Stand in the light of the window, Pro fessor, said I. The Professor took up the desired position. You have white hairs, I said. Had 'em any time these twenty years, said the Professor. And the crow's foot, pes anserinus, rather. — The Pro fessor smiled, as I wanted him to, and the folds radiated like the ridges of a half opened fan, from the outer corner of the eyes to the temples. And the calipers, said I. What are the calipers 9 he asked, cu riously. Why, the parenthesis, said I. Parenthesis? Said the Professor; what's that? Why look in the glass when you are disposed to laugh, and see if your mouth is n't framed in a couple of crescent lines, so, my boy It 's all nonsense, said the Professor; just look at my biceps.