One of Liston’s striking exhibitions of decision and invention occurred during an amputation of the thigh by Russell, then Professor of Clinical Surgery at Edinburgh. An artery in the cut bone bled profusely, and in consequence of its bony surroundings could not be tied in the ordinary way. Liston with the amputating-knife at once cut off a chip of wood from the operating table, formed it into a cone, and drove it into the bleeding orifice, and in this way immediately arrested the bleeding.[2] Liston’s general principles of treatment are also worthy of note, as he exercised by their means a considerable influence on the profession. He early became alive to the unwisdom of over-treatment, and tended more and more to trust to natural recuperative powers. He was thus enabled to dispense with the multitudinous paraphernalia which surrounded the operating surgeon, the repeated poulticing, strapping, bandaging, anointing, which often rendered a stay in a surgical ward almost intolerable. On the death of Sir Anthony Carlisle in 1840, Liston was elected to the Council of the Royal College of Surgeons, but did not become one of the Examiners until March 1846. There is little doubt that he would before long have attained the Presidency of the College, had not his career been cut short. His practice became very large, and there is no doubt that he undertook an amount of work which many men would have found impossible. Yet he was noted for his consideration of the poor and necessitous. It was remarked in the _Times_ after his death that “his nature abhorred everything sordid, and no man ever was more strongly impressed with the feelings of an honourable, generous, and independent practitioner. In whatever rank of life the ‘case’ occurred, if it was one of difficulty or interest, this master of his art was ready with the potent spell of his unerring bistoury, and his reward was in the consciousness of his own power, and in the noble pride of having been ministrant to the relief of suffering humanity. His manner in ordinary society was sometimes complained of as harsh or abrupt, and he certainly was occasionally neglectful of the mere trifling courtesies of life, and sometimes careless of refinement or punctilio. He was a man of thought more than of show. He could not bear triflers, and he did not always avoid showing his distaste. He was a fervid lover of truth and sincerity, and sometimes, perhaps, expressed himself too strongly when he thought there lurked any meanness or deceit or affectation. But in the proper and trying scene of the labours of the medical man—in the chamber of the sick—he was gentle as he was resolute. He never had a patient who was not anxious to become a friend, and the voice which was sometimes discordant amid the petty annoyances of daily life was music to the sick man’s ear. Into the scene of suffering he never brought a harsh word or an unkind look, and the hand which was hard as iron and true