What a terrible night! Hark how the wind moans, like a long wail from some despairing soul shut out in the awful storm! The air is filled with dense clouds of flying snow and sleet chased along by the gale. The trees bend and writhe, and, as if in fear, scratch their boughs upon the roof; the driving flakes beat with an angry, hissing sound upon the window-panes, and for a moment there is a muffled, ominous silence. Now comes a wild and furious gust, and a great white whirlwind sweeps with serpentine contortions past the window and disappears in the thick darkness of the night. Our very walls sway and tremble to their foundation. The clap-boards snap, and some loosened blind is torn from its hinges and hurled as a feather before the raging wind. We hear a crash of breaking glass, the shaking of the old barn doors, and now a frightened neigh, half smothered in the storm. Who would venture out in such a night as this? We shudder at the thought, and yet there is one whose holy sense of duty will see no barrier even in this fierce tempest. Even now he is urging his faithful horse onward through the lonely road, cold and benumbed, but thinking only of the suffering he hopes to relieve. How well I remember the welcome stamping at the front door, the chinking rattle of the tin box sounding nearer and nearer up the stairs, the tall and stately figure entering the room, clad in great-coat reaching nearly to the floor, the genial smile bringing both hope and comfort with its very presence! And what a noble face! the shapely forehead, the snowy tufts of close-cut hair, the magnetic, penetrating eyes, so deep and dark, looking out from beneath the heavy jet-black brows, and the clean-shaven cheeks and chin, of almost child-like bloom, relieved against the whiteness of the stock about the throat! Never before were winter and summer so strangely and beautifully blended in a human face. But we shall see that face no more. Physician, friend, companion, all were laid away with him, and sad indeed was the day that bore him from us. And now, as I look down upon that humble grave, I would that others, with the reverence I feel, might read the sacred epitaph inscribed upon my memory, of one whose only aim through life was the relief of suffering and sorrow. In storm or calm, by day or night, he fulfilled his holy mission. And when the fearful scourge swept o’er the town, and filled its homes with woe; when friends deserted friends, and brothers left their kin, this noble soul sought out the sick and dying, cared tenderly for their sufferings until the end, and even laid the dead away alone. A life of sacrifice, for rich or poor alike, without a thought of self. Professing no religious faith--yea, _doubting_ even; but finding in the precept of the “golden rule” an inspiration worthy the devotion and the effort of his life: “By their _fruits_ ye shall know them.” [Illustration: THE GOOD PHYSICIAN.]