y 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:

[H] Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by Stringer
& Townsend, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District of New-York.

From Fraser's Magazine.

LIFE AT A WATERING PLACE.

THE DOG OF ALCIBIADES.

BY C. ASTOR BRISTED.

We left Tom Edwards mysteriously swallowed up, like a stage ghost down a
trap-door. And do you know, re