Temple University School of Medicine - Skull Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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THE DOCTOR

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Jht fflrmurtam DAVID GREGG MFTHEN Y, M.D., L.R.C.S. (Edin.), L.R.C.P. (Edin.), L.F.P.S. (Glasgow) Professor of Anatomy and Histology We deeply realize that to us has been vouchsafed the privilege and the honor of association and instruction from the Spirit of a Man. The sad and silent Hand of Death has deprived us of the Friendship of one to whom friendship was the highest attribute of men. So strange it seems that he who began with us, as he did, should end with us, in this manner. And yet, stranger than this was the peculiar attraction and interest he had for us, his ideal class. It is a mysterious question to which there may be an answer in the future, replete with meaning to those who were initiated into the gentle charm of his personality. His life was one of adventure, a romance with which some novelist might stir the world and vet he attained the highest rank and recognition within his chosen profession, lie brought the training of great universities, knowledge gleaned from the far-flung corners of the earth, the broad experiences of a lifetime, and laid them in willing sacrifice at our feet. In what seems now to have been fateful and significant terms, he often expressed his hope and faith that his own contribution to life would be manifested through us. As we passed from beneath his care, the fibrils of his heartstrings folded like the lilies of the field, but the fragrance of their fruitage gave fresh emanations at our slightest touch. David Gregg Methcny had but one heart to give to a class and he gave it to us unselfishly and nobly. He is not dead, but has simply changed his form to be our Guardian Spirit in the few short years to come and we may rest assured he will never call a roll. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers wither at the northwind's breath, And stars to set. but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own. O Death. We know when moons shall wane, When summer birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn’s hue shall tinge the golden grain, But who shall teach us when to look for thee?—11 cmaus. Morrison Saltus. 7

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THE SKULL The Doctor i HE famous picture which we have here inscribed was painted by Sir S. Luke Elides, an English artist, and was first exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1891. its success was immediate and today it is well known and loved in botli England and America. The popularity of the picture is due to the strong appeal that it makes to the higher and finer qualities of mankind and the rcsjxmse that it evokes in every bosom. The heartbroken mother and the stem-faced, vigilant father half hidden in the shadows of the background, the stricken child on its homely pallet, and the kindly, watchful physician bent over the little sufferer—all these have their counterpart in the experience of everyone who has encountered sickness and death. There is a most careful attention to detail, too often lacking in our impressionistic modern painting. The homely furnishings of the room, almost lost in the shadow, are, nevertheless, clearly depicted, and are without exception in keeping with the spirit of the picture. Even the bird is silent in his cage, as if he. too, were imbued with the sense of waiting and dread. It will often be our lot to enter upon and be the central figure in such a scene as this. May the character which is so plainly written upon the face of “THE DOCTOR” be ours. May we embrace every opportunity to give aid to the suffering and comfort to those in sorrow. And may our human sympathy and medical skill always go hand in hand in the warfare against disease and death. 9