and truth as their _diagnosis_ is allowed to be)--still I think it will
not be denied, that chiefly to the Parisian physicians, and to the
untiring energy of particular individuals amongst them, whom it would
not be difficult to name, are we indebted at this moment for some of the
most important knowledge that we possess--knowledge, be it understood,
derived altogether from investigations diligently pursued at the
patient's bedside, and obtained with the greatest judgment, difficulty,
and pains. As I write, the honourable and European reputation of _Louis_
occurs to my mind--an instance of universal acknowledgment rendered to
genius and talents wholly or principally devoted to the alleviation of
human suffering, and to the acquisition of wisdom in the form and by the
method to which I have adverted.

A mere attempt to refer to the many and various obligations which the
continental professors of medicine have laid upon mankind during the
last half century, would fill a book. They were well known and spoken of
in my youth, and the names of many learned foreigners were at that
period associated in my bosom with sentiments of awe and veneration. It
was some time after I had once resolved to go abroad, before I fixed
upon Paris as my destination. _Langanbeck_, the greatest operator of his
day, the _Liston_ of Germany, was performing miracles in Hanover.
_Tiedemann_, a less nimble operator, but a far more learned surgeon, had
already made the medical schools of Heidelberg famous by his lectures
and still valued publications; whilst the lamented and deeply
penetrating _Stromeyer_--the tutor and friend of our own amiable and
early-lost Edward Turner--had established himself already in
_Goettingen_, and drawn around him a band of enthusiastic students who
have since done honour to their teacher, and in their turn become
eminent amongst the first chemists of the day. With such and similar
temptations from many quarters, it was not easy to arrive at a steady
determination. I had hardly thought of Paris, when--as it often
happens--a thing of a moment relieved me from difficulty and doubt, and
helped me at once to a decision. A letter one morning by the post
induced me to set out for the giddiest and yet most fascinating of
European cities. James M'Linnie--who, by the way, died only the other
day of dysentery at Hong-Kong, a few hours after landing with the troops
upon that luckless island--was an old hospital acquaintance, and, li