The doctor in the Cavalier Colonies was regarded with almost as much suspicion as the parson--as a cormorant, ready and anxious to prey on the community, and to be held in check by all the severities of the law. Virginia in 1657 passed statutes regulating surgeons' fees. In 1680 physicians were compelled to declare under oath the value of their drugs, and the court allowed them fifty per cent advance on the cost. If any physician was found guilty of neglecting a patient, he was liable to fine and punishment. In the eighteenth century, still stricter laws were framed, "because of surgeons, apothecaries and unskillful apprentices who exacted unreasonable fees, and loading their patients with medicine." The fees fixed by this statute are "one shilling per mile and all medicines to be set forth in the bill." The price for attending a common fracture is set down at two pounds, and double the sum for attending a compound fracture. A university degree entitled the practitioner to higher charges, but its possession was rare. Most doctors were trained up in the offices of older men as apprentices, pounders of drugs, and cleaners of instruments, as the old painters began by preparing paints and brushes for the master. A modern man of science would smile at the titles of the old medical works solemnly consulted by our forbears. "A Chirurgicall Booke" sounds interesting, and "The Universall Body of Physick"; but they are not so alluring as "The Way to Health, long life and Happiness," nor so attractive to the ignorant as "The Unlearned Keymiss." Perhaps the struggling physicians and chirurgians who doctored by these old books and their common-sense, helped as many and harmed no more than the chemist of to-day, with his endless pharmacopoeia of coal-tar products, tonics, and stimulants; or the specialist who, instead of "the Whole Body of Physick," devotes himself wholly to a single muscle, or nerve-ganglion. In spite of the chill of popular disfavor and of the difficulties of professional training, good and noble men worked on faithfully at the business of helping the sick and suffering in the colonies. The Maryland annals tell of a Dr. Henry Stevenson, who built him a house near the York road so elegant, that the neighbors called it "Stevenson's Folly." If there was any envy in their hearts, however, it changed to gratitude and admiration when the small-pox appeared in their midst, and the large-hearted doctor turned his mansion into a hospital. It is hard for us who live after the days of Jenner, to appreciate the terror of the word _small-pox_. In the eighteenth century pitted faces were the rule. Fathers feared to send their sons to England, so prevalent was the disease there. An old journal advertises: "Wanted, a man between twenty and thirty years of age, to be a footman and under-butler in a great family; he must be of the Church of England, and have had the small-pox in the natural way."