ng, but leaned back in his chair a
stricken man.

"I am so sorry," she said again. "If I had known what was passing in
your mind I should have told you earlier that I intended to devote my
life entirely to science. There are many women with a capacity for
marriage, but few with a taste for biology. I will remain true to my
own line, then. I came down here while waiting for an opening in the
Paris Physiological Laboratory. I have just heard that there is a
vacancy for me there, and so you will be troubled no more by my
intrusion upon your practice. I have done you an injustice just as you
did me one. I thought you narrow and pedantic, with no good quality.
I have learned during your illness to appreciate you better, and the
recollection of our friendship will always be a very pleasant one to
me."

And so it came about that in a very few weeks there was only one doctor
in Hoyland. But folks noticed that the one had aged many years in a
few months, that a weary sadness lurked always in the depths of his
blue eyes, and that he was less concerned than ever with the eligible
young ladies whom chance, or their careful country mammas, placed in
his way.

THE SURGEON TALKS.

"Men die of the diseases which they have studied most," remarked the
surgeon, snipping off the end of a cigar with all his professional
neatness and finish. "It's as if the morbid condition was an evil
creature which, when it found itself closely hunted, flew at the throat
of its pursuer. If you worry the microbes too much they may worry you.
I've seen cases of it, and not necessarily in microbic diseases either.
There was, of course, the well-known instance of Liston and the
aneurism; and a dozen others that I could mention. You couldn't have a
clearer case than that of poor old Walker of St. Christopher's. Not
heard of it? Well, of course, it was a little before your time, but I
wonder that it should have been forgotten. You youngsters are so busy
in keeping up to the day that you lose a good deal that is interesting
of yesterday.

"Walker was one of the best men in Europe on nervous disease. You must
have read his little book on sclerosis of the posterior columns. It's
as interesting as a novel, and epoch-making in its way. He worked like
a horse, did Walker--huge consulting practice--hours a day in the
clinical wards--constant original investigations. And then he enjoyed
himself also. 'De mortuis,' of course, but still it