Mankind have long established, by universal consent, the great importance of "Manner." It has been so ably and so variously discussed by different writers, that it is next to impossible to say any thing new on the subject, or what has not been even better said on the subject already. Still it is equally true that it is a thing very much less cultivated than its influence demands; so that really easy, good manners continue to be a very rare and enviable possession. But if manner be thus influential in the ordinary intercourse of life, it is still more important in ministering to disease. People, when they are ill, have, for the wisest purposes, their susceptibilities more vivid; and it is happy for them when those in health have their sympathies—as is natural, we think, that they should be—quickened in proportion. No doubt it is a great subtraction from whatever benefit the most skilful can confer, if it be administered in a dry, cold, unfeeling, or otherwise repulsive manner. There is too a very sound _physiological_ as well as _moral_ reason for kindness. It is difficult to overrate the value of that calm which is sometimes diffused over the whole system by the impression that there is an unaffected sympathy in our sufferings. We have of course, in our time, observed abundant varieties of manner in our professional brethren; and we have often listened with interest to conversations in society, in which the manners of various medical men have been the subject of discussion, from which good listeners might, we think, have often taken valuable lessons. We are convinced that the disguise, worn by some, of an artificial manner, leaves, on many occasions, no one more deceived than the wearer. Many patients have their perceptions remarkably quickened by indisposition, and will penetrate the thin veil of any form of affectation much more readily than people imagine. In common language, good feeling and kind manner are said to spring from the heart. If a man feels kindly, he will rarely express himself otherwise, except under some momentary impulse of impatience or indisposition. There is no doubt that the secret of a kind and conciliatory manner consists in the regulation of the feelings, and in carrying into the most ordinary affairs of life that principle which we acknowledge as indispensable in serious matters—of doing to others as we would they should do to us. We are not speaking of a _polished_ manner; that is another affair. A man's manner to a patient may be unpolished, or as homely as you please; but if he really feels a sympathy for his patient, it will, with the exception to be stated, never be coarse or unkind. Some men are absurdly pompous; others, hard and cold; some put on a drawling, maudlin tone, which the most superficial observer detects as being affected. An honest sympathy is more acceptable than even a polished manner; though doubtless that is a very desirable grace to a learned profession.