"Now, sir, you will please state your case," said the lady, pocketing the fee, adjusting her eye-glasses, and seating herself for a consultation. "Yes. Well--it is a--a peculiar case," stammered the patient. "You have informed me of that point before. Please proceed," remarked the doctress with great complacency to the embarrassed fellow. "It's a delicate case," he blushingly replied. "O, indeed; then step into this private consulting room;" and arising, she led the way to an inner office, where the young man involuntarily followed, greatly to the amusement of the two remaining students, who remarked, "It is getting blamed hot for us here." [Illustration: THREE WISE STUDENTS CONSULTING A DOCTRESS.] In a moment, the invalid--greatly improved, one might judge, from his agility,--rushed from the private sanctum with a bound, grasped his hat from the table, exclaiming, "Come on, for God's sake!" and rushed from the house, followed by his now thoroughly affrighted companions. "What's the matter? What did the old tarantula say to you?" demanded the young man's chums, when well outside of the web into which they had so impudently intruded themselves. "Don't you ever ask me," he vociferated. "A ---- pretty mess you got me into. But if either of you ever again mistake that old woman for a fool, I hope to God she'll take you into her private consulting room." But to return to Miss Hunt and her sister. In 1855 or '56 the sisters opened an office in Boston. As with all young physicians without "dead men's shoes," professional support, or wealthy and influential friends to back them, patients gathered slowly at first, but with a steady increase, the care of whom soon devolved entirely upon Harriot, as her sister married, and retired from practice. In 1847 she had an extensive practice among a wealthy and influential class of people, which many an older physician of the sterner sex might envy. With a large practical knowledge, acquired in twelve years' experience, she applied to Harvard College for permission to attend a course of medical lectures. She was refused admission. In 1850 she again applied. The officers consented this time, but the students offered such objections to the admission of females into their presence, that Miss Hunt generously declined to avail herself of the long-coveted opportunity. "The Female Medical College," at Philadelphia, in 1853, granted Miss Hunt an honorary degree.... She is now in the midst of an extensive practice. Miss Hunt has lived a glorious, self-denying life, upholding her sister co-laborers, and the "dignity of the profession," never demeaning herself by stooping to sell her knowledge, by any of those disreputable practices that mark the avaricious M. D., the charlatan, the parasites, and the leeches of the profession, both male and female.