Tomorrow, nor tomorrow, nor tomorrow!"
Doctor, forgive me, if I dare prescribe
A rule for thee thyself, and all thy tribe,
Inserting a few serious words by stealth;

ABOVE ALL PRICE OF WEALTH

THE BODY'S JEWEL-NOT FOR MINDS PROFANE,
OR HANDS, TO TAMPER WITH IN PRACTICE VAIN-
Like to a Woman's Virtue is Man's HeaLTH.
A HEAVENLY GIFT WITHIN A HOLY SHRINE!

TO BE APPROACHED AND TOUCHED WITH SERIOUS FEAR,
BY HANDS MADE PURE, AND HEARTS OF FAITH SEVERE,
Ev 'N AS THE PRIESTHOOD OF THE ONE DIVINE!

But, zounds! each fellow with a suit of black,

And, strange to fame,

With a diplomaed name,

That carries two more letters pick-a-back,

With cane, and snuffbox, powdered wig, and block,
Invents His dose, as if it were a chrism,

And dares to treat our wondrous mechanism
Familiar as the works of old Dutch clock;

Yet, how would common sense esteem the man,

O how, my unrelated German cousin,

Who having some such time-keeper on trial,
And finding it too fast, enforced the dial,
To strike upon the Homœopathic plan
Of fourteen to the dozen?

Take my advice, 'tis given without a fee,

Drown, drown your book ten thousand fathoms deep,
Like Prospero's, beneath the briny sea,
For spells of magic have all gone to sleep!
Leave no decillionth fragment of your works
To help the interest of quacking Burkes ;
Aid not in murdering even widows' mites-
And now forgive me for my candid zeal,
I had not said so much, but that I feel
Should you TAKE ILL what here my Muse indites,
And Ode-ling more will set you all to rights.

-THOMAS HOOD

Our Faith

Read at the annual dinner of the Homœopathic Medical Society of Western Massachusetts, Springfield, March 20, 1895.

'S comrades of a scattered band

At war against disease and death,
We meet to grasp the friendly hand
And reaffirm our common faith.

We reaffirm, but not abuse,

The sacred rights for which we stand

The right to take, the right to use,

The best our wisdom can command.

We bow unto no man the knee,

We brook no ancient, iron creed;
Our attitude is-Loyalty

To Truth wherever she may lead.

Whate 'er of worth the fathers wrought
We humbly, gratefully confess;
Nor prize we less the latest thought
That comes humanity to bless.

We honor age, we honor youth,
We honor every class, or clan,
That bravely battles for the truth
And for the betterment of man.

Nor care we what the means, or whence
In which restoring power we find
From matter, or the more intense

And subtle potencies of mind,—

From earth, or air, or sun, or seas,

Or from the lightning 's lurid breath,We care not, so they heal disease

And stay the awful hand of death.

If this be "dogmatism blind,"

With dear old Whittier we say:

Pray for us, that our feet may find
Some broader, safer, surer way."

Albeit this our faith holds fast-
The kindlier method, known as ours,
Above the crudeness of the past,

Like Calvary over Sinal towers!

The long-used lancet lies at rest;

The leech bides in its native flood; And ne 'er again, at man 's behest, Shall they regale on human blood.

The cruel thirst of time ago

Is lost in crystal waters quaffed; For Hahnemann has lived-and lo! The fevered lip hath cooling draught!

All honor to that gracious name!
Nail it aloft before our sight,
Among the noblest sons of fame,
In characters of living light!

But Heaven forbid that we should boast
Over our bit of knowledge gained,

It seems so swallowed up and lost
Beside the boundless unattained.

The unattained! Stupendous word!
What visions in its face we see!
And in its syllables are heard

What whisperings from futurity!

It points us to a golden day,
Wherein man shall so comprehend
Great Nature's laws and so obey,
That all disease shall have an end;

A day when gladness grief shall drown,
And dirge to delectation rise,
And Prophylaxis win the crown

From Therapeutics' envious eyes;

A day when time, exempt from fears,
Shall sit so lightly on the brow
That man shall round an hundred years
As gracefully as sixty now.

Perchance he may on earth remain
So long as he shall choose to stay,
Then take some through, aerial train,
And, like Elijah, whirl away!

Indeed we cannot apprehend

The wonders we may yet behold,
When blood of horse and man shall blend
As in the centaurs, famed of old;

When wicked germs no more shall dare

To stifle babies at the breast,

And all the microbes of the air

Have been forever laid at rest;

When people, of whatever "school,"

Shall cease to "dose"-if cease they can,And learn that Nature, as a rule,

If not abused is true to man.

'Tis coming! Yes, we dare to hope, Though doubt doth every point beset,

The culture tube and microscope

Will solve the mighty problem yet.

'Tis coming-the protecting light

Of higher knowledge yet to be-
As sure as stars come out at night,
Or rivers reach the roaring sea.

'Tis coming! Expectation thrills
At thought of triumphs pressing on!
See! Even now the eastern hills

Are bannered with the flags of dawn!

-DR. N. W. RAND.

Esthetics in Medicine

Y your leave, I desire just to call your attention,
And will barely suggest that I simply would men-

B

tion

The fact that the science of beauty is rarely
Brought into physic,—at least not quite fairly!
For men love their lager, and dinners, and wine,
And women, and horses, and everything fine;
But physic goes begging, at least, if not so,
The patient goes begging to let him "go slow."
Now æsthetics most surely and certainly should,
By all that is great and everything good,

Be brought into physic; for what shall we do
With mankind in a fever, "too utterly too?"

And nothing that's lovely, and nothing that 's bright,
With a storm coming on and the land out of sight!
In place of the old-fashioned course of emetics,
Why not give a dose of exquisite æsthetics?
Bring your patient to health on a bed of soft roses,
Surrounded by lilies, and sunflowers, and posies!
Now, the knife of surgeon-as an entering wedge-
Should be shining and bright, with no "feather edge."
And should penetrate kindly and gently and sure,
With a loving respect for all human gore.
The patient should lie in an easy repose,

With a flower on his breast (a carnation rose),