popularity. He seemed to feel as if he mentally expressed himself thus: 'Here I am ready to give you my advice, if you want it but you must take it as you find it ; and if you don't like it, egad (his favourite word), you may go about your business-I don't want to have anything to do with you: hold your tongue, and be off.' In some such mood as this, he received a visit from a lady, one day, who was well acquainted with his invincible repugnance to her sex's predominant disposition, and therefore forebore speaking but simply in reply to his laconic queries. The consultation was conducted, during three visits, in the following manner :

"First Day.- (Lady enters and holds out her finger.) Abernethy.-Cut ?' Lady.Bite.' A.-'Dog?' L.

'Parrot.' A. Go home and poultice it.'

A.-'Better?'

"Second Day.-(Finger held out again.) L.-Worse.' A.- Go home and poultice it again.'

"Third Day.-(Finger held out as before.) A. 'Better?' L.-Well.' A.-You're the most sensible woman I ever met with. Good-by. Get out.'

"Another lady, having scalded her arm, called at the usual hour to show it, three successive days, when similar laconic conversations took place:

"First Day.-(Patient, exposing the arm, says :)- Burnt. A.I see it;' and having prescribed a lotion, she departs. "Second Day. (Patient shows the arm, and says:) 'Better.' A.-'I know it.'

"Third Day.-(Again showing the arm.) P. 'Well.' A. Any fool can tell that. What d'ye come again for? Get away.""

There are several distinct varieties among the medical profession; such as the following: first, the silent doctor, who is evidently a lover of creature comforts, and whose taciturn, dignified, and mysterious deportment passes current with the unsuspecting for profound wisdom. He ingeniously manages to secure the greatest number of patients with the fewest possible words. The silent doctor is a great favourite with the fair sex; they regard him as Coleridge did his quondam

acquaintance of dumpling celebrity, and think that as stillest streams are ofttimes the deepest, so there must be something intensely fascinating in the said doctor if it only could be discovered. Everybody knows, too, how each individual woman believes herself endowed by nature with peculiar faculties for discovering the occult, for unravelling the mysterious; and who more mysterious than the silent doctor?

"But, leaving him now in their safe keeping, our next illustration shall be of the sceptical doctor. Though confessedly against his interest, he is very slow to believe that anything is the matter with anybody. If people are resolved to be quacked, he finds a bread-pill, to be taken four times a day-a safe and wholesome remedy. Still, though mortally averse to old women and nervous invalids, when there is real suffering, the sceptical doctor feels keenly, all the more, perhaps, from his efforts to conceal it.

"Of all others, perhaps, the most provoking is the talkative doctor. Well versed in almost every subject, fond of literature, of politics, and of science, it is difficult to keep him to the point, and obtain any definite opinion or practical advice from him. Quite forgetful that you are in actual pain or grievous discomfiture, a single hint or remote allusion is sufficient to draw forth a learned discussion on ancient or mediæval art, or the marbles of Nineveh. He will harangue on the authenticity of Rowley, or the author of Junius: there is no subject which he cannot render interesting to every one but the poor patient who needs more philosophy than he has ever dreamed of to bear patiently with it all!

a common specimen, but Take a drive with him some however cheerily you start,

"The morbid doctor is not occasionally he may be met with. fine morning in his chaise, and depend upon it you will come home moping. The morbid doctor sees disease and death before him at every turning. At each corner a death's-head stares him in the face. gaunt, grim figure, the embodiment of all diseases, sits at his elbow. It would be hard to say how many functional disorders have become organic through his treatment of them. If the

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morbid doctor pronounces a complaint fatal, how can the patient doubt?

"Some people find great difficulty in choosing their medical attendant. 'How,' say they, can we ascertain the real standing a man holds in his profession? A large practice is not a criterion; the courting, canting, quack will sometimes secure it, or mere manners will be against it; the public may be deceived; from his medical brethren we can learn nothing. How, then, is the truth to be ascertained ?'

"All we can say in reply is, that in this, as in most other things, people must employ common sense an invaluable quality at all times, and especially needful in choosing a doctor. If you find a medical man shallow on general subjects, or wanting in clearness of perception, he is not likely to be very logical or very deep with regard to his profession. If you find him boasting, bustling, and pompous-disposed to talk of the variety of his engagements, and the value in which his opinion is held, are you not free to regard him as you would any other man who puts forth the same pretensions? At the same time be not carping or suspicious. Medical men are altogether, perhaps, the most valuable members of society; their sphere of usefulness is exceeded by none. A word spoken in season is doubly valued when falling from the lips of those who have ministered to our bodily necessities, and what influence may they not exert in our families! In sickness and by the bed of death, chords may be touched which will never cease to vibrate; love and domestic union may take the place of coldness and neglect; and the family doctor may prove of immense service as the family adviser.”*

Altogether, the medical profession, though arduous in the extreme, is very noble; and few, we believe, who have entered upon it would be willing to change it for any other. The variety of learning it requires, the constant accession of new truths, the full, anxious, but interesting occupation it affords to the mind, renders it absolutely absorbing and exciting.

*Chambers' Journal.

Add to this the society of all kinds into which the medical man is thrown, the knowledge of human nature he acquires thereby, the many beautiful traits of domestic affection and woman's love which pass daily before him, the gratitude of some hearts, the cordial friendship of others, the respect to be attained from all-and it will scarcely be denied that the practice of medicine is one of the most interesting and delightful, as well as responsible, of all professions.

In fine, since there is a sacredness in the trust confided to the professor of the healing art, a corresponding fidelity to its claims and responsibilities is indispensably requisite; and, consequently, he who is recklessly indifferent to these is guilty of the highest style of crime, in a wanton betrayal of the faith reposed in him.

THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS.

"The shadow on the dial's face,
That steals, from day to day,

With slow, unseen, unceasing pace,

Moments, and months, and years away;

This shadow, which, in every clime,

Since light and motion first began,
Hath held its course sublime."

If

THE topic we have chosen for the present chapter is so intangible, that the moment we essay to grasp it, it is gone. Although impalpable it is yet real, for, like the circumambient atmosphere, it is ever present with us, although unseen. we attempt to symbolise it, we fail fully to portray it, and yet images are its only mode of illustration. It is both the longest and the shortest, the swiftest and the slowest; the most divisible and the most indivisible; the most regretted and the least valued; without which nothing can be done; yet, that which devours everything, and gives existence to everything. It is the most paradoxical, yet the simplest of elements. Strictly speaking, it is never palpable, yet it is ever present; a constant succession, an unfathomable duration; the most momentous benefactor to man, yet seldom estimated according to its worth.

It is the account current with all, in which more are found bankrupt than wealthy, when the balance-sheet is demanded. It marks the rising and the setting sun, spreads over us the black veil of night, and gilds with gladness the face of day; it rolls on the revolving seasons, chronicling the deeds of centuries; watching over the birth of infancy, the ardent

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