introduction into the system of bacteria generated during the process of vegetable decomposition, unless it be maintained that such infusoria differ in their virulence from those of septic matter. This is but a passing suggestion. Like cabbage, the turnip is not easily digested. Age and germination diminish its nutritive quality and lessen its digestibility. As an aliment it is less valuable than either the carrot or the parsnip. Composition of the Caerot (Letheby). Nitrogenous matter 1.3 starch, etc 8.4 Sugar 6.1 Fat 0.2 Mineral matter 1.0 Water 83.0 " Ten grains of carrot (Smith) when consumed in the body produce heat sufficient to raise 1.36 pounds of water 1° F., which is equal to lifting 1031 pounds one foot high," exceed- ing the power of an equal amount of cabbage 197 pounds, and 946 pounds less than an equal amount of potato. Composition of the Parsnip (Letheby). Nitrogenous matter 1.1 Starch, etc 9.6 Sugar 5.8 ' Fat 0.5 Salts 1.00 Water 82.0 The parsnip and carrot (Smith) require from two and a half to three and a half hours to digest. Contrary to the popular belief, the turnip, carrot, and pars- nip are more easily digested and more valuable as aliments than the cabbage; and it is remarkable that the parsnip ESSA YS A Nl) A DhUKSSKS. ] 05 and CJirrof, an; not inon; generally ti.scd. IJotli an- prodiu-- tivc crops, carry well, are eanily j)reHervo lO CO cc rH O rt i-H <^ m S 00 "^ CO Oi CO '"' -3< in ci : d d ci d d d d d d d d d d S ^ ■<«< CO m ^ l:~ ■* l:~ 01 ■> £? t >, a) i 3 S3 8 ■G P. si O 0) B g 8 M ^ n t o 03 "3 5 I>ILI':SSI-:S. 1 1 1 fie(!(lH and .skinn ar DRESSES. 119 take |)la(!(', in frcsli fniifs, rutr tlio cSfcct (tf sufli iinporfoctly (l(!V('loj)e(l fruits wlicn coiiHiuucd ;iH food. Tlie final con.sidorations relate exeln.sivcly to the remedy for the imposition praetised in the sale of fresh vegetables and fruits. A system of competent inspection will undoubtedly accom])lish nuicli and correct many of the alleged abuses; and not only must the plan be wisely regulated, but the officials must be ])ersons skilled in the art of gathering and packing and in the trans|iortation of perishable fruils and vegetables. No mere novice who has passed a lounging life in a city, absolutely ignorant of the essential qualities of fresh fruit and vegetables, too weak to resist temptation, and too timid to discharge fearlessly a disagreeable duty, would accomplish any good. To this must be added the right of confiscation. The enormity of the crime must be brought directly home to the practical and pecuniary necessities of the offender. The business of huckstering can be conducted in a proper manner with profit, and I would rather not believe that every man engaged in the business resorts to the tricks of the trade. But the most effectual means for the accomplishment of satisfactory results will be the establishment of free market- places for the accommodation of the producers. Afford ample opportunities for the utilization of the products of his labor, and cease compelling him to sink his scanty earnings in the enormous profits of middlemen. The perishable products of the farm are introduced into cities for immediate consump- tion, and every obstacle which obstructs the ready access of the consumer to the producer should be removed, and munici- palities should abandon such sources of revenue. Thus may value be enhanced to the producer and diminished to the con- sumer. Quality will be improved and health promoted. 120 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. OBSTETRICS AND DISEASES OF WOMEN AND CHILDREN. ADDEESS IN OBSTETRICS AND DISEASES OF WOMEN AND CHILDREN, DELIVERED BEFORE THE AMERICAN MEDICAL ASSOCIATION AT PHILADELPHIA, JUNE 8, 1876. Mr. President and Gentlemen : The written law of this Association limits this address to the discussion of the ''advances and discoveries of the past year" in obstetric, gynecic, and paediatric medicine. However willing or coaipetent I might be to fill the meas- ure of this requirement, the time allowed me would necessa- rily preclude a critical examination of all the contributious to this department. Nor would this be desirable, since many of them are mere novelties of little or no value or hasty promul- gations of immatured opinions and illogical conclusions. The recent literature of this department of medicine may, not inaptly, be compared to a sheaf containing many heads of wheat ; some with each capsule filled with a perfectly devel- oped, matured, and ripened grain, rich in the elements essen- tial to its production in kind. Other heads contain light and shrivelled grains, the yield of an impoverished or ill-cultivated soil, which, while not wholly valueless, yet nevertheless are far below the proper standard in weight and measure, not unfit for ordinary consumption, but unworthy of preservation, and pro- gressively degenerating by reproduction. Lastly, other heads there are with empty capsules, destitute of a single fecundated ovum, containing nothing but chaff, mere abortions ab initio. To winnow out the chaff would, perhaps, be but a work of time, intelligently and assiduously employed ; but to glean from the entire mass only the perfect grains and to estimate the value of each demand a degree of accuracy only to be ESSA YS A NI) A DDRKSSKS. 1 2 1 acquired by ujroat experience an A DDIiHSSHS. 1 2;i wlicrc! tlu! mcinbrjiMcs iiic ('iitirc, and \\\v. licat! liuH dcw^crxlifl on tlic (iorvix without the intervention (jf the bag of waters, " and (!X'|)!Uidin<^ it, thcixihy piv^ssiiig as iiijurioii.sly iipoti it as if th(! liquor atnnii had cHcajXMl ;" to caso.s fotnphcatod witli prolapse of the funis; and to cases of partial placenta praevia. This operation is, perhaps, inadmissible in eases where the extent of dilatation has not reached two-fifths (one and five- eighths inches), but is an encouraging resource whether the head is above or within the brim or has descender! into the cavity of the pelvis, and is not less illustrative of the life- saving power of the instrument than of its value in shorten- ing the duration of labor. But while thus the capacity of the forceps as a tractor is being extended, its 'double-lever power is being discarded. Only recently Duncan, in an elaborate essay which has been commended by Keiller, Mac- douald, Simpson, Young, Bruce, and others, has, with his tisual vigor and directness, portrayed the dangers of the *' pendulum movement of the midwifery forceps," and in- sisted that it, like other honored relics of the past, should be dismissed from service. The fact cannot escape your observation that these innova- tions, born of thoughtful study, have emanated from men of large experience and unsurpassed dexterity, who have been favored with unusual advantages and a sound and intuitive judgment. Such advantages do not come to every accoucheur, but all can emulate their example and profit by their triumphs. Among the mechanical aids recently devised, Dr. Poullet has projected an apparatus denominated '' the sericeps," for which he claims advantages in certain cases of dystocia supe- rior to the ^^ steel, of Chamberleu." This new device is made of a seamless material, woven double, having the maximum of solidity. It consists, first, of a transverse baud intended to be spread around the fojtal head, its two extremities being connected by cords of silk laced through eyelets. These cords are loose when the band is being adjusted, and when drawn should close the transverse band 124 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. around the cranial ovoid along its suboccipito-malar circle. Second, of four ribbons inserted along the entire inferior bor- der of this band, and united at the other extremities, two by- two, forming two handles, by which traction is made. The apparatus is adjusted by means of three arms introduced be- tween the uterus and foetal head, superposed one upon the other, in the sheaths formed by the ribbons, and when car- ried up to the promontory of the sacrum are separated, the posterior branch remaining in position, and " the other two by a movement of rotation are carried along the sides of the head until they meet in front above the arch of the pubis,, when the cords are drawn, the mental " arms removed, and extraction begun by traction upon the ribbon handles. If the circle has been placed sufficiently high upon the ovoid, it grasps a zone of smaller diameters than the central, so that the material being inelastic when traction is made, " it cannot descend until the cranial ovoid is drawn before it." If carried up to the chin or neck of the child, the circle is closed and gentle traction upon the ribbon handles adjusts the band to the cranial ovoid. Dr. Poullet claims ''that in all cases requiring energetic traction, particularly in the superior strait," this instru- ment will diminish the mortality of children while better protecting the soft parts of the mother, and insists that its superiority over the forceps consists in the inappreciable vol- ume added to the child's head ; its easy application to cases of long and painful labor ; the pliability of the ribbons, which free the soft parts from violent pressure ; the absence of local- ized compression of the brain and of any imprint upon the head ; its affording means of prehension without lateral pressure; the firmness of the grasp, which never slips; the increased range permitted to the movements of rotation ; and its harmlessness, however long permitted to remain in posi- tion, thus in all of its actions resembling " physiological labor." It is also more easily and certainly applied in the rare cases of decapitation, affords greater opportunity for the ESSA YS A NI) A I) l> It ICSSES. ^ 25 operation of perforation, iuid (^onlriltiilcs v;ilii;il)l(! aid in cvac- uatinii; tlu; craniid cavity after perforation. The inventor refers to Manricean'H idea of a sort rtf .sling or bandage, vvliieii wan nev(!r a|)j)lied; to Arn:;nid'.s de^sorip- tion of a eapof thread to he adjiist(;(l to the h(,'ad aft(!r deeapi- tation; and to Mead's Jiandle or golf of .soft material, to be inserted with a whalebone between the chin and chest, whioh Smellio tried to use, but finally abandoned; and coneludo.s his review with the assertion '' that at the present day there exists no pb'able means capable of taking hold of the head when engaged in the pelvis and of exercising upon it sufficient traction to complete labor." The merit and originality of this invention belong to an American physician. As long ago as 1851 Dr. John Evans, of Chicago, published a description of his " Obstetrical Ex- tractor," and he had previously reported in the Transactions of this Association for 1850 five cases in which he had suc- cessfully applied the apparatus. Subsequently, in 1852, he published another series of twelve cases, some of which were in consultation with Prof. N. S. Davis. Nor is this all. The descriptions of the two inventions — one in the English, the other in the Fi'ench language — are so nearly identical that it is not easy to believe the latter could have been written without previous knowledge and examina- tion of the former ; yet the latter was submitted to the Sur- gical Society of Lyons and referred to a committee of distin- guished physicians as an original description of a new instru- ment. The genius of our French inventor has found further opportunity for development in an attempt to utilize and regulate mechanical traction, by adapting the principle of the " windlass or capstan " to extraction, thus substituting, it is claimed, ^' a sustained and graduated mechanical force for the irregular muscular efforts of the operator." Dr. Poullet con- cedes the original idea to his compeer, Joulin, claiming only to have transferred the point of support from the perineum 126 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. to the tuber ischii, which, he maiutaius, will bear the pressure of the traction force without iujury. The inventor claims to have realized the following condi- tions: " True and uniformly sustained traction," by making the pelvis of the woman the point of support. Greater opportunity for making traction " in the various directions useful iu the differeut stages of labor." Increased facility for the application of force without re- straining the movements and position of the lower limbs. Obtaining support from the ischii without pain and with- out interfering with the use of the cords or " forceps or de- livery by the hand," These conditions, the author claims, present advantages superior to Chassagny's apparatus, which derived its point of support from the knees; to Tarnier's ^'tackle and pul- ley," which has for its point of resistance a neighboring plauk ; to Hamon's apparatus, which is supported by two crutches resting on the genito-crural folds of the patient ; to Pros's invention, in which the point of resistance " was a wooden frame placed under the seat of the patient ;" or to Joulin's ' ' aid-forceps," which rest upon the soft parts of the perineum. Its practical merits cannot, however, be estab- lished by its comparative advantages over all previous devices to multiply force. It is questionable whether such multipliers of force can be utilized in dragging a foetus through the bony channel without serious injury to both mother aud child or be made a substitute for the traction and compression powers of the forceps. In such case the power driving the foetal head downward and the power dragging it forward through the pelvic cavity, together with the counter-force acting upon the ischial tuber- osities, would be expended upon the framework of the maternal passage, for the true pelvis would present, at its superior strait or within its cavity, the obstacle to delivery, and, at the same time, at the termini of the transverse and shortest diameter of the outlet, the points of counter-resistance would. hSSA VS AND AnnnESSKS. ]27 no(!0,s8arily, he alwayn equal, an<], flioiif>;li aetinj^ in oj)p(iHito directions — tlie lir.st through the we(l}^(!-lik(! power ol'th*! fo-tal head and the latter iij)on the tiihiT iH(!hii, tran.srnitted ahnig the ischial rami — would he expended upon the pelvic nyu- chondroscH, |)erlia|).s not often di.stiiroinplic(l, must be free from and independent of any counter-pressure upon the pelvis of the mother. The discussion on the employment of perchloride of iron in post-partum hemorrhage has vindicated its value as a styp- tic and established its efficacy in those emergencies in which all things else seem to fail; but the fact remains undisturbed that complete and persistent uterine contraction is the one thing which assures haemostasis. Closely allied to this subject is the operation of transfusion. The recent successful employment of milk by Prof. T. G. Thomas, while it presents nothing new either in surgical exe- cution or in the nature or preparation of the fluid employed, is yet in its mere success a contribution to science, and adds assurance of the ultimate acceptance of the procedure as an imperative recourse in needful cases. The transfusion of milk was first successfully accomplished by Hodder in 1850, in two or three cases of cholera-collapse. Previously, however, Donne had injected milk into the veins of dogs and rabbits without injury to the animals; and sub- sequently (1854) Herapath, following Richardson's previously suggested treatment of cholera-collapse '^ by the artificial pro- duction of peritoneal or cellular dropsy," advocated injections of milk or of milk and water into the peritoneal cavity, cellular tissue, or venous system in similar conditions. Waggstaffe, in 1872, made two unsuccessful attempts — one with con- densed milk in a case of " extensive hemorrhage " following 128 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. amputation of both legs below the knee, the other with con- densed milk and defibrinated blood ; and Howe's experiment with goat's milk, in 1874, in a case of tubercular disease, proved equally unavailiug. As yet, the elevation of temperature, which is one of the most constant and perhaps the most important phenomenon following transfusion, has not been explained. In Wagg- staffe's case it rose 2.8° in three hours (taken in the vagina), and in Thomas's case it rose in one hour to 104°. This py- rexia has been attributed to an extra absorption of the pro- ducts of tissue-change; to absorption of pus from the wound; to accumulation of blood in the portal system ; to the intro- duction of a different sort of blood or of a fluid differing in nature and density ; to the destruction of the constituents of the blood, and to molecular disturbance ; but none of these hypotheses has been adopted. Fr^se concluded from his experiments that the transfusion of a small quantity of blood would not produce an appreci- able amount of fever; but that a large quantity, if preceded by bleeding, was always succeeded by fever. Albert and Strieker transfused into healthy animals their own blood by letting it flow directly from the femoral artery into the fem- oral vein of the same side, and each time fever resulted. Billroth repeated these experiments, but failed to obtain the same results. Leibrecht concludes, from similar experiments recently repeated, that an elevation of temperature, repre- sented by 2° Centigrade, may result from the simple transfu- sion of blood, and fever, if occurring at all, will always occur within three hours after the completion of the operation. In Hiitter's cases of arterial transfusion with defibrinated human blood, and in Ewald's cases with the defibrinated blood of per- sons suffering from bronchitis, fever ensued. Fever resulted in all of the cases of Hasse and Thurn, who employed defi- brinated lamb's blood. Kuster had no unpleasant symptoms with human defibrinated blood, but fever and other unpleasant phenomena in a case in which lamb's blood was used. Nicholas ESSAYS AND A DIHIHSSKS. ] 2fi Diiranty'H experirncntH on anirnalH with fvtrjlcd Mfjod were entirely HiitisfjuMoi'y. The ni.searehcH of Ponfir;l< and I/itu]r>iH seem to h'.ivc; established the- ,\ abH()lnt(;ly Uvw (Voiii ('|)i(lciMi(! |)r(;v;ilonc(;, .'iiui tli;i(, it Ii:ih no (iauHiil rchilioii wliatsocver citlKsr with (TyHijX'hiH or wrarlet fever. Tims, on the very tl)reHhol(l of our HtiidicH we are confronted with antagonism of facts and (led net ions, and men of honest eonviction find themselves arrayed in open contro- versy. The recognition of th(^ morhid (;ntities which are severally pecnliar to pnerperality, and their differentiation by distinct and characteristic! symptoms, has extended and enlarged the resources of preventive and curative medicine; but the rela- tion of the lesions to the parturient womb remains obscured by the uncertainties of conjecture and hypothesis. It was long ago admitted that parturition, though a physiological process, was necessarily one of violence. Van Swieten and Willis, two centuries ago, and Eisenmann, in 1887, regarded puerperal fever as '' wound-fever ; " then followed the theories of Cruveilhier, Simpson, and others, who traced its analogy \jO surgical fever ; then a further advance when phlebitis and lymphangitis were first recognized; then, again, a grander progress when the pyemic and septicsemic processes were elu- cidated and the doctrines of thrombosis and embolism were promulgated by Virehow. To these have been added the investigations into the nature and intensity of septic poisons ; the theory of parasitic disease ; and the researches of Sander- son *' on the infective product of all acute suppurative inflam- mations." Now all have come with Buhl, Yirchow, Kolb, and others to regard the traumatism of the inner uterine sur- face, the unavoidable lesions of continuity in the generative tract, and thrombosis of uterine sinuses as foci of disease. The recent investigations of Leopold and Championniere into the histological anatomy of the lymphatics of the uterus and its appendages furnish additional opportunities for patho- logical research, and enable us to trace through continuous channels the extension and propagation of disease from the original foci and the infection of parts far removed from the primary seat. So numerous are the lymphatics of the uterus, 132 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. and ramifying as they do throughout the parenchyma, the subserous tissue, and mucous lining, they cannot be omitted from the study of the life and pathology of the organ. '^ In gravid uterus," says Cruikshank, ''the trunks of the hypo- gastric absorbents are as large as a goose-quill, and the ves- sels themselves so numerous that when injected with quick- silver one would have been almost tempted to suppose the uterus consisted of absorbents only." In view of the importance of these recent researches I may be pardoned for quoting the following summary of the results of Leopold's investigations: " The lymphatics of the raucous membrane consist of lymph-spaces, representing the interstices of the minute con- nective-tissue framework, along the bundles of which are endothelia. The membrane of the glands is, in the deeper layers, a fine layer of delicate connective-tissue bundles, whose endothelia are applied externally; nearer the surface it is a sheath, composed only of " platiform cells." The bloodves- sels, from the finest capillaries, possess a number of fine endo- thelial sheaths. The connective-tissue framework stands in direct communication with both kinds of sheaths ; therefore, both glands and bloodvessels pass directly through the lymph- cavities, separated from the latter only by their endothelial sheaths formed of the connective-tissue trabeculse. At the boundary of the muscular layer the lymph-spaces pass for a short distance, deeper in woman than in animals, into the funnel-shaped excavations between the muscle-bundles, and gradually narrow down to the intermuscular lymph-vessels and tracks. " The muscularis contains both lymph- vessels and spaces, the walls of which are the fine intermuscular connective tis- sue. The former are lined by fine endothelial lamellae, pre- senting openings and gaps here and there; the latter are lined by delicate cell-plates. In the human uterus the lymph- vessels are very much entangled by the peculiar arrangement of the muscularis ; they are most commonly abundantly developed KSSA YS A Nl> A DDRESSKN. ] .'i.'i ill tlio oxl(Tii;il layer and in tlu; oIIkt laycrrn, CHpccially in tiic vicinity of (lie larger bioodvoHHcls, and, ax in animals, in (;()iin(!<-ti()n with tiie snhscrosa; vvitii the mueoHa the f!on- nec-tion is more by Iyin})h-sj>ue(!H. Tiicy (;oll<'ct in the exter- nal layer, especially at the sides of the; uterus, in the form of lar^e eolleetinij^-ttihes whieh ])osse.ss valves. Th(; lyrnph- 8pa(!es are webbed around the fascieidi of the larger musele- bundles and pass into the lymph-vessels, and in woman are in direct eoniniunieatiou witii the sj)aceH of the mucous mem- brane. The larger collecting-tubes and larger bloodvessels are in immediate proximity; the other lymph- vessels, for certain distances, are accompanied by bloodvessels, and the lymph-spaces and fissures are always traversed by smaller vessels. '' Beneath the serosa only lymph-vessels are found lying in the connective tissue and forming large, entangled, tense networks, possessing large ampullse, radiating points, con- strictions, valves, contractions, and dilatations, and like a network enclose the entire uterus, forming upon the anterior and posterior surfaces a number of small, minutely twisted nets, with thin and thick canals, and numberless ramifica- tions with branches, which, during pregnancy, may be dem- onstrated as far as and into the fimbriae of the tubes, and other branches communicating, where the serosa is firmly adherent to the uterus, with the subjacent lymphatics of the muscularis, while the superficial vessels of the loosely at- tached serosa enter directly into the larger lymph-tubes ; so that from the periphery of the uterus the lymph-current is through the muscular vessels to the tubes of the parame- trium, while from the sparse vessels it is direct to the trunks. '' From the lymph-spaces of the mucous membrane the lymph passes through the mucous-membrane funnels into the lymph-fissures and vessels of the muscularis, is here webbed around all bundles and fasciculi as far as the serosa, and then unite from all sides in the large collecting-trunks, which, in the vicinity of large bloodvessels, euter the ligameutie latte." 134 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. Champiouuiere has shown the existence of networks of lymphatics above the lateral vaginal cul-de-sac and in the lax cellular tissue which environs the neck, and has also shown the existence of vessels, remarkable for their number and dimensions, climbing up alongside of the uterus and reaching the broad ligament. He has further pointed out the arrangement of the lymphatics in the uterine tissue and broad ligaments in ampullae, upon the walls of which numer- ous smaller vessels open, and which sometimes are dilated into purulent cavities. He especially insists upon the inti- mate relation of the uterine lymphatics with the peritoneum; the annexes; with the cellular tissue on the lateral portions of the neck, the body, the iliac fossse, and the lumbar region. He has shown the presence of glands in the vicinity of the neck and on the side and behind it ; above the lateral vagi- nal culs-de-sac ; in the broad ligaments ; at the level of the superior strait, and in the surrounding tissues as far as the peripheiy of the pelvis. Those above the lateral culs-de-sac extend in a chain of small glands to the lateral walls of the pelvis. In those at the level of the superior strait certain uterine lymphatics empty, and from them vessels ascend upon the psoas muscle and reach the glands on the side of the ver- tebral column and in the lumbar region. It is, however, impossible to study the anatomy of the lymphatic system of the uterus and its appendages completely without occupying one's self with pathology, " which fur- nishes veritable methods" of demonstration. Since the time of Cruveilhier lymph-vessel inflammation has been looked upon as a frequent accompaniment of puerperal diseases ; but not until Virchow promulgated the doctrine of lymph-throm- bosis did pathology advance beyond the view that inflamma- tion of the vessels was either a constant or necessary part of the morbid changes, and that the extension and propagation of disease were by continuity of surface or by contiguity of affected parts, or by some occult metastatic process. Even previously attention had been (Hecker, Buhl) directed to the /';s'.s'.'i K,s' ,i.v/> AnniU'jssh's. ];}5 condition, in which lymph-voHHoIs, diHtant from the «it A l> I) It HSSES. \ .'} 7 parts of the wonih to tlm broad ligamentH anfl Ai)i)i'j':ssi':s. \.\:>, of oxy\i^v.\\ from (liiniiinlion of Miiisciilnr action; and the various inciidcntal iktvoiih |)li(;nnincna wliidi ho frc^jiiently conipliciitc tli(; jx-riod of nt(!ro-}rc.statioii. All tlics*;, aciting togetlier in the tnrhidont union of untoward fivcnts, fMjIminate in convulsions. Jiut perhaps the most important contribution ree(!ntly made to the istudy of the nature of puerperal cclam[)sia eonsists in the recognition of the febrile phenomena so uniformly asso- ciated with the convulsive seizures. Quincke was the first to observe the elevation of tempera- ture in puerperal eclampsia ; but to Bournoville we are in- debted for the first series of systematic observations. From carefully recorded thermometric observations in seventeen cases, including four fatal cases, he deduces the following conclusions: 1. '^ During the eclampsic state the temperature is raised from the outset of the attack to its termination. 2. '^ In the intervals of the attacks the temperature re- mains elevated, and, at the moment of the convulsions, a slight ascension takes place. 3. '' If the eclampsic condition is about to terminate in death, the temperature continues to augment and reaches a very elevated figure; if, on the contrary, the attacks diminish and the coma ceases in a definite manner, the temperature lowers progressively and returns to the normal standard." In June, 1875, M. Dieude published four new observa- tions, two of which confirmed the opinions of Bourneville; the others invalidated in part the proposition that the tem- perature was elevated in eclampsia, and incidentally the proposition that in the intervals it was maintained at a high degree and slightly elevated at the time of the convulsions. In December last Herbart published three additional cases ; a single observation has been made by Richardson and two by myself, making in all twenty-seven cases. With the ex- ception of the two cases, before referred to, the observations confirmed the conclusions deduced by Bourneville ; of these 144 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. twenty-five cases seven died. A single death occurred with a temperature as low as 102.4° F. ; in the other six cases the highest elevations ranged from 104° to 109.5° F. Among the recoveries the temperature rose in one case to 105.8°, and in another to 106°. Therefore, the maximum of safety can- not be established ; but in all tlie fatal cases the temperature remained elevated, and, when lessened, recovery followed. No death occurred with a temperature below 102.4°, and no recovery took place with a temperature above 106°. The thermometric curve was not uniform, because of the altera- tions produced by the effect of the therapeutic agents. These results present important indications in regard to the treatment and prognosis in cases of puerperal eclampsia. The value of remedies may be determined by the modifications of the temperature, and their inutility may be established by its progressive elevation. The fever, be it a factor of causation or a coincident phenomenon of the convulsive environment, is manifestly an element of danger. This inference is cor- roborated by the varying successes of the different therapeutic agents which have from time to time been employed in the treatment, and which owe their efficacy to their antipyretic qualities, or rather to their power to abstract body-heat. Venesection, which at one time was regarded as the " sheet- anchor" of hope and even now has many advocates, not only diminishes the mass of blood, lessens arterial tension, and re- lieves blood-pressure, but produces rapid falling of the tem- perature in the well as in the sick. This effect may be tran- sitory and speedily followed by increased arterial tension and an elevation of temperature, but the fever-curve of eclampsia exhibits marked depression after the abstraction of blood. In Richardson's case the temperature fell from 108 F. ° to 102° after venesection, but the tenseness of the jugular veins and unconsciousness continuing a second abstraction of blood, with the application of an iced collar to the neck, established convalescence. In Herbart's case the abstraction of twenty ounces of blood was followed by an immediate fall of 1°, and l'J,S,SA YS AND AD DRESSES. 146 in i\w live sii('(',('(;(liii<:r- nade of the immorlal spirit ; to rnitigato the; |ianfrs and corn- bat the ravages of disease ; to alleviate the suffering and solaee the sorrows of the .'ifTlietod ; to restore tf) health those stricken with disease; to prolong the lives of confirmed invalids and to free the agony of dcatii froirj bodily pain, and your path, if rightly followed, will be ijlninined by nnfctlcred truth and love unfeigned. You must be imbued with the greatness and responsibility of your mission, and your obligations are the more deep and endurii g, because your own conscience must be the tribunal to adju Ige the penalties of ignorance and neg- lect. You cannot apj.ease the conscience with the vain dog- mas that the responsibility of misguided judgment and mis- applied resource ceases with the individual conviction of right or that a life sacrificed in the line of duty is no wrong. This question of right or wrong cannot be submitted to the arbit- rament of your own conscience nor dismissed with the com- placent declaration of your own opinion of right. The tri- bunal of justice is at the bar of eternity. Health is the priceless jewel in the casket of life, and life is the birthright of existence. To your care and skill these will be committed, and, in medicine, ^' confessedly the most difficult and intricate of the sciences," knowledge is not intu- itive. It comes only to the earnest and conscientious seeker, the diligent and unremitting student, the careful and pains- taking investigator. The charlatan may acquire by observa- tion and experience familiarity with the effects of his nostrum or alleged specific as the grave-digger may acquire expertness and dexterity with his tools. In no trade will mankind rely upon the skill of an untaught workman. In the ordinary avocations of life, in the transactions of business, in the acqui- sition of wealth, and in the attainment of position, the pur- pose, end, or aim sought demands fixedness of purpose, sta- bility and directness of effort, concentration of mind, and the application of every available resource. To these qualities, in the diseharo;e of the duties to which vou have to-night 150 ESSAYS AND ADBBESSES. beeu betrothed, you should add the highest ideal of personal honor and the most sensitive perception of right and wrong, with the quickening influences of a conscience keenly alive to the obligations of Christian philanthropy. You have been commissioned to ''go heal the sick." Ad- minister the functions of your office with devotion, steadiness, and humanity. " Unite tenderness with firmness, condescen- sion with authority, that you may inspire your patients with gratitude, respect, and confidence." Bear in silence your cares, with dignity your responsibility, with humility your disap- pointments, and with becoming indifference that ingratitude which you will frequently find is the only requital for ardu- ous and self-sacrificing services. As ministers of hope and comfort you must not draw too sharp a line between health and disease. So long as disease afflicts the human family, so long will there exist antagonism between health and disease, and from the very nature of the circumstances and varying conditions of the faculty of reason as exhibited in different individuals, there must exist antag- onism between science and ignorance. Disease begets caprice, fosters discontent, exaggerates eccentricities, clouds the mind, perverts the reason, and masks the j udgment. The charlatan, often with consummate tact and adroitness, appeals to the in- valid with faculties thus affected, and the marvel is not that so many yield to the captivating promises of speedy relief, but that so many escape the injurious and attractive appliances which injure their health and not infrequently destroy their lives. As conscientious arbiters you must determine the sig- nificance of the symptoms, be they real or imaginary, and apply the remedy, be it the comforting assurance of harmless- ness or the application of appropriate agents. Few are will- ing to accept the confident assurance of returning health with- out the employment of remedies, and fewer still will bear with patience the painful processes of disease while the physician adjures remedies and fosters confidence with verbal assurances. The incompetent will strike at random with a multitude of ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. 151 agenJH mikI amcxvA] i\mr it^iioraiico iiriflcr tlu; ncfiidfrntal adap- tation of (Ikmi" r(»nmil;r. Some will he iiiipi'isscl with an assinncd dcivotion; otlusrs with a <:;i'()t('S(jn(;n(!.sH of rnannf;r ; anotlier will be won by winninfr sniilcis and a f^rafoful addrfHH; but, after all, tho surest road to siuicess will b(3 thron;rh the diligent a('(|iiisition of knowledge and the faithful discharge of responsible duties. Hold inviolate the secrets of the siek-chamber. As the trusted friend and confidant, the foibles, frailties, and faults of human nature, the privacies of domestic life, the infirmi- ties of temper, and the defects of character will be intrusted to your keeping. Now that I have delivered to you the last injunction with which your alma mater charged me, come with me into the open field of labor, that I may exhibit to you the rugged path of duty and picture some of the scenes of coming trials and responsibilities. Go with me to the chamber of the dying father. He has wealth and position and is surrounded by all the comforts of life ; his home is amidst admiring friends who delight to honor him and to listen to his council. His humanity and benevo- lence have gladdened many sorrowing hearts. No one in need ever appealed in vain to his charity, and now, in the zenith of his career, in the pride of his manhood, he is stricken down with disease, and his wasting frame and declining strength mark its fearful progress and portend a speedy dissolution. Remedy after remedy has failed. The faithful physician stands firmly at his post of duty ; there is no lack of resource, no stinting of means, no indirectness of purpose, no frivolous pretext to escape responsibility, no unwillingness to confess a failure. He is prompt in conclusion, ready in expedient, de- cisive in application, but it all avails uothiug. That doubt, which so often stimulates to renewed effort and lingers long as a wise and faithful counsellor, has yielded to the inexora- ble reality. The children, who as duty called them had gone forth into the world, have been summoned back to the 152 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. homestead. The legal adviser has transacted his last official duty and departed; the beloved pastor has administered the final consolations of religion, and yet the dying man, still clinging to life, appeals with hope for relief and safety to his medical attendant. The wife, who has so tenderly nursed him and with so much sympathy and anxiety watched over him by day and night, true to her ^vomanly nature and affection, has, until now, failed to realize his hopeless condition, and, now, stricken with grief, crushed beneath the contemplation of the hour, leans upon his arm for help, assistance, courage, and hope. The daughter, whose young bosom has known no sorrow, whose joyous life has been one uninterrupted scene of pleasure, to whom the pallor of death and the grief of the death-chamber have been strangers, now subdued with terror and affliction, comes, with her bosom heaving with sorrow and her heart aching with anguish, and implores him, as only a daughter can, to arrest the direful malady and restore to health the sinking man; and the stalwart son, who has stood unmoved amidst the carnage and havoc of contending armies, now, in broken accents, inquires if the father must die ? Sym- pathizing friends stand near, the man of God still awaits the departure of the spirit, all, all are bowed in grief ; but in all that company there is one unmoved by the scene around, one whose emotions must not be seen, whose trembling voice must not lose its tone, whose courage must not falter, whose self- possession must not yield under the responsibilities of the hour. To him alone the sick man appeals for aid ; on his skill alone the sorrowing friends and relatives base all hope. Experience has taught him that life, though trembling on the brink of the grave, may be rescued, and he spares no effort, exhausts every resource, in the faithful discharge of his duty, until the last faint glimmer of life has gone and the father lies motionless and silent in death. ISTow vary the scene. It is the young girl just budding into womanhood that is stretched upon the bed of sickness. She has been reared in luxury. Every whim has been ESSA YS AND A DDItHSSES. \ 53 indulged, (^vc^iy cji price fostered. She is devoted to fanhion, to the vanities and iTivolitios of life, has hfcii jx'ttfd, fourtfd, H|)oil(Hl — is wayward, sclf-willfd, and |)(;rvcrsf. Tiie veiier- uble brother, who has wat<'hf'(l over her from infancy and so often ministered to her n^licf, is nciithor oh(;ycd nor respected, and now, after all the precinrsory symptoms — the first rnut- terings of the coming storm have been unheeded and neg- lected — the disease has gained the mastery. The anxious mother and indulgent father, no longer willing to bear the responsibility, hastily call the family physician. The way- ward girl — though prostrated by disease and its accompanying and agonizing pains — is peevish, irritable, impatient of re- straint, cannot bear her sufferings with becoming composure, and will not submit to the measures deemed conducive to her comfort and demanded by every consideration of duty. Neither the gentle wooings of an affectionate mother, the stern will of an indulgent father, now aroused to the exi- gencies of the occasion, nor the patient forbearance of the venerable brother can infuse into her stubborn nature a proper appreciation of the obligations resting upon her nor impress her feverish intellect with the impending peril. Through many weary days and nights he watched by her side ; but not until the failing powers of life and the wasted physique have reduced her to helplessness, when resistance yields to necessity and the terrors of eternity appal her, will she listen to his counsel and submit to his discipline. Thus, conquered by her fears, she is brought to the full realization of her dependent and perilous condition, and then, and then only, is she moved to acknowledge her error and to express her gratitude. But with restored health and returning vigor the same inflexible will, the same profligate demands upon her constitution, the same disregard of the laws of nature and of health, the same love of self-indulgence and gratification of the tastes and caprices of her frail nature recur with all their original embarrassments. Neither a sense of duty to hereelf nor the entreaties of the loved ones at home, the warniuirs of 1 54 ESSA YS AND ADDBESSES. the doctor, nor the progressive inroads of disease can divert her from the pursuit of her pleasures and their attending evils. Again the picture is changed. That generous and gifted youDg man, whose noble impulses, manly bearing, exemplary habits, and powers of mind have made him conspicuous among his comrades and gave promise of so brilliant a future, to-day has partaken of the tempting cup at the invitation of a friend ; to-morrow he repeats it to warm his chilled body ; at another time to correct the opposite condition ; again, to obviate the dangers from some indiscretion in diet and then to stimulate his desponding spirits. It soon comes to satisfy every need, however contrary and opposite. It is the pan- acea for all bodily infirmities and all mental disturbances. It arrests disease, invigorates the body, solaces disappointment, drives away dull care, stimulates the imagination, revives the flagging sensibilities, and, like sleep, " is wearied nature's sweet restorer. " These are its beauties and its charms. What are its vices, its evil consequences ? Shall I point you to the criminal records, the prisoner's cell ? No, there is no need of that ; neither is there that I should tell you those noble impulses are all transformed into brutal passions ; that that manly mien is sadly changed, and that those high aspirations have been changed into bitter despair — all these and many more evidences of its sad effects and devastating influences you can witness any day in the hovels of the poor, in the haunts of the wicked, and in the gilded saloons of our gay and fashionable city. For its accompanying ailments he seeks our counsel, but refuses our advice. He appeals for a substitute to slake his debased thirst and to appease his crav- ings, and scorns the science which affords no protection from the pains of his self-indulgence — no immunity from the inev- itable consequences of his evil tastes and passions. The trem- bling hand, the faltering voice, the bloated form, the declining health, the unsteady gait, the sleepless nights, the enfeebled intellect are with him the evidences of his needs, not the /':,SSA VS AND ADDRESfSKS. 155 consequejKH'H of his vice, aiiofa- tions. At last the Hhock, so long delayed, of wliidi lu; lia.s boon HO ofh^i iulmonislicd, (H)ni('H, nnd tlie tdriljlc spcdarlo is presented ol" a luitnan l)('iiiy, tinol)H(!i'V('(l and unlidcdcd save by tli(* aflliftod few. How many, revelling in lunltli, engrossed in the acqui- sition of wealth or drinking dec]) of the j)lf'asnres and ^.^aieties of society, have forgotten that health and life may he sacri- ficed by some trivial indiscretion. How many scorn rather than accept the admonitions of antecedent ailments — deride rather than applaud the unselfish suggestions of the profes- sion — denounce rather than obey the established laws of health — reject rather than follow advice which imposes re- straint upon the gratification of tastes and which prescribes a limit to the indulgences and excesses of life. Health, un- conscious [)f its frail and uncertain tenure, laughs at medicine, acquiring assurance in its temporary immunity, sneers at science, and in its joy and pleasure grows fearless of disease. Who knows how soon the scourge may come ? To-morrow's mail may bring the news of some terrible pestilence decimating a neighboring city. As it advances step by step, spreading from city to village, from village to hamlet, from hamlet to town, it drives before it multitudes of people, stricken \^■^th terror and appalled at its fatality ; and in that moving and frightened throng you will see clergymen and lawyers, authors and artists, merchants and tradesmen, all professions and em- ployments save one — the physician ; he is not there — bis duty is in the midst of the pestilence, not in the throng fleeing be- fore it. When it reaches our city, comes directly to our liomes, how soon the scene will change. In the midst of the suffer- ing, pestilence, and death our profession becomes pre-emi- nently the friend of mankind. The valiant in health will then be suppliants for protection — the brave in security will cower before the dreaded disease, and the physician then achieves the true dignity of his mission — the glorious sub- limity of his office. Stop a moment here by the wayside, at the home of the 158 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. widowed mother and of these orphan children. A profligate father and a brutal husband has squandered her patrimony, and the law, in satisfaction of its just demands, has reduced her to penury and want. To feed and clothe these little chil- dren — to live an honest and virtuous life — she has yielded to inexorable necessity, taxed her feeble strength beyond its power, and now, exhausted and worn, is laid upon the bed of sickness. No pecuniary consideration moves the medical man to minister to her wants. Charity, benevolence, duty, are the impulses which prompt him. Noble profession ! How pure and unselfish its aims; " the servant of the min- istry; the handmaid of religion. He who would become a true physician, in the elevated and comprehensive significa- tion of the term, must surely attain to the great dignity of a Christian hero ; for the path that leads to this high goal is througfh self-denial and an unreserved devotion to the care of the sick." Ghouls, harpies, and vampires may wear his title and usurp his place even as the false prophet " steals the livery of heaven to serve the devil in ; " but they feast upon the credulity of the ignorant only. They are never found in the haunts of poverty, speaking words of comfort and admin- istering to the bodily needs of those stricken with disease. The nobility of our profession recognizes no nationality, no creed, no condition of life. It is founded on the broad basis of Christian philanthropy. It unfurls its banner and marches to the fulfilment of its mission of love and mercy, heedless of reward — unmindful of everything but duty. It is neither swayed by the formalities of society nor dismayed by the con- vulsions of popular sentiment. A few words more and I am done — do not forget that you are only at the threshold of your profession — would you be successful, you must continue unceasingly to study; would you achieve fame, study must be your watchword ; would you be worthy of the high calling you have chosen, study must fill your every moment. In the wide domain of useful and dig- nified employments there is none — no, not one — in which the ESSAYS AND ADDllESSICS. 159 Held iKifoic the Hlii(](!nt i.s ho broad, ho over oxtendin^r in its liorizoii. JOreot Cor yoiir.sclC an ideal of aeliievcment and steadily march toward it, ho Hhalj it he that vve whf) hen; to- night wehiorne you at IhegatcHoF the temple will in thr; future be among your proudest admirers when you nhall have rearihed that distinction in its council whi<'h yon will then have de- served. And now, with heartfelt wishes for your hapj)ine8S and success, I bid you God-speed. EULOGY DELIVERED BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE MEDICAL SOCIETY OF THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, FEBRUARY 14, 1877. Gentlemen : It becomes my painful duty to announce to you the death of one of our most distuiguished members. Dr. William Beverly Drinkard died at his residence in this city on the morning of the 13th instant, after a brief but painful illness. Under ordinary circumstances I might be content with this simple official announcement; but as one of those who were 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 asso- ciate. He was distinguished, as a man, for his uniform court- esy, unswerving integrity, and honorable bearing ; a« a phy- sician, for his learning, his skill and devotion to duty ; and as a brother practitioner, 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 unmaulv thoucrht. 160 ^ ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. As lie lived, so he died. That courtesy and punctilio which characterized his demeanor toward everyone ; that firm and heroic will which had so pre-eminently distinguished his career from the begluulug of his professional studies, and those high social and iatellectual qualities which had surrounded him with so many friends, never forsook him, and never (once) yielded under the painfid suffering which terminated in death. But, perhaps, I can better illustrate his heroism by a narra- tion of some of the incidents of his sickness and death. From the commencement of his illness 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 understood 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 favor- able issue. During 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 temperature, and, returning the instrument to me, remarked, '^A primary eleva- tion of 0.8°." 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 observation before repeating the draught. Dur- ino- the early part of this scene he invited attention to his most distressing symptoms, and several times recalled the suggestion of Juergensen in regard to the management 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 appreciation of an unfavorable result. At that time he com- municated his wish to have an interview with a friend then absent from the city, and gave explicit directions how to reach the gentleman by telegraph, but added if it could be safely deferred until the next day he was content, but that KSSA VS AND AD D It h'SSKS. ] (; 1 it mtiHt not he too long delayed ; and then, .scicining to fear the opportunity might not occur, began to state the purposes of tlu! c(>nf('r(!nf!(! desired, (^casing only when warned of the danger of fatigue. Several times during tlie following night and succeeding day he inquired why the friend had not ar- rived; and when finally informed that he could not reach the city before 6 A.M. Tuesday, he seemed to dismiss the subject. Early Monday morning, in response to the inquiry of a rela- tive who had just returned to his room, he said, with his accustomed suavity of manner and usual precision of lan- guage, " I am better. The night was one of intense suffer- ing. I am not, however, out of danger." The hope proved delusive. Soon the aggravation of the symptoms denoted ex- tension of disease. Thenceforward until the end there was unabated suffering and increasing exhaustion. AVhen the hour of 6 Tuesday morning had come he re- minded 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 intrust to you what I Avished to have said to ." Thus he began, and with marked deliberation, calmness, and clearness he communicated his requests. 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-by he said: '^ Mother, next to the immediate family hold these friends who have been with me during my illness forever in affectionate remembrance." Next he called his sister 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 sud- denly turned toward a brother presenting the infant nephew, 11 162 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. aud 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 with him during his illness, ren- dering 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 always been faithful to me. I do not wish to die, but it is so," and drawing her to him kissed her and bade her, too, a final good-by. He alone passed through this trying and affecting 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 anyone had been omitted, he asked for Dr. Coues, the companion of his boyhood and firm friend of his matured years; and to him, when parting, he said, '' Present my compliments and regards to Mrs. Coues." Subsequently he inquired for the family, and when told they were in the adjoining room he bade me tell them to '' remain there and be at his bedside when he died." Later still he offered recognition to a valuable 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 lin- gered on ; when suddenly, seeming to repossess himself, he exclaimed, " Au revoir," and died, surrounded by his family and friends. ESSAYS y\NI) A DDIih'S.Sh'S. 163 THE COLUMBIA HOSPITAL AND LYING-IN ASYLUM. THE COLUMBIA HOSPITAL AND LYING-IN ASYLUM, A GOVERNMENT INSTITUTION : ITS PAST AND PRESENT MANAGEMENT. 1877. TiTE Act to " incorporate the Women's Hospital Associa- tion of the District of Columbia" was passed by Congress and approved June 1, 1866. The following are the more important provisions of this Act: That the object of the Association hereby incorporated " is to found in the city of Washington a hospital and dispensary for the treatment of diseases peculiar to women and a lying-in asylum, in which those unable to pay therefor shall be fur- nished with board, lodging, medicine, and medical attendance gratuitously, and to that end full powers are hereby conferred on the Association." (Sec. 5.) That the " affairs of said corporation shall be under the control and management of a board of twelve directors (con- sisting in the beginning of the first twelve of the incorpo- rators named in the Act) or such further number as the duties of the incorporation may require." (Sec. 3.) That said corporation shall have " power to accept, pur- chase, receive conveyances of and hold property, either per- sonal or real, to an amount necessary for the full accommo- dation, convenience, and support of the institution and those participating in its benefits." (Sec. 6.) That Congress shall have power to ''alter, amend, or re- peal" the Act " at any time hereafter." (Sec, 8.) In the sundry civil appropriation bill for 1872 there was appropriated " for purchase of the building now occupied by said hospital, with forty thousand feet of ground, twenty- 164 ESS A YS AND ADDRESSES. five thousand dollars: Provided, That the title of said real estate shall be vested in the United States for the use of said hospital, and that no part of the real or personal property now held or hereafter to be acquired by said institution shall be devoted to any other purpose than a hospital for women and a lying-in asylum without the consent of the United States." These extracts from the charter determine definitely the objects of the institution, and the above clause, quoted from the sundry civil appropriation bill of 1872, fixes the owner- ship of the " real or personal property now held or hereafter to be acquired by said institution " in the Government of the United States. If anything further was necessary to settle ultimately the rightful ownership of the institution, the an- nual appropriations made by Congress for its maintenance and support might be cited. Statement of annual appropriations by Congress for the institution: 1866, $10,000; 1867, $10,000; 1868, not ob- tained—probably $10,000; 1869, $15,000; 1870, $10,000; 1871, $18,000; 1872, $18,500; 1873, 52,000 ; 1874, $28,- 500; 1875, $32,500; 1876, $24,000 — total, $217,000. Aggregate, including 1868, $227,000. This amount does not include the sums (nor the sums con- tributed by the city government, which were considerable) annually received from ^' pay -patients," which are unknown quantities, never having been paid into the United States Treasury, or in any manner accounted for. ISTeither the Government of the United States, which has been its munifi- cent almoner from the beginning, nor the public, for whose benefit it was created, have any knowledge whatever of the amount of money received from '' pay -patients " nor how it has been expended. Now that it has been shown that the institution belongs (the claim of a portion of the directory to the contrary not- withstanding) to the Government of the United States, the next inquiry that presents itself is : Has its management been proper and commendable ? yiVS'.SVl J W A ND A Dim ICSSES. 1 r,5 The clisu'tcr doclams tlio ))iirj)OH(! of tin: yVsHofiiation to be to '' found in the city of Washiii'^ton a hospital and diHj)f:n- sary for the treatment of Ax&QdifmH peculiar to wonif-n, and a lyin!j:;-in asyhim ;" y(!t nnmbors of women siiffcrinji; from din- oases not " peculiar " to the sex have been admit ted to its wards. Cases of consumption, pneumonia, hiji-joint disease, malarial, typhoid, and remittent fevers, and other aff'-etions equally objectionable to the proper hygienic conditions of a lying-in asylum have been admitted. Chapter XII. of the '' By-laws and Regulations," now in force, reads as follows: '^ Patients will be admitted to private rooms in the institution on payment of not less than §6 per week, the amount to vary with the room occupied and the attendance required. Board payable weekly in advance. This includes medicine, medical and surgical attendance." The amount charged varies from $6 to $10 a week in an institution owned and supported by the general government, which has declared its object to be '' to found in the city of Washington a hospital for the treatment of diseases peculiar to women and a lying-in asylum, in which those unable to pay therefor shall be furnished with board, lodging, medicine, and medical attendance gratuitously. " The Congress of the United States did not contemplate, nor does the language of the char- ter authorize, the establishment of a boarding-house for the reception of women sick with diseases peculiar to the sex or pregnant ; yet the management has so construed Sec. 5 of the Act of incorporation, and claims that this feature, thus en- grafted upon the institution, has transformed it into a private hospital, which can be conducted irrespective of the rights of the general government and without responsibility for the sums of money received from this source. The number of pay- patients is probably never less than one-fifth, and occasion- ally may reach one-third of the daily average of patients in the institution. The daily average of patients for any year since 1866 has not probably exceeded thirty, which, at the maxi- mum charge of SIO per week for board, lodging, medicine, 166 ESSAYS AND ADJDEESSES. and medical attendance, would make the daily cost about $43, or nearly $16,000 a year. Yet in 1875 Congress appro- priated $32,500 exclusive of the amount received from pay- patients, which, upon the same basis of calculation (one-fifth of the daily average of patients at $10 per week), would amount to $3,131, which, added to the appropriation by Congress, would make $35,631 expended for the support of a daily average of thirty patients for one year, or $1,187 for each patient per annum. These calculations are based upon a high daily average of patients at the maximum cost of pay-patients fixed by the by-law previously cited. But it must be mani- fest that a number of the pay-patients (perhaps at all times one-half of their number) do not pay more than $6 per week, a sum, it seems, deemed by the authorities adequate to cover cost of " board, lodging, medicine, and medical attendance;" and therefore a rate which should cover the cost of maintain- ing the pauper patients in an institution free from rent, ' ' taxes, and assessments. " If the cost of each patient per annum had been estimated upon the basis of $6 per week, it would not have been half the amount previously named as the apparent cost per annum per patient.^ There need, how- ever, be no speculation as to the daily average or daily costs of patients ; for during the past eighteen mouths the number of patients in the house has been recorded daily, and Con- gress can require the resident physician to produce the record. With these data and the aggregate amount of expenditures during the same period, any tyro can ascertain the average daily cost of each patient in money, to which should be added the wear and tear of the luxurious and costly furniture which adorns certain apartments. It will doubtless not be so easy to ascertain the number of pay-patients or the amount of money which they have paid into the treasury of the institution. 1 A daily average of thirty patients, including the pay and fee, at a weekly cost of 86 for each patient, would make the weekly cost 1180, or 8^9760 per annum ; whereas in 1876 Congress appropriated $24,000, exclusive of the amount received from the "pay-patients." A'-S'-S'.l r,S' A Nit AhDRKHSES. 107 Many of these pay-puticnts cariic from ilio States; whether broiiglit thither by members and Senators or attracted by the amhi!i;iious reputation of its recent chief mcdifal ofTu-fr, can- not of course be ascertained. In view of the extra va<^ant expenditures made m support of this institution and with the purj)ose to correct a manifest abuse, a number of physicians resicb'ng in this city and con- nected with other hospitals and medical institutions, })resented, through Mr. Stevenson, of Illinois, to the first session of the Forty-fourth Congress, a bill entitled ''A bill to abolish and to establish a new Board of Health for the District of Columbia, and for other purposes" (House bill No. 3194), which contains the following provision, Section 7: ''That all appropriations made by Congress for the support of any hospital, either in whole or in part, shall be disbursed under the direction of the Surgeon-General of the United States Arnay : Provided, That the rates allowed by him shall not exceed one dollar per day for each patient actually treated in each hospital," and providing further, in Section 8, " that no salary shall be paid to any medical officer other than the resident physician connected with any hospital supported in whole or in part by the Government of the United States." The allowance of one dollar per day was based upon the ascertained cost of each patient per day in the army hospi- tals and upon the contract made by the government with the authorities of Providence Hospital for the maintenance of the transient sick paupers, for which Congress for many years has made annual appropriations. If the government can maintain sick soldiers at a cost not exceeding one dollar per day, and transient sick paupers at a cost not exceeding six dollars per week, why must it pay more than three dol- lars per day (including those who are supposed to defray their own expenses) for each patient in its hospital for ' ' dis- eases peculiar to women and a lying-in asylum ? " To recur to the charter. By Section 3 the number of direc- tors is limited to twelve, '' or such further number as the 168 ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES. duties of the corporation may require/' and Regulation 1, Chapter I., prescribes that the " board of directors shall con- sist of not more than fifteen members, with one Senator and two Representatives added to it by Act of Congress." The charter and the by-law passed in pursuance thereof are in- definite in regard to the number of directors. Section 2 con- fers authority upon the board '' to fill all vacancies created by death, resignation, or otherwise," and the by-law, Cliapter I., prescribes that " vacancies occurring in the board may be filled at any regular meeting," The number is indefinite ; the terms of service are unlimited, and the majority of a quorum (seven) possesses the power to fill vacancies at any regular meeting, so that the controlling influence can main- tain its ascendancy forever by filling or not filling vacancies, or by increasing the number, as may best suit and secure their purposes, objects, and aims. Such provisions of law are against public policy, contrary to the usages of the gov- ernment, demoralizing in their tendencies, and conduce inevi- tably to the formation of cliques, combinations, and rings, which accept any opportunity to promote their ulterior pur- poses. No banker or capitalist would engage in an enter- prise, with or without a charter, which vested all authority in a board of managers indefinite in number, with unlimited terms of service, and with indefinite power to increase its number or fill its vacancies. Honesty is very prone to cease where responsibility terminates. The consonance between the language of the charter and the by-laws passed in pur- suance thereof clearly manifests the animus which prompted the authors of the enactment to clothe the powers conferred upon the Association in language so unusual and peculiar. He or they projected a great corporation to be held in per- petuity by themselves, their heirs and assigns. This might be tolerated or excused if any one of the directors had ever contributed one penny toward defraying the expenses of the establishment or owned a farthing's worth of the property. Even the pen, ink, and paper with which their acts, if at all, .I