much. That matters little now; for I suppose
it's at the bottom of the sea. There's my story, sir, and a poor
one enough it is,--for the dear old man, at least." And Tom's voice
trembled so as he told it, that old Heale believed every word, and,
what is more, being--like most hard drinkers--not "unused to the
melting mood," wiped his eyes fervently, and went off for another drop
of comfort; while Tom dusted and arranged on, till the shop began to
look quite smart and business-like.

"Now, sir!"--when the old man came back--"business is business,
and beggars must not be choosers. I don't want to meddle with your
practice; I know the rules of the profession: but if you'll let me
sit here and mix your medicines for you, you'll have the more time to
visit your patients, that's clear,"--and, perhaps (thought he), to
drink your brandy-and-water,--"and when any of them are poisoned by
me, it will be time to kick me out. All I ask is, bed and board. Don't
be frightened for your spirit-bottle, I can drink water; I've done it
many a time, for a week together, in the prairies, and been thankful
for a half-pint in the day."

"But, sir, your dignity as a--"

"Fiddlesticks for dignity; I must live, sir. Only lend me a couple of
sheets of paper and two queen's heads, that I may tell my friends my
whereabouts,--and go and talk it over with Mrs. Heale. We must never
act without consulting the ladies."

That day Tom sent off the following epistle:--

"_To_ CHARLES SHUTER, Esq., M.D, _St. Mumpsimus's Hospital, London_.

"DEAR CHARLEY--

"'I do adjure thee, by old pleasant days,
Quartier Latin, and neatly-shod grisettes
By all our wanderings in quaint by-ways,
By ancient frolics, and by ancient debts,'

"Go to the United Bank of Australia forthwith, and stop the notes
whose numbers--all, alas! which I can recollect--are enclosed. Next,
lend me five pounds. Next, send me down, as quick as possible, five
pounds' worth of decent drugs, as per list; and--if you can borrow
me one--a tolerable microscope, and a few natural history books, to
astound the yokels here with: for I was shipwrecked here last night,
after all at a dirty little west-country port, and what's worse,
robbed of all I had made at the diggings, and start fair, once more,
to run against cruel Dame Fortune, as Colston did against the Indians,
without a shirt to my back. Don't be a hospitable fellow, and ask me
to come up and camp with you. Mumpsimus