and valuable additions and annotations. He received numerous literary
and scientific honors from colleges, universities, and learned bodies in
the United States and Europe.

In 1835 he visited Europe for the purpose of resting from his arduous
labors, and spent several years in traveling extensively in England, on
the continent, and in the East. His great achievements had made him as
famous in the Old World as at home, and he was received wherever he went
with great distinction. He was cordially welcomed by the most eminent
surgeons of Paris, and Louis Philippe conceived a warm friendship for
him. During his visit to Constantinople, he was called upon to attend
professionally the reigning Sultan Abdul Medjid, who was suffering from
a tumor in the head. Dr. Mott successfully removed this tumor, and was
afterwards invested by the Sultan with the order of Knight of
Medjidechi, of Constantinople.

During his visit to Paris, a circumstance occurred which he related upon
his return home, and which will serve to show the extremes to which
professional skill and vanity will sometimes carry men. One of the most
eminent surgeons in Paris asked him if he would like to see him perform
his original operation. Dr. Mott replied that nothing would give him
more pleasure. "Then you shall see it to-morrow," said the Frenchman.
"But stay," he added, "now I think of it, there is no patient in the
hospital who has that malady. No matter, my dear friend, there is a poor
devil in ward No. ---- who is of no use to himself or any body else, and
if you'll come to-morrow, I'll operate beautifully on him." Dr. Mott at
once declined to attend the operation or to countenance in any way so
horrible an outrage.

In person Dr. Mott was a thorough gentleman of the old school. He was an
exceedingly handsome man, and was possessed of an erect and
well-developed figure. His hair was as white as snow, and his dress,
which consisted of a simple suit of spotless black, with linen of
matchless purity, was in the most perfect taste. He was grave and
dignified in his deportment, and polished and courteous in every action.
Even in his most difficult and trying operations the services of the
assistants were always promptly acknowledged with scrupulous politeness.
He was possessed of many friends, and was regarded with pride and
veneration by his profession throughout the world.

During the last winter of his life he had lectured once or twice at the
Medical School, and had performed several operations of importance in
his private practice. Although nearly eighty, he was still erect and
vigorous, and was far from considering himself too old for his work.

On the morning of the 15th of April, 1865, he sent for his barber, as
was his custom, and submitted himself to the hands of the man who had
been his attendant in this capacity for years. He was sitting in his
dressing-room, and, being in fine spirits, began conversing with the
barber, who, during the conversation, asked him if he had heard the
terrible news of the day.

"What is the news?" asked the doctor.

"President Lincoln was killed last night at the theater in Washington,"
was the reply.

The doctor turned as pale as death, and, trembling violently, motioned
the barber aside, and tottered into the chamber adjoining, in which his
wife was dressing.

"My dear," he gasped, scarcely able to speak, "I have received such a
shock. President Lincoln has been murdered."

[Illustration: "PRESIDENT LINCOLN HAS BEEN MURDERED!"]

His agitation had now become so great that he could say no more. He sank
down into a chair, pale and trembling, and so feeble that he could
scarcely sit up. He was seized in a short time with acute pains in the
back, and at the same time his vigor seemed to desert him entirely, and
he became a weak and broken old man. He was obliged to seek his bed,
from which he never rose. He grew feebler every day, and died on the
26th of April, 1865.