In the main, the great mass of what patients tell you is of great value and importance, and, with proper deductions, perfectly reliable. In fact, I think it would be safe to say that a sharp observer would be able to make a fairly and approximately accurate diagnosis in seven cases out of ten, simply by what his eye and his touch tell him while listening to symptoms recounted by the patient. Time and again have I seen an examination made of a reasonably intelligent patient, and when the recital had been finished and the hawk-like gaze had traveled from head to foot and back again, from ear-tip to finger-nail, from eye to chest, a symptom which the patient had simply forgotten to mention would be promptly supplied; and the gasp with which the patient would acknowledge the truth of the suggestion was worth traveling miles to see. Of course, you pay no attention to any statement of the patient which flatly contradicts the evidence of your own senses. But even where patients, through some preconceived notion, or from false ideas of shame or discredit attaching to some particular disease, are trying to mislead you, the very vigor of their efforts will often reveal their secret, just as the piteous broken-winged utterings of the mother partridge reveal instantly to the eye of the bird-lover the presence of the young which she is trying to lure him away from. Only let a patient talk enough about his or her symptoms, and the truth will leak out. The attitude of impatient incredulity toward the stories of our patients, typified by the story of that great surgeon, but greater bear, Dr. John Abernethy, has passed, never to return. When a lady of rank came into his consulting-room, and, having drawn off her wraps and comfortably settled herself in her chair, launched out into a luxurious recital of symptoms, including most of her family history and adventures, he, after listening about ten minutes pulled out his watch and looked at it. The lady naturally stopped, open-mouthed. "Madam, how long do you think it will take you to complete the recital of your symptoms?" "Oh, well,"--the lady floundered, embarrassed,--"I hardly know." "Well, do you think you could finish in three-quarters of an hour?" Well, she supposed she could, probably. "Very well, madam. I have an operation at the hospital in the next street. Pray continue with the recital of your symptoms, and I will return in three-quarters of an hour and proceed with the consideration of your case!"