their first meeting in London twenty years before.
Do you perchance recall when first we met —
And gaily winged with thought the flying night
And won with ease the friendship of the mind, —
I like to call it friendship at first sight.
And then you found with us a second home,
And, in the practice of life's happiest art
You little guessed how readily you won
The added friendship of the open heart.
And now a score of years has fled away
In noble service of life's highest ends,
And my glad capture of a London night
Disputes with me a continent of friends.
On Osler's seventieth birthday, just passed, the medical world set out to do him honor — unknown to him, for he was one to elude public testimonials and did not suffer adulation gladly, quick as he was to give praise to others. For this occasion many of his former pupils and colleagues in Balti-more wrote a number of papers containing the sort of things rarely said or written about a man or his work until after his death. Among these papers is one by his present successor there, on "Osler the Teacher" which deserves quoting in full, but which after an enunciation of his traits ends with this picture of the man as his hospital associates and students remember him.
If you can practice consistently all this, . . . and then, if you can bring into corridor and ward a light, springing step, a kindly glance, a bright word to everyone you meet, arm passed within arm or thrown over the shoulder of the happy
