articulation. If my memory serves me right, at this late date, the opening was enlarged and some fragments of bone extracted. The injury was so high up as to preclude amputation of the thigh, and the verdict of other surgeons and myself was that if amputation was performed at all it would have to be at the hip joint.

At that time, as you all know, a hip-joint amputation was regarded as a very heroic measure, and scarcely justifiable under any but extraordinary conditions, and especially so did this seem to me in a field infirmary with miles of ambulance and railroad transportation to the nearest hospital. Besides that I was young and relatively inexperienced, and naturally distrusted my ability to tackle anything so formidable as such a serious capital operation, especially under the existing conditions. More than that, I had been trained along casuistic lines by a pious mother of the good old Presbyterian faith, to practice the "Golden Rule," at all times and under all circumstances, in my associations with my fellow-men in this life; supplemented by the injunction of one of my earliest teachers, the illustrious surgeon, Warren Stone, of New Orleans, who was accustomed to say to his classes: "Young gentlemen, when you go forth into the world to practice your profession, and have lying before you a helpless, suffering human being who looks to you and you alone, and depends absolutely upon you for succor in his helpless state of distress, do unto him exactly what you would have him do unto you if your conditions were reversed."

Well, my private opinion at the time, although unexpressed, but nevertheless in full force, was, that if I, A. A. Lyon, a surgeon of the Forty-eighth Mississippi Regiment, had that shattered limb hung to me, no callow army surgeon should try his neophytic hand on my anatomy. And in addition, to be perfectly frank, I was only too glad to hide behind this lofty casuistical bulwark, from a sneaking suspicion that had I attempted this job I probably would have left a dead man on the table, with my star, up to this time in the ascendent, suddenly dimmed and in a sad state of decadence, sinking behind a very black cloud. No, I would not amputate at the hip-joint; rather than

this, I would splint and bandage the member, send C. to Richmond, to the care of the hospital surgeons there, and more especially to the care of a beneficent Providence, for I did not believe the doctors would be able to do him much good.

This I did. As carefully and skilfully as possible I placed the sadly wounded limb in splints and bandages made the poor fellow as comfortable as I could, or rather I should possibly say, as little uncomfortable as I could, shoved him into an ambulance, and sent him to the nearest railroad station for transportation to Chimborazo or Winder Hospital, in the Capital City.

Perhaps I breathed a prayer for the well-being and recovery of poor C., but of this I am not certain; but it is certain that I had scarcely a hope for a favorable issue in this case, and felt when the poor boy passed out of my sight that he had gone forever.

Amid the stirring scenes then upon us, soon followed by the great and disastrous invasion of Pennsylvania, C. measurably passed out of my mind, and I heard nothing from him. Some six months later, more or less, I was surprised and greatly delighted to see him return to camp; he was dressed in new homespun clothes, looking well fed and fat, and in a perfect state of restoration, barring at least six or eight inches that originally contributed to the length of his leg. With the aid of one crutch he got around with comparative ease and comfort.

As stated, I lost sight of him after he left the battlefield of Chancellorsville. He reported, however, that he lay several months in the hospital at Richmond, and gradually recovered without any special operation, and then went home on furlough, and later came back to Virginia. I do not remember now whether he remained in the service on detached or post duty, or was retired or discharged; but such as I have here given is a true history of this case.

Now, Mr. President and Gentlemen, you will of course not understand me as exploiting this case as an illustration of my skill in surgery; it was a demonstration clearly of the vis medicatrix naturæ, the opportunity being afforded by the conjoined

influences of timidity on the part of a young doctor, blended with the conviction that the Almighty could do more for this poor fellow than I could. I believe the sequel proved the wisdom of my conclusion, for had I yielded to a heartless ambition or pride of self-sufficiency, and performed the amputation that the rigid demands of military surgery seemed to call for, or would at least have justified, that poor boy's body would long since have been mingled with the dust of Old Virginia.

Now, of course, gentlemen, the action taken in this case must not be adopted as an unvarying precedent in practice, but it does serve in large measure to illustrate the wonderful recuperative power of nature, and should at least serve, in part, to encourage us to pause in the presence of unpromising operative interference, rather than to precipitately proceed with almost certain death staring us in the face. How many hapless human beings have thus been sent to a premature grave, no man can tell.

Obituary.

WM. J. McMURRAY, M. D.

DR. MCMURRAY was born in Williamson Co., Tenn., Sept, 22, 1842. His father was John McMurray, a school-teacher, and his grandfather Sam McMurray, one of the pioneer settlers of the Cumberland Valley section, and was killed by the Indians near Donaldson Station, March, 1792.

John McMurray died when his oldest son William was only ten years of age, but he with that true, indomitable courage that marked his whole life bravely took upon himself the arduous duties of aiding his widowed mother in caring for the younger children, six in number. The work on a farm afforded but limited means of obtaining an education, which he only completed after the close of the war between the States. He became a member of Company B, Twentieth Tennessee Regiment of Infantry at its organization, as a private, was made corporal in Oc

tober, 1861, and two months later second sergeant, serving most of the remainder of the first year as Orderly Sergeant. At the re-organization of the Twentieth, just after the battle of Shiloh, he was made second lieutenant of his company, and promoted to first lieutenant in 1864. He was wounded severely four times, losing his left arm near the shoulder on the 5th of Aug., 1864, in front of Atlanta. On two previous occasions he was so severely wounded that he was left on the field for dead. After recovery

from the wound occasioning the loss of his arm, he was assigned to post duty until the close of the war, being paroled with Forrest's command at Marion, Ala., May 17, 1865.

Returning home he completed his education, taught school for a short time, and commenced the study of medicine, graduating with honor at the Medical Department of the University of Nashville in 1869, and practiced first near Nashville, moving into the city in 1872. He was for a number of years physician to the County Jail. In 1874 a member of the City Board of Health, and 1876 a member of the Board of Aldermen. He was one of the Charter Members of Frank Cheatham Bivouac, one term its President. He was one of the first members of the Board of Trustees of the Confederate Soldiers' Home, and remained on the Board as one of the Executive Committee or President of the Board until his death. He was physician to the Tennessee Industrial School for twelve years. He was appointed a member of the State Board of Health in 1897, remaining on the Board until his death, being then President of the Board. He was a member of the Nashville Academy of Medicine and of the Tennessee State Medical Association; a member of the Tennessee Historical Society, and chairman of its Historical Committee. He was a member of the Elm Street Methodist Church. He wrote the sketch of the Twentieth Tennessee Regiment in Lindsley's "Military Annals of Tennessee." He had been for ten years Surgeon-General of the corps of Confederate Veterans commanded by Gen. S. D. Lee. He was chairman of the Committee of Publication of the "History of the Twentieth Tennessee Regiment," and was a most earnest and sincere worker in the interests of the Confederate soldier.

In 1873 he married Miss Francis M. McCampbell, a daughter of Hon. Thos. G. McCampbell, State senator in 1845. She with an only daughter, Mrs. C. L. Ridley, Jr., survive him. He became an Associate Member of the Association of Medical Officers of the Army and Navy of the Confederacy in 1900. He was true and trusty as a citizen, brave as a soldier, and brave in the hour. of his death, which resulted from a brief attack of pneumonia, at his residence in Nashville, Dec. 4, 1905.

He was buried at Mt. Olivet, with military honors, rendered by his comrades of Frank Cheatham Bivouac, and Company B Confederate Veterans, on the Wednesday following.

From the Nashville Journal of Medicine and Surgery, Dec., 1905, we quote :—

"The sudden and unexpected death from pneumonia of this distinguished member of our profession, which took place in December, has cast a gloom over his fellow-practitioners of this city, and spread sorrow among his large clientele. Dr. McMurray was a successful and laborious practitioner. He was a progressive, public-spirited citizen, and one who was always to the fore when matters that involved the interests of the city were at stake. He was an ardent ex-Confederate, and no one did more than he to commemorate the brave deeds of his fellow comrades in the late war. He was at the time of his death President of the State Board of Health, and his death will be a distinct loss to that distinguished body. We are sure the entire body of practitioners in the city of Nashville will join us in deploring his removal, and in laying this tribute, all too brief and imperfect, before our readers. His life was one of great usefulness. His death was a distinct loss."

EDWARD A. COBLEIGH, M. D.

EDWARD A. COBLEIGH, M. D., Atlanta (Ga.) Medical College, 1872; A. M., LL. D.; one of the founders and dean of the Chattanooga Medical College (Medical Department of Grant University), Chattanooga; professor of the principles and practice of medicine, dermatology, and clinical medicine, and lecturer on