medicine and succeeded in making a great name and reputation for himself. He continued to write, however, and completed his commentary on the Talmud. About the age of fifty Maimonides, as seems to be true of a good many men who live to old age, became rather discouraged and despondent about himself. He refers to himself in his letters and writings rather frequently as an old and ailing man. He had nearly twenty years of active life ahead of him, but he had the persuasion that comes to many that he was probably destined to an early death. His son was born shortly after this time, and that seems to have had not a little to do with brightening his life. While in Egypt Maimonides married the sister of one of the royal secretaries, who, in turn, wedded Maimonides' sister. Maimonides took on himself the education of his son, who also became a physician, though his father was not to have the satisfaction of watching his success in the practice of his chosen profession. This son, Abraham, became the physician of Malie Alkamen, the brother of Saladin, and, besides, was a physician to the hospital at Cairo. _His_ son, David, the grandson of Maimonides, practised medicine also at Cairo till 1300. He in turn left two sons, Abraham and Solomon, who achieved reputation in the chosen profession of their great-grandfather. Maimonides, after the birth of his son, became one of the busiest of practising physicians. Indeed, it is hard to understand how he had the time to do any writing in his busy life. Still less can we understand his time for teaching. He was the physician to Saladin, whose relations with Richard Coeur de Lion have made him known to English-speaking people. Every morning, as the Court physician, Maimonides went to the palace, situated half a mile away from his dwelling, and if any of the many officials and dependents that then, as now, were at Oriental courts, were ill, he stayed there for some time. As a rule he could only get back to his own home in the afternoon, and then he was, as he says himself, "almost dying with hunger." Knowing the scantiness of the Oriental breakfast, we are not surprised. There he found his waiting-room full of patients, "Jews and Mohammedans, prominent and unimportant, friends and enemies," he says himself, "a varied crowd, who are looking for my medical advice. There is scarcely time for me to get down from my carriage and wash myself and eat a little, and then until night I am constantly occupied, so that, from sheer exhaustion, I must lie down. Only on the Sabbath day have I the time to occupy myself with my own people and my studies, and so the day is away from me." What a picture it is of the busy medical teacher at all times in the world's history, yet it must not be forgotten that it is from these busy men that we have derived our most precious lessons in caring for patients rather than disease, in the art of medicine rather than medical science--and their practical lessons have been valuable long after the