are going home merry or mournful, as the case may be. Generally
the former, as the sad ones take to the third class. These are jocose,
droll dogs; the restraint of physic over, they unbend, and chat
pleasantly, unless there happen to be a sickly gentleman present, when
the instinct of the craft is too strong for them; and they talk of
their wonderful cures of Mr. Popkins's knee, or Mr. Murphy's elbow, in
a manner very edifying.

11.--The men of wit and pleasure. These are, I confess, difficult of
detection; but the external signs are very flash waistcoats, and
guard-chains, black canes, black whiskers, and strong Dublin accents.
A stray governess or two will be found in this train. They travel in
pairs, and speak a singular tongue, which a native of Paris might
suppose to be Irish.

A NUT FOR THE DOCTORS.

[Illustration]

Should you ask, Who is the greatest tyrant of modern days? Mr.
O'Connell will tell you--Nicholas, or Espartero. An Irish Whig member
will reply, Dan himself. An _attache_ at an embassy would say, Lord
Palmerston,--"'Tis Cupid ever makes us slaves!" A French _depute_ of
the Thiers party will swear it is Louis Philippe. Count D'Orsay will
say, his tailor. But I will tell you it is none of these: the most
pitiless autocrat of the nineteenth century is--the President of the
College of Physicians.

Of all the unlimited powers possessed by irresponsible man, I know of
nothing at all equal to his, who, _mero motu_, of his own free will
and caprice, can at any moment call a meeting of the dread body at
whose head he stands, assemble the highest dignitaries of the
land--archbishops and bishops, chancellors, chief barons, and chief
remembrancers--to listen to the minute anatomy of a periwinkle's
mustachios, or some singular provision in the physiology of a crab's
breeches-pocket: all of whom, _luto non obstante_, must leave their
peaceful homes and warm hearths to "assist" at a meeting in which,
nine cases out of ten, they take as much interest as a Laplander does
in the health of the Grand Lama; or Mehemet Ali in the proceedings of
Father Mathew.

By nine o'clock the curtain rises, displaying a goodly mob of medical
celebrities: the old ones characterised by the astute look and
searching glance, long and shrewd practice in the world's little
failings ever confers; the young ones, anxious, wide awake, and
fidgetty, not quite satisfied with what services they may be called on
to render in candle