step I have ventured to take: and believe that, if I had not felt that I had, in this case, a duty to fulfil, I should not have offered to you my advice, nor addressed to you my petition; for it is rather a petition I have addressed to you, than advice that I have given you.

Nevertheless, in

How could I venture to do the latter? reading over my letter, it seems to me to betray the tone of an advocate, who is pleading a cause; and I would willingly begin it anew, were I not afraid that, from my deep conviction of the truth of what I have stated, I should relapse into the same fault. Accept it then, sir, such as it is, with indulgence; and believe that no one here is more sincerely attached to your son, or entertains for him a higher esteem than I do. Above all, listen to the suggestions which I have ventured to make; and may my wishes that your son may devote himself exclusively to observation be ultimately realized; for it is to that point I constantly return.

I conclude by renewing to you my thanks, and beg you to be assured of my sentiments, &c., of respect.

PARIS, Oct. 28, 1832.

(Signed)

LOUIS.

LOUIS TO DR. JAMES JACKSON, SR.

DEAR SIR, My respected brother, I thank you most sincerely for your last letter, and particularly for the details, into which you were kind enough to enter with regard to your son. Nothing certainly could be more grateful to my feelings; for it is almost a mark of affection for myself, and I feel almost worthy of it, from the strength of that which I bear your excellent son. He will soon leave us; but his name will long be mentioned among us, and I hope that the ocean, which is to separate us, will not be a complete barrier to our intercourse. I feel more than any one else how much you must long to see, as soon as possible, a son whose profession is the same as your own, and with whom it will be so delightful to converse respecting it. Indeed, I never thought of inducing you to leave him with us in Europe for four or five years. I love in Mr.

Jackson the man and the physician: but he is a son, and you are a father; and, though I have never known the delight of paternal affection, I should not have regarded as possible the sacrifice, which you understood me to propose to you. My only wish was that you should allow your son to devote himself exclusively to observation, for several years, in Boston. I recommended this to you, because no one is more capable than he is of cultivating science, and consequently of promoting the progress of our professional practice. For what is practice, but science brought into daily use? Think, for a moment, sir, of the situation, in which we physicians are placed. We have no legislative chambers to enact laws for us. We are our own lawgivers, or rather we must discover the laws, on which our profession rests. We must discover them, and not invent them; for the laws of nature are not to be invented. And who is to discover these laws? Who should be a diligent observer of nature for this purpose, if not the son of a physician, who has himself experienced the difficulties of the observation of disease, who knows how few minds are fitted for it, and how few have, at once, the talents and inclination, requisite for the task? The inclination, especially, for this requires that the observer should possess a thorough regard for truth, and a certain elevation of mind, or rather of character, which we rarely meet with.

All this is united in your son. You ought, for in my opinion it is a duty, — you ought to consecrate him, for a few years, to science. This, sir, is my conviction; and I hope it will be yours also. I know very well that every one will not be of the same opinion; but what matters it, if it be yours, if you look upon a physician (as I do) as holding a sacred office which demands greater sacrifices, than are to be made in any other profession? Believe me that I do not forget in all this the force of established usages. I think of all this; but I am none the less convinced that Mr. Jackson, entering into practice, after three or four years, with the esteem of all his professional brethren, and surrounded, as it were, with their respect, will very rapidly regain all which he may have sacrificed, and much

more.

At all events, my best wishes, and those of all his friends here, will follow him, whatever may be his course; and I shall

always esteem myself happy in having known him. Permit me, sir, to assure you of this, and of the sentiments of respect and affection with which I am, &c.

PARIS, March 22, 1833.

(Signed)

LOUIS.

DR. JAMES JACKSON, JR., TO HIS FATHER.

MY DEAR FATHER,

PARIS, July 13, 1833.

am out of Paris. I agony it gives me to

In two hours, I will not attempt to describe to you the quit Louis. He is my second father, and God knows that is a name I, of all men, cannot use lightly. I may not persuade you to look upon him with my eyes exactly, as a scientific man; but in your heart he must have the share of a brother, for he almost shares my affection with you. From one upon whom I had no claims, but those which my life and mind and habits gave me, I have experienced a care, an affection, which I never could dare expect from any but my dear father, and which I shall ever feel to be the most honorable and truly worthy prize of my life. To meet with satisfaction in the eyes of such a man, and to hold a place in his heart, as I do, I allow I am proud of. But, my dear father, I cannot write. I am sitting here, expecting to see Louis for the last time in my life; and it is only upon the occasion of quitting yourself, whom I have ever felt to be a part of me, that I have suffered as I do at present. The ties of relationship are strong: the strongest when that relationship is close and dependent, especially if it be mingled with the strongest and warmest sympathies. But one's mind's friends, - the hearts which not nature, but our own characters have given us, the friend who, not father to our bodies, has yet been, and is ever to be, the source, fountain, and direction of the dearest thoughts of our minds, that friend and that relationship is also dear. It is that friendship I must now quit, probably for ever; it is that relationship that in the person I must now break, though in the mind and in the heart it can never be broken. Till now, I knew not how I loved my French master. I know well I shall rarely be called to such trials: they can occur but few times in life. Thank God

that with me grief is as short as it is poignant, and that in a few days nought will occupy my mind but the anticipation of the joys of home! Once more in the arms of my beloved family, and under the wing of my dear father, and I can imagine no higher joy.

DR. PIERSON'S ESTIMATE OF JAMES JACKSON, Jr.

I quote the following from Dr. Pierson's Obituary, in order to show the position which Jackson held among his elders. It is simply the introductory sentences of a brief biography : —

"It is seldom that the death of a junior member of the profession has called forth so general a voice of sympathy and regret, as has been heard among us, since the death of this estimable and talented young man. There were circumstances in his private life, which warranted the high expectation of the community in which he lived; and, in venturing to allude to these circumstances, it is in the hope that his example may speak to us in the tones of that voice, we are destined to hear

no more.

"In our profession, the paths of mediocrity are crowded. There are multitudes among us who feel, perhaps, some aspirations to benefit mankind, by researches which would carry us a little beyond the circle of our common duties, and yet who are conscious of a thousand deficiencies of time, opportunity, and education, which fetter us in our daily task. It is, therefore, a public loss, in which the interest and honor of the profession are largely concerned, when one is taken away from us, who has been eminently qualified by disposition, by mental endowments, by zeal and opportunity, to shed lustre upon a useful and honorable pursuit. Yet such was James Jackson, Jr. His profession was that of his only, his earliest choice; his mind was of good material, well nurtured, mature for his years, and peculiarly adapted to the nature of his occupation; his opportunities had been, and continued to be, most improving; and his constitutional zeal and ardor, directed (as they were) singly to the science of medicine, were calculated to surmount every difficulty, and to remove every obstacle, which would be likely to

intimidate and deter less gifted minds. It was a pure zeal it was ardor in the cause of truth. It was like the zeal and ardor that actuated the mind of John Hunter, and filled that of the youthful Bichat. It was an unceasing prompting, which always is and must be connected with generous and noble sentiments, which carries men to the highest ends, by the most virtuous means. If this be deemed the language of friendship, be it so. We know that it is the language of truth; and we record it to excite those among us, who are capable of it (for even our partiality will allow that there are many such) to devote themselves to those noble purposes in the art of healing, to which our lamented friend had devoted the best energies of his cultivated mind."