It will be our endeavour to point out the position occupied by Abernethy, in that (as we trust) gradually dawning science, to a particular phase of which our object and our limits will alike restrict our attention. We mean that period when Surgery, having approached to something like a zenith as a mere practical _art_, began to exhibit, by slow and almost imperceptible degrees, some faint characters of science—a shadowy commencement of a metamorphose, which we believe promises to convert (though we fear at a period yet distant) a monstrous hybrid of mystery and conjecture into the symmetrical beauty of an Inductive science—a science based on axioms and laws which are constantly exerting a powerful influence on the social progress and the health of nations. In considering Hunter and Abernethy, we shall see not only a remarkable adaptation for the tasks in which they were respectively engaged, but also how the peculiar defects of the one were supplied by the characteristic excellences of the other. We shall see that they cooperated in laying open clear and definite objects; and that, though their modes of inquiry were far from fulfilling the requisitions of an Inductive science, they were eminently calculated to suggest the convenience, and impress the necessity of it. We no sooner begin to inquire with clear and definite purpose, than we are led to the means necessary for the attainment of it. Abernethy himself, in speaking of the ordinary resources of daily practice, used to say: "If a man has a clear idea of what he desires to do, he will seldom fail in selecting the proper means of accomplishing it." So, in gathering the materials for building up a science, the first thing is, to be clear as to those things in which it is deficient. This once determined, all may lend assistance; and this very division of labour, when directed with definite purpose, may render even men most addicted to narrow and partial inquiries, contributors to a great and common object. In this way, those blows and discouragements so common in the infancy of science, which test our motives and try our patience, may prove tolerable when distributed over the many, instead of proving, as is too common, depressing or destructive when bearing only on the efforts of the few. If we desire to shorten this labour, we need scarcely say there is no way of doing it but by the adoption of that mode of proceeding to which every other branch of science owes its present position. I mean the rigid suspension of all hypotheses, setting to work by collecting _all_ the facts in relation to the subject, and dealing with them in strict compliance with the precepts of common sense—or, what is the same thing, Inductive philosophy. This will soon show us the just amount of the debt we owe to Hunter and Abernethy; and, in leading us onwards, instructively point out why these great men did not farther increase our obligations.