his tremendous brogue, "so no doubt you would like me to prescribe for
you. I'll do it with all the pleasure in life. Saltpetre is a grand
drug, and I often order it for my patients. Sulphur is the finest thing
in the world for the blood, and charcoal is an elegant disinfectant. By
a great piece of luck, I have all these drugs with me in the carriage,
but"--and he suddenly covered the man with his revolver--"they are all
mixed up together, and there is the least taste in life of lead in
front of them, and by God! you'll get it through you if you don't clear
out of that." The men decamped immediately. I have heard Dr. Hatchell
tell that story at least twenty times. Dr. Hatchell, who was invited to
every single entertainment, both at the Lodge and at the Castle, was a
widower. A peculiarly stupid young Aide-de-Camp once asked him why he
had not brought Mrs. Hatchell with him. "Sorr," answered the doctor in
his most impressive tones, "Mrs. Hatchell is an angel in heaven." A
fortnight later the same foolish youth asked again why Dr. Hatchell had
come alone. "Mrs. Hatchell, sorr, is still an angel in heaven,"
answered the indignant doctor.

It was said that no mortal eye had ever seen Dr. Hatchell in the
daytime out of his professional frock-coat and high hat. I know that
when he stayed with us in Scotland some years later, he went out
salmon-fishing in a frock-coat and high hat (with a stethescope clipped
into the crown of it), an unusual garb for an angler.

In the spring of 1868, King Edward and Queen Alexandra (then, of
course, Prince and Princess of Wales) paid us a long visit at the
Castle. My father had heard a rumour that recently the Prince of Wales
had introduced the custom of smoking in the dining-room after dinner.
He was in a difficult position; nothing would induce him to tolerate
such a practice, but how was he to avoid discourtesy to his Royal
guest? My mother rose to the occasion. A little waiting-room near the
dining-room was furnished and fitted up in the most attractive manner,
and before the Prince had been an hour in the Castle, my mother showed
him the charming little room, and told H. R. H. that it had been
specially fitted up for him to enjoy his after-dinner cigar in. That
saved the situation. Young men of to-day will be surprised to learn
that in my time no one dreamed of smoking before they went to a ball,
as to smell of smoke was considered an affront to one's partners. I
myself, though a heav