To be sure, their friendliness had not been withal an admission of the principle that women ought to be, or could be, physicians. On the contrary, I was informed in private conversation by some of these men that I was considered an “exception” to my sex; that such exceptions had existed in ancient times and were honored, and that during all the centuries such exceptions had continued to occur. Only one famous old physician, Dr. James Jackson, told me frankly and politely and in the kindest manner that it would be impossible for him to recognize as a lady any woman who was outside “her sphere.” A similar ostracism was practiced by the Philadelphia County Medical Society against the other medical college for women, the Female Medical College of Pennsylvania, which had been opened in 1850, two years after the New England Female Medical College began under the name of the Boston Female Medical School. But the Philadelphia college had taken the precaution from the beginning to obtain the same legal authority as the male medical colleges for conferring the medical degree. Nevertheless, it led a precarious existence and had to be closed for the session of 1861-1862, and Dr. Ann Preston feared that the institution to which she had given so much time and strength was doomed to succumb to the weight of opposition and the absolute refusal of the male physicians to meet the women physicians in consultation. However, a few of the ablest men disregarded the rules of their society and stood by the women who had just then succeeded in opening their little hospital for women and children. It was not until 1867 that the Philadelphia College could be considered as on a firm basis, but within ten years from that time it produced the first woman ovariotomist in America, Dr. Emeline H. Cleveland, who was resident physician of the Woman’s Hospital after her return from study in Europe, principally in the Maternité in Paris. Thus for me the year of 1860 ended. The college course which began in October had not varied in kind from that of the previous year, though I could note increased personal success in practice as well as in social connections. The year of 1861 began for me in no way differently from the first in Boston. The dispensary practice increased in numbers of patients and also in greater variety and interest. There was an especially large increase in the practice among children and infants, which gave me an insight into the neglect which the latter had to endure when boarded out among ignorant, and often indifferent, families, where the small sum received for the maintenance of these little unfortunate beings was of more consequence than their health and existence. The frequency with which we were required to sign death certificates of infants whom we had seen but a day or two before, and who were then in an almost dying condition, was out of all relation with the number who applied in the early stages of what was then called “cholera infantum.”