I noticed, the other evening, that some private conversation was going on between the Counsellor and the two Annexes. There was a mischievous look about the little group, and I thought they were hatching some plot among them. I did not hear what the English Annex said, but the American girl's voice was sharper, and I overheard what sounded to me like, “It is time to stir up that young Doctor.” The Counsellor looked very knowing, and said that he would find a chance before long. I was rather amused to see how readily he entered into the project of the young people. The fact is, the Counsellor is young for his time of life; for he already betrays some signs of the change referred to in that once familiar street song, which my friend, the great American surgeon, inquired for at the music-shops under the title, as he got it from the Italian minstrel, “Silva tredi mondi goo.” I saw, soon after this, that the Counsellor was watching his chance to “stir up the young Doctor.” It does not follow, because our young Doctor's bald spot is slower in coming than he could have wished, that he has not had time to form many sound conclusions in the calling to which he has devoted himself Vesalius, the father of modern descriptive anatomy, published his great work on that subject before he was thirty. Bichat, the great anatomist and physiologist, who died near the beginning of this century, published his treatise, which made a revolution in anatomy and pathology, at about the same age; dying soon after he had reached the age of thirty. So, possibly the Counsellor may find that he has “stirred up” a young man who, can take care of his own head, in case of aggressive movements in its direction. “Well, Doctor,” the Counsellor began, “how are stocks in the measles market about these times? Any corner in bronchitis? Any syndicate in the vaccination business?” All this playfully. “I can't say how it is with other people's patients; most of my families are doing very well without my help, at this time.” “Do tell me, Doctor, how many families you own. I have heard it said that some of our fellow-citizens have two distinct families, but you speak as if you had a dozen.” “I have, but not so large a number as I should like. I could take care of fifteen or twenty more without: having to work too hard.” “Why, Doctor, you are as bad as a Mormon. What do you mean by calling certain families yours?” “Don't you speak about my client? Don't your clients call you their lawyer? Does n't your baker, does n't your butcher, speak of the families he supplies as his families?” “To be sure, yes, of course they do; but I had a notion that a man had as many doctors as he had organs to be doctored.” “Well, there is some truth in that; but did you think the old-fashioned family doctor was extinct, a fossil like the megatherium?”