As it is,—­this is the way in which the other class of people look at the conditions in which they find themselves.  They may be optimists or pessimists, they are very largely optimists,—­but, taking things just as they find them, they adjust the facts to their wishes if they can; and if they cannot, then they adjust themselves to the facts.  I venture to say that if one should count the Ifs and the Ases in the conversation of his acquaintances, he would find the more able and important persons among them—­statesmen, generals, men of business—­among the Ases, and the majority of the conspicuous failures among the Ifs.  I don’t know but this would be as good a test as that of Gideon,—­lapping the water or taking it up in the hand.  I have a poetical friend whose conversation is starred as thick with ifs as a boiled ham is with cloves.  But another friend of mine, a business man, whom I trust in making my investments, would not let me meddle with a certain stock which I fancied, because, as he said, “there are too many ifs in it.  As it looks now, I would n’t touch it.”

I noticed, the other evening, that some private conversation was going on between the Counsellor and the two Annexes.  There was a mischievous look about the little group, and I thought they were hatching some plot among them.  I did not hear what the English Annex said, but the American girl’s voice was sharper, and I overheard what sounded to me like, “It is time to stir up that young Doctor.”  The Counsellor looked very knowing, and said that he would find a chance before long.  I was rather amused to see how readily he entered into the project of the young people.  The fact is, the Counsellor is young for his time of life; for he already betrays some signs of the change referred to in that once familiar street song, which my friend, the great American surgeon, inquired for at the music-shops under the title, as he got it from the Italian minstrel,

     “Silva tredi mondi goo.”

I saw, soon after this, that the Counsellor was watching his chance to “stir up the young Doctor.”

It does not follow, because our young Doctor’s bald spot is slower in coming than he could have wished, that he has not had time to form many sound conclusions in the calling to which he has devoted himself Vesalius, the father of modern descriptive anatomy, published his great work on that subject before he was thirty.  Bichat, the great anatomist and physiologist, who died near the beginning of this century, published his treatise, which made a revolution in anatomy and pathology, at about the same age; dying soon after he had reached the age of thirty.  So, possibly the Counsellor may find that he has “stirred up” a young man who, can take care of his own head, in case of aggressive movements in its direction.

“Well, Doctor,” the Counsellor began, “how are stocks in the measles market about these times?  Any corner in bronchitis?  Any syndicate in the vaccination business?” All this playfully.