Last. I won't tell; 'tis a secret.

Hel. Well replied! the college has no right to pry inte

secrets.

All. Oh, no; by no means.

Hel. But now, Dr. Last, to proceed in due form, are you

qualified to administer remedies to such diseases as belong to the head?

Last. I believe I may.

Hel. Name some to the college.

Last. The tooth-ache.

Hel. What do you hold the best method to treat it?

Last. I pulls 'em by the roots.

Hel. Well replied, brothers! that without doubt, is a radical cure.

All. Without doubt.

Hel. Thus far as to the head: proceed we next to the middle. When, Dr. Last, you are called in to a patient with a pain in his bowels, what then is your method of practice?

Last. I claps a trencher hot to the part.

Hel. Embrocation; very well! But if this application should fail, what is the next step that you take?

Last. I give a vomit and a purge.

Hel. Well replied! for it is plain that there is a disagreeable guest in the house; he has opened both doors; if he will go out at neither, it is none of his fault.

All. Oh, no; by no means.

Hel. We have now dispatched the middle and head: come we finally to the other extremity, the feet. Are you equally

skilled in the disorders incidental to them?

Last. I believe I may.

Hel. Name some?

Last. I have a great vogue all our way for curing corns

Hel. What are the means that you use?

Last. I cuts them out.

Hel. Well replied! extirpation: no better mode of curing can be. Well, brethren, I think we may now, after this strict and impartial inquiry, safely certify that Dr. Last from top to toe is an able physician.

All. Very able, very able, indeed.

Hel. And in every way qualified to proceed in his practice. All. Every way qualified.

Hel. You may descend, Dr. Last.

The secretary then reads the licence and gives it to Dr. Last who takes his seat among the members of the college. Soon after, Forceps is made to enter, when the following conversation ensues between him and the president. "Well, Forceps, what is your will?

Forceps. To know, sir, what you would have done with the hospital patients to day?

Hel. To day! why, what was done yesterday?

Forceps. Sir, we bled the west ward, and jalaped the north.

Hel. Did ye? why then, bleed the north ward, and jalap the west to day. [Exit Forceps. Swift was very bitter against the professors of medicine. Dr. Johnson always hated and denounced Swift for his satires

b

and used to challenge his friends when they lamented the exorbitancy of physicians' fees, to produce him one instance of an estate raised by physic in England.

A young man who had a strong inclination to study medi cine, mentioned the matter to Voltaire. "Ah!" replied the wit, "consider what you are going to do; to put a parcel of druge, of whose properties you know nothing, into a body, of the nature of which you are possibly more ignorant. If you have really a fancy to kill men, why not turn soldier at once; then at least, you'll kill nobody but those who have the means of defending themselves."

Louis XIV. one day seeing Molière with M. Mauvilain, his physician, thus addressed the satirist: "So Molière, you had your doctor along with you, I see now what in the name of wonder can you and he have to do together?" With submission to your majesty, returned the poet, "we have a great deal to say to each other, Monsieur M. prescribes medicines for me, which I never take, and so I get better.”

Molière, when once travelling through Auvergne, was taken ill at a distance from any place where he could procure respectable medical aid. It was proposed to send for a cele brated physician at Clermont. "No, no," said the wit, "he is too great a man for me; go and bring me the village surgeon; he will not, perhaps, have the hardihood to kill me!"

DR. MOUNSEY AND MR. RANBY.

[Vol. i. page 149.]

WHEN the doctor removed to Chelsea, he found Mr. Ranby the surgeon there, a man of strong passions, harsh voice, and inelegant manners. King George II., with whom he was a great favourite, had appointed him to Chelsea hospital, and from the humble capacity in which he is said to have purveyed for him in another way, the old and often repeated story originated, of "fat, fair, and forty."

The interesting chat which novelty of acquaintance often promotes, appeared at first like intimacy between the surgeon and physician; but this gradually declined into indifference, coldness, disgust, and, at last, on Ranby's side, into personal outrage.

Ever since the establishment of the hospital, it has been the business of the physician to examine the surgeon's bill, and if he saw no reason to disapprove of it, to sign it, as a passport through the respective offices. A bill occurred, which the doctor thought objectionable, and was said by many to have reasonable grounds for his objections: he refused to sign it. This Ranby considered as a reproach on his moral character, and consequently an insult: mutual ill-language took place, and the angry surgeon concluded by swearing he would be the death of his opponent if he persisted in refusing to sign the

account.

It is supposed, that, on this outrageous and unwarrantable

behaviour, Ranby was obliged to find sureties to keep the peare. Dr. Mounsey, on this occasion, consulted the then Lord Chief Justice, De Grey, (afterwards Lord Walsingham), on the subject, who recommended peace to Mounsey, observing, at the same time, "and if Ranby repeats this violence, leave me to manage him." The dread of a judge's warrant had the desired effect on Mr. Ranby.

Lord Chesterfield told the doctor, and a great personage was of the same opinion, that he had right on his side, but that Ranby's connections and influence would carry him through : his lordship was not mistaken; the board, to whom Mounsey referred the affair, dropped it, and the bill was paid.

This dispute between Mounsey and Ranby, concerning the bill, brought to light a melancholy instance of profusion in the disposal of the public money, with respect to the expenditure for providing advice, physic, and surgery, to Greenwich hospital.

Ranby never forgave this affair. He died a few years after, from the effect of a violent fit of passion, occasioned by the late Sir John Fielding not punishing a hackney-coachman, who happened to be the injured party.

ABERNETHY'S MODE OF LECTURING.

[Vol. i. page 129.]

As additional illustrations of Abernethy's happy mode of lecturing, we may quote the following instances. On the sub