82 



Duties of the Physician. 



Vol. VIII. 



crowded as is our own, with high examples 

 of this beautiful union of science and virtue. 

 The annals of our art are all radiant with 

 their starry names. Go where you will — 

 through all the wide regions of civilization 

 and of science ; and in every nook and cor- 

 ner, in every quiet village, in every remote 

 and rural district, will you find the fragrant 

 memory of some sucli example, or some liv- 

 ing illustration of its beauty. — In the village 

 church of Dundalk, there is a marble monu- 

 ment, on which is written the name of George 

 Gilliclian — a man, as I have learned since 

 these words were written, who was a class- 

 mate in Europe, and an esteemed personal 

 friend of one of my' present colleagues. In 

 the beginning of that dreadful epidemic 

 with which Ireland was overrun, twenty- 

 five years ago, he was among the earliest to 

 see and to comprehend the danger of the 

 coming storm. He aroused his friends and 

 neighbours to a sense of the peril which v>'as 

 approacliing them; he urged them to make 

 ready for its visitation; be aided them in 

 the establishment of an efficient medical po- 

 lice, and in the institution of a public hos- 

 pital. And when, amidst gloom, and mis- 

 giving and terror, it came upon them, where 

 was the young physician ! Day and night, 

 at the bedside of the sick and the poor. He 

 refused entirely the calls of the rich. He 

 withdrew himself entirely from the service 

 of those who were able to pay, and who 

 could therefore easily command all the care 

 and attention which they required, in order 

 to devote himself exclusively to the desti- 

 tute, the forsaken, the neglected — to those 

 who were ready to perish because there 

 were none to help. Gilliclian was young — 

 thirty years had not yet passed over his 

 head — he was learned and accomplished ; — 

 life, with its golden honours yet unreached 

 — with its choicest pleasures yet untasted, 

 spread far and wide before him ; — he hoped 

 to escape the fever, although he had a strong 

 and sad presentiment, that he should not 

 survive it if it seized him — he knew, that 

 in the close and confined dwellings of the 

 poor, the contagious causes of the dis- 

 ease were concentrated and malignant — but, 

 urged on by his sense of duty, and his love 

 for his fellow-men — hour after hour — day 

 after day — night after night, in the crowded 

 hospital, in the unfurnished hut, by the way- 

 side, in the dark, damp, cheerless hovel, with 

 its beds of straw — wherever the minnfled 

 call of disease and poverty summoned him — 

 wherever there was suffering to be relieved 

 — wherever there was hunger to be appeased 

 — wherever there was wretchedness to be 

 comforted — there, with the succours of his 

 art, with the charities of his liberal hand, 



with the solace of his friendly voice, like a 

 ministering angel, was tiie young physician. 

 At last, worn down by fatigue, and poisoned 

 by the thick contagion in the midst of which 

 he had lived, he fell a victim to the pesti- 

 lence — and amidst the sounds of a universal 

 grief, his spirit went back to the bosom of 

 his God. The gratitude of survivors may 

 rarely have erected visible monuments to 

 their Gillichans, but there are few neigh- 

 bourhoods which have not been blessed by 

 them. Ever consecrated be thy memory, 

 young martyr to humanity, to duty, to love ! 

 I would sooner make a pilgrimage to thy 

 humble tomb — I would rather hang a new 

 garland on the urn which contains thy 

 ashes, than visit the mausoleums of all the 

 Pharaohs, and the Ca-sars, and the Napo- 

 leons, that the world has over seen. 



Prouty & Me.irs' Plough. 



\Wv, find in tliG Anifiican Farmor of the Ctli ultimo, 

 a IfTtcr tlatnd August 2^1 li, from VV. Govane Howard, 

 lii^'lily appr(il)atory of this plough. Wo make from it 

 tUu fallowing I'Xtract.— Ee. 



To THE Editor of the A. Farmer, — 



Dear Sir, — I cheerfully comply with the 

 request you make in your paper of the 23d 

 inst., to give you the result of the trial of 

 Messrs. Prouty & Mears' plougli on my 

 farm, and I am sure it will give you as 

 much pleasure to know as it does me to 

 ^^ herald" the complete triumph of Mr. Ped- 

 der and his plough in my clover field. In 

 order that your readers may properly appre- 

 ciate the merits of this plough, it will be 

 proper for me to say, that there was grow- 

 ing on the field the heaviest growth of 

 clover I have ever seen, that it was just in 

 bloom and lying in all directions, and in ad- 

 dition to all this, the second crop of 1842, 

 which was a large one, was neither cut nor 

 pastured, making altogether the largest bulk 

 of vegetable matter I have ever seen co- 

 vered ; and let me add, that the soil was so 

 very mellow, that with either of my ploughs, 

 — and I believe I owned the very best Bal- 

 timore could furnish — the clover and soil 

 would gather in wheelbarrow loads on the 

 mould-board every ten or twelve yards, and 

 yet with the Centre-draught plouah, the 

 whole is so entirely covered, that the most 

 practised eye would scarcely be able to dis- 

 cover, after one harrowing, that the field 

 had been in clover — whilst that part of the 

 field which was ploughed with tlie other 

 ploughs, presents the most unsightly ap- 

 pearance, cart-loads of clover on the surface, 

 and hills and hollows. I have therefore, no 

 hesitation in saying, that it is decidedly the 

 very best plough I have ever seen, and have 

 no doubt it will supercede all other ploughs 

 when it becomes generally known. 



