In general, our own experience—and we know something of indisposition in our own person—has induced us to judge favourably of the manner of medical men. There are, no doubt, exceptions, and sometimes in men in whom you would least expect it. We have known men "eye" a patient, as if looking at some minute object; some, jocosely familiar. One man has an absurd gravity; another thinks he must be all smiles. We have known, too, the adoption of a tone characterized by a sort of religious solemnity. These, when assumed, are generally detected, and of course always vulgar. Some even say really rude and unfeeling things, before any thing has happened to provoke them. We attended a gentleman who had a great deal of dry humour, and who was very amusing on such matters. One morning, he said, "I saw Dr. —— on one occasion, and the first thing he said to me I thought he might as well have omitted. 'I see, sir,' said he, 'that you have taken the shine out of your constitution.'" Abernethy's manner was at times—always, in serious cases, and, so far as we ever observed, to hospital patients—invariably, as unaffectedly, kind as could be desired. It is too true that, on many occasions of minor import, that impulsiveness of character which we have seen in the boy, was still uncontrolled in the man, and led him to say things which, however we may palliate, we shall not attempt to excuse. It is true his roughness was very superficial; it was the easiest thing in the world to develop the real kindness of heart which constantly lay beneath it; and it is very instructive to observe how a _very little yielding_ to an infirmity may occasionally obscure one of the most benevolent hearts that ever beat in a human breast, with the repulsive exterior of ungentle manners. Still, patients could not be expected to know this; and therefore too many went away dissatisfied, if not disgusted. The slightest reaction was, in general, sufficient to bring him to his self-possession. A lady, whom he had seen on former occasions, was one day exceedingly hurt by his manner, and burst into tears. He immediately became as kind and patient as possible, and the lady came away just as pleased as she had been at first offended. Reaction of a different kind would answer equally well. One day, a gentleman consulted him on a painful affection of his shoulder, which had been of a very excruciating character. Before he had time to enter on his case, Abernethy said, "Well, I know nothing about it." The gentleman sharply retorted: "I do not know how you should; but if you will have patience till I tell you, perhaps you then may." Abernethy at once said, "Sit down;" and heard him out, with the greatest kindness and patience. I am indebted to Thomas Chevasse, Esq. of Sutton Coldfield, Warwick, for the following letter to a patient in Surrey, who had complained that he did not receive any sympathy from him. "Dear Sir,