One of the most vital flaws in the business sense of the general practitioner is his penchant for hero worship. He hears of the medical tin god from afar, and burns incense on the altar of his greatness. The great man pats the humble doctor on the back, calls him a good boy, and tells him just where to take all his cases. Sometimes he offers to divide fees with him. The medical tin god is truly a “self-made man in love with his maker.” He has “genius stamped upon his brow—writ there by himself.” His evolution is interesting. It is 24history repeating itself: Apsethus the Libyan wished to become a god. Despairing of doing so, he did the next best thing—he made people believe he was a god. He captured a large number of parrots in the Libyan forests and confined them in cages. Day after day he taught them to repeat, “Apsethus the Libyan is a god,” over and over again. The parrots’ lesson learned, Apsethus set them free. They flew far away, even into Greece. And people coming to view the strange birds, heard them say, “Apsethus the Libyan is a god; Apsethus the Libyan is a god.” And the people cried, “Apsethus the Libyan is a god; let us worship Apsethus the Libyan.” Thus was founded the first post-graduate school. The medical Apsethus and the deluded parrots of the medical rank and file are here, and here to stay, until both are starved out. And the modest general practitioner looks up to the medical tin god and wonders “upon what meat does this our Cæsar feed that he hath grown so great?” The meat of industry? Perhaps. The meat of prodigious cerebral development? Seldom. The meat of opportunity? Yea, yea, my struggling brother, “and the devil take the hindmost.” But, more than all, he hath fed on the meat that the parrots have brought him—Elijah’s ravens were not a circumstance to those parrots. “In the kingdom of the blind the one-eyed man is king.” How long will the general practitioner continue to play parrot to the medical tin god of the charitable hospital the very existence of which is a menace to the best interests of the profession—the profession for which the institution has no charity? In that happy time to be there 25will be no tin gods. There will be a more equable division of work and every prosperous community will have its up-to-date private hospitals with up-to-date men at the head of them.