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in the medical department of University College, which produced on his mind an impression that he was deprived the prospect of further advancement, were unfortunately superadded, and, in a moment of despair, he sought at his own hand, relief from his suffering, and his anxiety. He died in the thirty-seventh year of his age, leaving with his contemporaries the reputation of a talented surgeon, and with his friends the memory of a kind and estimable man.
I should do injustice to the memory of a highly respected member of our profession, were I to omit reference to the late Mr. Pennington, who played no unimportant part in the great medical drama of both the last, and the present century.
Unknown as a writer, and unconnected with public professional life, he pursued a career of almost unexampled activity, in the department of private practice. Warmly attached to the order to which he belonged, I believe it may be said of him, that by no one act did he ever tarnish the lustre of his own high character.
At the age of fifteen, Mr. Pennington left his native town of Alford, in Lincolnshire, in company with the late Archdeacon and Major Pott, the sons of the great surgeon of that name, and they repaired to his house, where Mr. Pennington took up his abode. Mr. Pott, appreciating at its true value the intelligence and earnest zeal of his young friend, took him as a private pupil. In Percival Pott, up to the period of the death of that justly emiment man, Mr. Pennington found a benefactor, an instructor, and a friend.
One is naturally disposed to inquire into the history and
