"It is true;" said the Duke. "The interview and the simple remedies you prescribed, have sufficed to soothe the sufferings of my daughter. Ah! Monsieur," added he, clasping the Doctor's hand kindly, "how can I discharge my obligations towards you?" "By granting me a boon, invaluable to me, and which all Paris will envy, and of which I know you are prodigal indeed, your esteem--the respect of the Duke d'Harcourt--the most honorable and virtuous of men. You see, Monsieur, I place a great value on my consultations; and few persons have received so noble a recompense from you." "Doctor," said the Duke d'Harcourt, with a smile, "in that case you are already paid; for I know all that you do in Paris, and especially in this neighborhood. I know that want meets here with a better reception than opulence, and that you look on all sufferers as having an equal claim on your attention. You must be aware, that knowing this I have already given you all you ask." "Well, then," said the Doctor, "let me continue to have your respect, and we shall be equal." Just then Mlle. Celestine Crepineau knocked at the door. "Come in," said Doctor Matheus. "Sir, there are in the reception-room an English Milord, and two miserable creatures waiting to see you." "Who are the latter?" "One is an Auvergnat, very badly dressed, with a bandage over his eye, who has already been here once or twice." Doctor Matheus seemed annoyed, and turned away lest the Duke should observe it. "The other is a peasant from the environs, who has a handkerchief over his face as if he _enjoyed a fluxion_." "I will go," said the Duke, "for your visitors are impatient, and sorrow should not wait. I will give place to Milord." "Mademoiselle," said the Doctor, "show in the poor wretches." "Very well," said the Duke, "the poor before the rich, I expected that." Bowing kindly to the Doctor, the old nobleman left. As he passed through the reception room, he saw the Doctor's visitors, each of whom looked towards him. The _Milord_ rushed towards a window, which luckily was closed. The other two were introduced to the Doctor's room. No sooner were they there, than the one threw off his handkerchief, and the Auvergnat his bandage. The Doctor gave them his hand and exclaimed, "MONTE-LEONE! Taddeo." "And here, too, am I," said the Milord, entering the room and throwing aside his red wig and burning whiskers. "D'Harcourt, too"--said the Doctor, hurrying to meet the new comer--and then closing the curtains, "Here we all are," said he. "Yes, dear Von Apsbury," said the Count, embracing him. "_The Pulcinelli of the Etruscan villa are again united._" * * * * * Dr. Franklin's father had seventeen children. He was the fifteenth. He says in his autobiography, that his father died at the age of eighty-nine, and his mother at the age of eighty-five, and that neither were ever known to have any sickness except that of which they died. FOOTNOTES: