His private conversation was both instructive and amusing; he was full of humorous anecdotes, which he told in a quiet, and irresistibly droll style; and when he laughed, his goodnatured face laughed in every feature.[1] His anecdotes were never given in set form, but were elicited by some circumstance or other which might happen to suggest them. Once, when a friend of ours related at dinner some of the economical measures of an odd old doctor who was known to some of the company, he gave us an anecdote, showing how a man may work too hard for his money. “When I was a very young man,” he said, “I went for a brief period to assist a gentleman who had a large parochial practice. I found his surgery in a very disorderly state, and thinking on my first day with him that I would enhance myself in his opinion by my industry, I set to work, as soon as his back was turned, to cleanse the Augean stable. I took off my coat, cleared out every drawer, relieved the counter of its unnecessary covering, relabelled the bottles, and got everything as clean as a new pin. When the doctor returned, he was quite taken by storm with the change, and commenced to prescribe in his day book. There was a patient who required a blister, and the worthy doctor, to make dispensing short, put his hand into a drawer to produce one. To his horror, the drawer was cleansed. Goodness! cried he, why where are all the blisters? The blisters, I replied, the blisters in that drawer? I burnt them all; they were old ones. Nay, my good fellow, was the answer, that is, the most extravagant act I ever heard of; such proceedings would ruin a parish doctor. Why, I make all my parochial people return their blisters when they have done with them. One good blister is enough for at least half a dozen patients. You must never do such a thing again, indeed you must not. I did not, for he and I soon found a good many miles of ground between us, though we never had any more serious misunderstanding.” His replies, when under the fire of cross-question, were ready and commonsense. Once, he observed that in his opinion sulphuric ether was a safer narcotic than chloroform. Why, then, said a listener, do you not use ether? I use chloroform, he resumed, for the same reason that you use phosphorus matches instead of the tinder box. An occasional risk never stands in the way of ready applicability. On another occasion, after one of the meetings of the “Medical Society,” when the subject of a specific cholera cell had been under debate, some one asked him, as a poser and rather ironically, where he thought the first cholera cell came from? “Exactly,” he replied, with a droll face. “But to begin, do you tell me where the first tiger or the first upas tree came from; nay, tell me where you came from yourself, and I will then tell you the origin of the first cholera cell, and give you the full history of the first case; but I want a model before I venture on the description of ultimate facts.”