This is, without doubt, true, as he said, of the "greater part," but it is not true of all; for our meeting here to-day is an assertion that there is, at least, one who has not yet found his grave in our vanishing powers of recollection; but whose life, unburied, still breathes in the lives of living, acting men.
It is not of the sorrows and "unavailing tears" that were shed, nearly two hundred and thirty years ago, over Harvey's grave, that it behoves me now to speak; but rather of the fact that nearly three centuries have passed since he became a part of this College; and yet, that only last year, on the eighteenth day of October, our College repaired to his grave in Hempstead, to do honour to his memory; and with gratitude and gladness to assert, as we do again to-day, that he still lives in his survivors;" and that, although the knells of three hundred and six years have been tolled since Harvey's life began, he, at the present hour is neither dead nor sleeping.
I. Let me ask you, for a few moments, to think over that act of last year. It is not meet to call it a ceremony" or "performance," for those words may have a doubtful meaning. It was a something done; and that with purpose. It was done with reverence and solemnity, and fitting formal circumstance. The like of it has not often been seen in this country. It was simple, but it told of much complex thought and feeling. It was grave, but it was not sad; it was official, but it was not heartless. It was unnecessary, but it was urgent; was a duty to the remains of Harvey, but it was also an honour to ourselves. Its voice could not provoke the silent dust," but its tone-not that of "flattery" to "soothe the dull, cold ear of death"-was such as could stir the now living "ear" and heart, and quicken the still acting brain. <<
