We may well, therefore, be dissatisfied with the narrow, not to say degrading, definition of our duties too generally entertained; but, on the other hand, if we would realize our claims to these higher views of our calling, and enlarge the sphere of its practical usefulness, we should recollect there is only one way of attaining that object; and that is, by the applied interpretation of those symbols, no less miraculous, no less certain manifestations of Divine Power, the "Laws of Nature." To name a science from something not essential to it, is like naming a class of animals from some exceptional peculiarity in an individual. It is as if we would infer the mission of the ocean wave from the scum sometimes seen on its surface; or the purposes served by a feather, from the use we make of it in writing, rather than from its common character of levity and toughness; as if we treated an exception as a rule, or any other manifest absurdity. We have no opportunity of entering more fully into this important distinction of the more lofty objects of our profession, as contrasted with those usually assigned to it; we must therefore rest satisfied in having awakened the reader's attention to the subject, and proceed to the more ordinary objects of Biographical Memoir. John Abernethy was born in London, in the parish of St. Stephen's, Coleman Street, on the 3rd of April, 1764, exactly one year after John Hunter settled in London. It is also interesting to remark, that Abernethy's first work, his "Surgical and Physiological Essays"—Part I—was published the same year that Hunter died, 1793; so that, whilst his birth occurred nearly at the same time as the commencement of the more sustained investigations of Hunter, his opening contribution to science was coincident with the close of the labours of his illustrious friend and predecessor.