a week afterwards I met Evans, the dispensary man, a very common fellow,
who was said to be frank.

"Helloa!" says he. "Doctor, you made a nice mistake about that darky
at No. 709 Bedford street the other night. She had nothing but measles,
after all."

"Of course I knew," said I, laughing; "but you don't think I was going
in for dispensary trash, do you?"

"I should think not," said Evans.

I learned afterwards that this Miss Barker had taken an absurd fancy
to the man because he had doctored the darky and would not let the
Quakeress pay him. The end was, when I wanted to get a vacancy in the
Southwark Dispensary, where they do pay the doctors, Miss Barker was
malignant enough to take advantage of my oversight by telling the whole
story to the board; so that Evans got in, and I was beaten.

You may be pretty sure that I found rather slow the kind of practice I
have described, and began to look about for chances of bettering myself.
In this sort of locality rather risky cases turned up now and then;
and as soon as I got to be known as a reliable man, I began to get the
peculiar sort of practice I wanted. Notwithstanding all my efforts, I
found myself, at the close of three years, with all my means spent, and
just able to live meagerly from hand to mouth, which by no means suited
a man of my refined tastes.

Once or twice I paid a visit to my aunt, and was able to secure moderate
aid by overhauling her concealed hoardings. But as to these changes of