ny, and brought with him recollections of the teachings of
Blumenbach and the elder Langenbeck, father of him whose portrait hangs
in our Museum. Dr. Lewis was our companion as well as our teacher. A
good demonstrator is,--I will not say as important as a good Professor
in the teaching of Anatomy, because I am not sure that he is not
more important. He comes into direct personal relations with the
students,--he is one of them, in fact, as the Professor cannot be from
the nature of his duties. The Professor's chair is an insulating stool,
so to speak; his age, his knowledge, real or supposed, his official
station, are like the glass legs which support the electrician's piece
of furniture, and cut it off from the common currents of the floor upon
which it stands. Dr. Lewis enjoyed teaching and made his students enjoy
being taught. He delighted in those anatomical conundrums to answer
which keeps the student's eyes open and his wits awake. He was happy as
he dexterously performed the tour de maitre of the old barber-surgeons,
or applied the spica bandage and taught his scholars to do it, so neatly
and symmetrically that the aesthetic missionary from the older centre of
civilization would bend over it in blissful contemplation, as if it were
a sunflower. Dr. Lewis had many other tastes, and was a favorite, not
only with students, but in a wide circle, professional, antiquarian,
masonic, and social.

Dr. Otis was less widely known, but was a fluent and agreeable lecturer,
and esteemed as a good surgeon.

I must content myself with this glimpse at myself and a few of my
fellow-students in Boston. After attending two courses of Lectures in
the school of the University, I went to Europe to continue my studies.

You may like to hear something of the famous Professors of Paris in the
days when I was a student in the Ecole de Medicine, and following the
great Hospital teachers.

I can hardly believe my own memory when I recall the old practitioners
and Professors who were still going round the hospitals when I mingled
with the train of students that attended the morning visits. See that
bent old man who is groping his way through the wards of La Charity.
That is the famous Baron Boyer, author of the great work on surgery in
nine volumes, a writer whose clearness of style commends his treatise to
general admiration, and makes it a kind of classic. He slashes away at a
terrible rate, they say, when he gets hold of the subject of