The absurd idea that he looked chiefly to the stomach—that he thought of nothing but blue pills or alterative doses of mercury—need scarcely detain us. His works show, and his lectures still more, that there was no organ in the body which had not been the object of his special attention; in almost all cases, in advance of his time; and not exceeded in practical value by any thing now done. We know of nothing more valuable or clear _now_ than his paper on the skin; nothing so advanced or important as his observations on the lungs and skin, and the relations of these important organs; and it is unnecessary to repeat what has been already said about the digestive organs. His medical treatment was always very simple, and, if its more salient object was to correct disorders of the liver, it was because he knew that the important relations of that organ not only rendered it very frequently the cause of many disorders, but that there could be nothing materially wrong in the animal economy, by which it must not be more or less affected. He carried the same clearness and definiteness of purpose into his prescriptions, as that which characterized all his investigations; and, indisposed to employ any means except on some principle, used but few remedies; although he by no means wished to deter others from having recourse to a more extended pharmacopæia. We regret, indeed, the impossibility of doing full justice to Abernethy in any thing less than a running commentary on the publication of his works; but we have said enough, we trust, to show how largely the profession and mankind are indebted to him. Now, in these days of testimonials, what memorials have we of Abernethy? It is true there is no monument at Westminster Abbey, and only a bust at St. Bartholomew's. His portrait, to be sure, given by his pupils, hangs at St. Bartholomew's, exalted where it can hardly be distinctly seen, to be replaced by those of Mr. Vincent[83], and Mr. Lawrence in his Professor's gown! But he has still a "Monumentum ære perennius," in the claim he has established to the rarely so truly earned honour of "nihil quod non tetigit, et nihil quod tetigit, quod non ornavit;" in the grateful hearts of many a pupil who had no other obligation to him than his beautiful lessons; and in an improved medical Surgery, which, though it may have in _London_ rather retrograded than otherwise since his time, is felt more or less in its moral as well as its medical bearings, and in a diminution of suffering and an improved practice throughout the civilized world.