LXIII. AN HUNDRED FOLD 378

LXIV. COMFORT ME WITH APPLES 383

LXV. THE END OF THE THIRD YEAR 388

LXVI. LOOKING BACKWARD 394

LXVII. LOOKING FORWARD 402


THE FAT OF THE LAND




CHAPTER I

MY EXCUSE


My sixtieth birthday is a thing of yesterday, and I have, therefore,
more than half descended the western slope. I have no quarrel with life
or with time, for both have been polite to me; and I wish to give an
account of the past seven years to prove the politeness of life, and to
show how time has made amends to me for the forced resignation of my
professional ambitions. For twenty-five years, up to 1895, I practised
medicine and surgery in a large city. I loved my profession beyond the
love of most men, and it loved me; at least, it gave me all that a
reasonable man could desire in the way of honors and emoluments. The