As a teacher Addison was impressive and popular. His interest in his class was genuine and unfeigned; he was eager to draw out the talents of his students. Among his pupils were Dr. Golding Bird, too early called from his brilliant career, Sir William Gull, Dr. Wilks, and many others of note. His clinical teaching in the wards was especially superior. He could most vividly illustrate on the patient, and most clearly define and demonstrate his disease. He disliked anything like interference with his methods by others, and sometimes showed it somewhat brusquely. Once when he had been away from his wards for a few days, a colleague had seen reason to change his treatment of a case of pleurisy. On Addison’s return, he at once inquired the reason, and was told that the physician in charge believed the case to be one of pneumonia and solidification of the lung. “Ah indeed!” said Addison, “give me a trocar;” and he immediately plunged the little instrument into the chest, and drew off a few ounces of fluid, proving the accuracy of his own diagnosis. He wasted no time in considering or discussing probabilities; he was certain, and he proved that he was right. Dr. Wilks’ view of Addison’s character, in the collected edition of his works published by the New Sydenham Society, 1868, is so pertinent that it must find a place in any adequate account of Addison:— “His strong, positive, and perpetual insistence upon the term ‘practical,’ in reference to disease, constitutes, indeed, the key to Addison’s character and professional career. He was always ready to discuss newly-started theories, but he never for a moment allowed them to interfere with the results of his matured experience. Possessing unusually vigorous perceptive powers, being shrewd and sagacious beyond the average of men, the patient before him was scanned with a penetrating glance, from which few diseases could escape detection. He never reasoned from a half-discovered fact, but would remain at the bedside, with a dogged determination to track out the disease to its very source, for a period which constantly wearied his class and his attendant friends. So severely did he tax his mind with the minutest details bearing upon the exact exposition of a case, that he has been known to startle the ‘sister’ of the ward in the middle of the night by his presence; after going to bed with the case present to his mind, some point of what he considered important detail in reference to it occurred to him, and he could not rest till he had cleared it up. He has also been known, after seeing a patient within the radius of eight or ten miles, to have remembered on his near approach to London, thinking over the case on his way, that he had omitted some seemingly important inquiry, and to have posted back some miles for the purpose of satisfying his mind on the doubt which had occurred to it. If at last he could lay his finger on the disease, his victory was attained, and his