``Hi, sah, Missey Barker she say to come quick away, sah, to Numbah 709 Bedford street.''
The locality did not look like pay, but it is hard to say in this quarter, because sometimes you found a well-to-do ``brandy-snifter'' (local for gin-shop) or a hard-working ``leather-jeweler'' (ditto for shoemaker), with next door, in a house better or worse, dozens of human rats for whom every police trap in the city was constantly set.
With a doubt in my mind as to whether I
should find a good patient or some dirty nigger, I sought the place to which I had been directed.I did not like its looks; but Iblundered up an alley and into a back room, where I fell over somebody, and was cursed and told to lie down and keep easy, or somebody, meaning the man stumbled over, would make me.At last I lit on a staircase which led into the alley, and, after much useless inquiry, got as high as the garret.People hereabout did not know one another, or did not want to know, so that it was of little avail to ask questions.At length I saw a light through the cracks in the attic door, and walked in.To my amazement, the first person I saw was a woman of about thirty-five, in pearl-gray Quaker dress--one of your quiet, good-looking people.She was seated on a stool beside a straw mattress upon which lay a black woman.There were three others crowded close around a small stove, which was red-hot--an unusual spectacle in this street.Altogether a most nasty den.
As I came in, the little Quaker woman got up and said: ``I took the liberty of sending for thee to look at this poor woman.I am afraid she has the smallpox.Will thee be so kind as to look at her?'' And with this she held down the candle toward the bed.
``Good gracious!'' I said hastily, seeing how the creature was speckled ``I didn't understand this, or I would not have come.
I have important cases which I cannot subject to the risk of contagion.Best let her alone, miss,'' I added, ``or send her to the smallpox hospital.''
Upon my word, I was astonished at the little woman's indignation.She said just those things which make you feel as if somebody had been calling you names or kicking you--Was I really a doctor? and so on.It did not gain by being put in the ungrammatical tongue of Quakers.However, Inever did fancy smallpox, and what could a fellow get by doctoring wretches like these?
So I held my tongue and went away.About 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.709Bedford 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 Iwanted.Notwithstanding all my efforts, Ifound 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 property I was careful, and did not venture to secure the large amount Ineeded.As to the Bible, it was at this time hidden, and I judged it, therefore, to be her chief place of deposit.Banks she utterly distrusted.
Six months went by, and I was worse off than ever--two months in arrears of rent, and numerous other debts to cigar-shops and liquor-dealers.Now and then some good job, such as a burglar with a cut head, helped me for a while; but, on the whole, I was like Slider Downeyhylle in Neal's ``Charcoal Sketches,'' and kept going ``downer and downer'' the more I tried not to.Something had to be done.
It occurred to me, about this time, that if I moved into a more genteel locality I might get a better class of patients, and yet keep the best of those I now had.To do this it was necessary to pay my rent, and the more so because I was in a fair way to have no house at all over my head.But here fortune interposed.I was caught in a heavy rainstorm on Seventh Street, and ran to catch an omnibus.As I pulled open the door I saw behind me the Quaker woman, Miss Barker.
I laughed and jumped in.She had to run a little before the 'bus again stopped.She got pretty wet.An old man in the corner, who seemed in the way of taking charge of other people's manners, said to me: ``Young man, you ought to be ashamed to get in before the lady, and in this pour, too!''
I said calmly, ``But you got in before her.''
He made no reply to this obvious fact, as he might have been in the bus a half-hour.
A large, well-dressed man near by said, with a laugh, ``Rather neat, that,'' and, turning, tried to pull up a window-sash.In the effort something happened, and he broke the glass, cutting his hand in half a dozen places.
While he was using several quite profane phrases, I caught his hand and said, ``I am a surgeon,'' and tied my handkerchief around the bleeding palm.
The guardian of manners said, ``I hope you are not much hurt, but there was no reason why you should swear.''
On this my patient said, ``Go to ----,''
which silenced the monitor.