There were three things I should say the Doctor did not like. One of these was the newspaper reporter who tried to get "inside" information when some especially prominent person happened to be a patient of his. This was not just a simple, single-sided dislike which the Doctor felt, either. The idea of any physician inviting press publicity was bad enough, but the idea of any physician telling the public about the private affairs of a patient was--well--. I happened one day to be with the Doctor when a reporter approached on such an errand, so I know quite well how the Doctor felt on this subject, and I am inclined to believe the reporter must also have carried away some impression of it. The other two things the Doctor seemed to dislike were writing medical papers and speaking in public; anything, in short, which might by any chance give an impression of putting himself forward, was distasteful to him. As for display of any sort, any external polishing, for the purpose of appearing prosperous and thus inviting prosperity, would have been to Dr. Janeway utterly impossible. As far as personal success and advancement went, I am convinced his mind was never concerned beyond that measure of reward which might openly be balanced against actual attainment and actual ability. What a sorrowful satisfaction that would be for many of us! X Now that these few ingredients of Dr. Janeway's greatness, which have come out of memory to mind, have found their way to paper, it is hoped they may not wholly miss their mark. Incomplete though the picture is, it should carry some clue to the character of the man who made the profession of medicine a finer and a better profession for his having been in it. To bring into any walk of life so much talent and truth, so much candour and courage, and withal, such simplicity and sincerity, is to leave it raised to a higher level for all time. Such lives need no tribute to their memory. On the contrary, they levy an unforgettable tax on all who would live on by lower standards. To those whose minds can grasp the general disorder in which we try to live--the moral indirection of our everyday endeavour to get somewhere, this day toward a gilded goal, tomorrow toward the promise of fame, the day after seeking applause for our benevolence, or one after one thing, another after another thing, and hardly any one after anything that counts--it is to these that this man's unaffected, unselfish, upbuilding life must come as a strong and refreshing draught of reality. A life worth knowing about for those with ideals; a life to study for those who are sincere; a life with a lesson for every student of medicine.