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 beds. Visited the wards of Roux;1 a very distinguished surgeon, who was making his morning circuit. Students followed in his train from bed to bed, and observed his examination of each patient, some of them taking notes of the results of the examination. Here I saw wretchedness indeed, in the shape of sores of all kinds and broken limbs, which made me shudder. Roux appeared to be about fifty years old, rather stout and of a robust appearance, but of about the common height. He was quick in his speech, and seemed to be quite passionate. He was scolding right lustily one of the students attached to the hospital, who was tardy. He did not always address the patients in the mildest terms. From this set of wards we passed to the wards of Louis,2 where were patients who required simply medical treatment, or rather whose complaints were internal. Louis is considered the great medical light of the age. He has revolutionized, perhaps, the study of medicine, by introducing the study of particular cases, and combining them and arriving at general results with regard to the nature of different diseases. He has devoted himself with great zeal to the hospitals, and accumulated a vast deal of knowledge from his minute observation of a great number of cases. His manner of examining a patient is said to be admirable. He is a tall man, with a countenance that seems quite passive. His questions to the patients were numerous and rapid. After this examination was over, the students descended to a lecture room in the Hotel Dieu, where Louis gave a lecture (clinical) on two or three of the cases which they had observed upstairs. I was able to understand but little. It was spoken of as an admirable lecture. Louis is not a professor, but delivers lectures at his hospital gratuitously and for the mere love of science,—sua sponte. From this lecture room I passed to the operating room; the operations were by Roux. Received to-day a letter from Hillard,—my first token from Boston since I left. It is to me like the leaf of olive in the mouth of the dove. In the midst of the satiety which Paris affords, I hunger for news of home. Feb. 1 (Thursday). Took the eldest son of Madame, with whom I board, —lad of fifteen years,—as my companion in my walks, for the sake of having somebody with whom to talk French; and made my first excursion to-day through the Faubourg St. Germain, the residence of the nobility and the wealthy of France, to the Hotel des Invalides, the retreat of broken-down soldiers,—the Greenwich of France. The establishment is vast and splendid beyond the imagination of an American, and betokens the munificence of its ambitious founder, Louis XIV. Here was a kitchen, where carrots were preparing for some fricassee, which seemed large enough for an army. Feb. 2. Visited for a few moments the other side of the Seine, and returned to my French. Feb. 3. At eight o'clock this morning visited the church of the Sorbonne, which is only open at this early hour; heard a priest in the rich
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