People were much more ignorant about health than is the case nowadays, when they discuss the unromantic ailments of their interiors with the greatest freedom. Formerly great reticence was observed about such subjects, which no one would have even dreamt of mentioning. Doctors, and the medicine they gave, were still viewed with something of a mysterious awe. In the days when the old Coliseum in Regent’s Park was still in existence, a gentleman came out of his doctor’s in Harley Street, looking very solemn, and met a friend on the doorstep, who said, “What on earth is the matter? You look like the man who lost a sovereign and found sixpence.” “Well,” said the other, “my doctor tells me that I’m not at all the thing. By the way, where is the ‘Perineum’?” “Oh,” replied his friend, “that’s easily answered; straight down Portland Place, and turn to the right, and then you’ll see it in front of you!” At a great party which was given at the India Office during the Sultan’s visit to England in 1867, the wife of the Turkish Ambassador (who was, of course, like most of the Turkish envoys sent to England, a Christian), a lady weighing some twenty-five stone, completely succumbed, being overpowered by the heat. A doctor was present in the room, being in close attendance upon the Sultan, and every one thought that he would at once be sent to revive the enormous and prostrate Ambassadress. Her imperial master, however, instead of thus despatching his medical adviser, whom he kept in close attendance by his side, did not show the slightest desire to dispense even for a moment with his services, but on the contrary, fearing that the excitement consequent upon this unfortunate occurrence would heighten the august temperature, bade the physician keep his hand closely upon the imperial pulse till such time as all inflammatory symptoms should have subsided.