"I believe you are an --'opathist." "Yes, I am; and you are a --'pathist; are you not?" "Yes; and I can't break over the rules of my society by aiding or counselling with you ---- for the sake of _one_ patient. Good day!" "Sir, I mistook you for a Christian, not a barbarian! Good day!" A JOLLY TRIO OF DOCTORS. Before entering upon an exposition of the viler and more reprehensible sort of quacks,--the city charlatans and impostors,--I must relate a diverting scene, also from a country consultation that occurred in New York State some years since, from the perusal of which, if the reader cannot deduce a "moral," he may derive some amusement. Mr. H. was an invalid; he was the worst kind of an invalid--a hypochondriac. The visiting physician had made a pretty good thing of it, the neighbors affirmed, for "H. was in easy circumstances." Finally he took to his bed, and declared he was about to shuffle off this mortal coil. Two eminent physicians were summoned from a distance to consult with the attending physician. They arrived by rail, examined the patient, looked wise, and the learned trio withdrew to consult upon so "complicated and important a case." A tea-table had been set in an adjoining room, and to the abundance of eatables wherewith to refresh the distinguished professionals who were there to enter upon an "arbitrament of life or death," were added sundry bottles yet uncorked. A little son and daughter of Mr. H. were amusing themselves, meantime, by a game at "hide-and-seek," and the former, having "played out" all the legitimate hiding-places, bethought himself of the top of a high secretary in the "banqueting-room." Action followed thought, and, climbing upon a chair-back, he gained the dusty elevation, where he quietly seated himself just as the three wise Æsculapians entered the apartment. His only safety from discovery was to keep quiet. Corks were drawn, supper was discussed, and conversation flowed merrily along. The weather, the news of the day, and the political crisis were discoursed, and the little fellow perched high on the secretary wondered when and what they would decide on his father's case. Nearly an hour had passed, the doctors were merry, and the boy was tired; but still the little urchin kept his position. "Well, Dr. A., how is practice here, in general?" inquired one of the counsel. "Dull; distressingly healthy. Why, if there don't come a windfall in shape of an epidemic this fall, I shall _fall_ short for provender for my horse and bread for my family. How is it with you?" "O, quite the reverse from you. I have alive twenty daily patients now." "Very sick, any of them?" asked the local physician. "No, no,--a little more wine, doctor,--some old women, whom any smart man can make think they are sick; some stout men, whom medicine will keep as patients when once under the weather; and silly girls, whom flattery will always bring again,--ha! ha!" and so saying he gulped down the wine.