The occasion which calls us together reminds us not a little of that other ceremony which unites a man and woman for life.  The banns have already been pronounced which have wedded our young friends to the profession of their choice.  It remains only to address to them some friendly words of cheering counsel, and to bestow upon them the parting benediction.

This is not the time for rhetorical display or ambitious eloquence.  We must forget ourselves, and think only of them.  To us it is an occasion; to them it is an epoch.  The spectators at the wedding look curiously at the bride and bridegroom; at the bridal veil, the orange-flower garland, the giving and receiving of the ring; they listen for the tremulous “I will,” and wonder what are the mysterious syllables the clergyman whispers in the ear of the married maiden.  But to the newly-wedded pair what meaning in those words, “for better, for worse,” “in sickness and in health,” “till death us do part!” To the father, to the mother, who know too well how often the deadly nightshade is interwoven with the wreath of orange-blossoms, how empty the pageant, how momentous the reality!

You will not wonder that I address myself chiefly to those who are just leaving academic life for the sterner struggle and the larger tasks of matured and instructed manhood.  The hour belongs to them; if others find patience to listen, they will kindly remember that, after all, they are but as the spectators at the wedding, and that the priest is thinking less of them than of their friends who are kneeling at the altar.

I speak more directly to you, then, gentlemen of the graduating class.  The days of your education, as pupils of trained instructors, are over.  Your first harvest is all garnered.  Henceforth you are to be sowers as well as reapers, and your field is the world.  How does your knowledge stand to-day?  What have you gained as a permanent possession?  What must you expect to forget?  What remains for you yet to learn?  These are questions which it may interest you to consider.

There is another question which must force itself on the thoughts of many among you:  “How am I to obtain patients and to keep their confidence?” You have chosen a laborious calling, and made many sacrifices to fit yourselves for its successful pursuit.  You wish to be employed that you may be useful, and that you may receive the reward of your industry.  I would take advantage of these most receptive moments to give you some hints which may help you to realize your hopes and expectations.  Such is the outline of the familiar talk I shall offer you.

Your acquaintance with some of the accessory branches is probably greater now than it will be in a year from now,—­much greater than it will by ten years from now.  The progress of knowledge, it may be feared, or hoped, will have outrun the text-books in which you studied these branches.  Chemistry, for instance, is very apt to spoil on one’s hands.  “Nous avons change tout cela” might serve as the standing motto of many of our manuals.  Science is a great traveller, and wears her shoes out pretty fast, as might be expected.