This can hardly be said of the chapter of Dr. Meigs’s volume which treats of Contagion in Childbed Fever.  There are expressions used in it which might well put a stop to all scientific discussions, were they to form the current coin in our exchange of opinions.  I leave the “very young gentlemen,” whose careful expositions of the results of practice in more than six thousand cases are characterized as “the jejune and fizenless dreamings of sophomore writers,” to the sympathies of those “dear young friends,” and “dear young gentlemen,” who will judge how much to value their instructor’s counsel to think for themselves, knowing what they are to expect if they happen not to think as he does.

One unpalatable expression I suppose the laws of construction oblige me to appropriate to myself, as my reward for a certain amount of labor bestowed on the investigation of a very important question of evidence, and a statement of my own practical conclusions.  I take no offence, and attempt no retort.  No man makes a quarrel with me over the counterpane that covers a mother, with her new-born infant at her breast.  There is no epithet in the vocabulary of slight and sarcasm that can reach my personal sensibilities in such a controversy.  Only just so far as a disrespectful phrase may turn the student aside from the examination of the evidence, by discrediting or dishonoring the witness, does it call for any word of notice.

I appeal from the disparaging language by which the Professor in the Jefferson School of Philadelphia world dispose of my claims to be listened to.  I appeal, not to the vote of the Society for Medical Improvement, although this was an unusual evidence of interest in the paper in question, for it was a vote passed among my own townsmen; nor to the opinion of any American, for none know better than the Professors in the great Schools of Philadelphia how cheaply the praise of native contemporary criticism is obtained.  I appeal to the recorded opinions of those whom I do not know, and who do not know me, nor care for me, except for the truth that I may have uttered; to Copland, in his “Medical Dictionary,” who has spoken of my Essay in phrases to which the pamphlets of American “scribblers” are seldom used from European authorities; to Ramsbotham, whose compendious eulogy is all that self-love could ask; to the “Fifth Annual Report” of the Registrar-General of England, in which the second-hand abstract of my Essay figures largely, and not without favorable comment, in an important appended paper.  These testimonies, half forgotten until this circumstance recalled them, are dragged into the light, not in a paroxysm of vanity, but to show that there may be food for thought in the small pamphlet which the Philadelphia Teacher treats so lightly.  They were at least unsought for, and would never have been proclaimed but for the sake of securing the privilege of a decent and unprejudiced hearing.