Side by side, hand in hand, through the world, go generosity and meanness. If these could but be personified, and the individuals compelled to stand before men in broad daylight, O, what a staring would there be! Those whom we thought the very embodiment of generosity and kindness would "crop out" in their true hideousness of character--unmasked meanness and selfishness; yes, men too high in the estimation of the world, in church and in state. On the other hand, we should be equally astonished to find amongst those in the humbler walks of life, as well as some in the more exalted, people, whom the world counted as mean and penurious, now standing forth adorned in robes bleached like the snow-drift, shining bright as the golden sunrise, yet blushing to find that their hidden charities, and secret, self-denying generosities, had been suddenly brought to light. And when the secret works of this world shall be revealed, no class of men will stand forth more blessed in deeds of generosity and self-sacrifice than the physicians. There is an occasional black sheep in the great flock. A ROUGH DIAMOND. There is no better authority for the truth of the many queer stories told about the rough benevolence of Dr. Abernethy, the great English surgeon, than the author of his memoirs--Sir George Macilwain. [Illustration: PHYSICIANS' CHARITY.] "His manner [Dr. Abernethy's], as we shall admit, was occasionally rough, and sometimes rather prematurely truthful. One day he was called in consultation by a physician to give an opinion in a case of a pulsating tumor, which was pretty plainly an aneurism. On proceeding to examine the tumor, he found a plaster covering it. "'What is this you have on it?' asked Abernethy. "'O, that is only a plaster.' "'Pooh!' exclaimed the doctor, pulling it off and flinging it aside. "'The "pooh" was all well enough,' said the attending physician, afterwards, 'but it took several guineas out of my pocket.'" "UP THREE PAIR, BACK." A surgeon--pupil of the above--was requested to visit a patient in a low quarter of the suburbs of the metropolis. When he arrived, and mounted several flights of crazy stairs, he began searching for the designated number, which was so defaced by time that he was only enabled to determine it by the more legible condition of the next number. [Illustration: SEARCH FOR A PATIENT.] An old woman answered the shake of the dilapidated knocker. "Does Captain Blank live here?" "Yes, sir,"--trying to penetrate the darkness. "Is he at home?" "Yes, sir. Please, may I make so bold as to ask, are you the doctor?" "Yes." "O, then please to walk in, sir." In the ill-furnished, narrow room sat an old man, in a very shabby and variegated _déshabille_, who rose from his chair, and, with a grace worthy of a count, welcomed the stranger. His manner was extremely gentlemanly, his language well chosen, and the statement of his complaint particularly clear and concise.