Stories from the Diary of a Doctor.
By the Author of "The Medicine Lady."
I.—MY FIRST PATIENT.
Y a strange coincidence I was busily engaged studying a chapter on neurotic poisons in Taylor's "Practice of Medical Jurisprudence," when a knock came to my door, and my landlady's daughter entered and handed me a note.
"She handed me a note."
"The messenger is waiting, sir," she said. "He has just come over from the hospital, and he wants to know if there is any answer."
I had just completed my year as house physician at St. Saviour's Hospital, East London, and was now occupying lodgings not two minutes off.
I opened the note hastily—it contained a few words:—
"My Dear Halifax,—Come over at once, if you can. You will find me in B Ward. I have just heard of something which I think will suit you exactly.—Yours, John Ray."
"Tell the messenger I will attend to this immediately," I said to the girl.
She withdrew, and putting the note into my pocket I quickly slipped into my greatcoat, for the night was a bitterly cold one, and ran across to St. Saviour's.
Ray was the resident surgeon. During my time at the hospital we had always been special friends. I found him, as usual, at his post. He was in the surgical ward, busily engaged setting a broken leg, when I put in an appearance.
"I'll speak to you in one moment, Halifax," he said; "just hand me that bandage, there's a good fellow. Now then, my dear boy," he continued, bending over his patient, a lad of fourteen, "you will soon be much easier. Where is the nurse? Nurse, I shall look in again later, and inject a little morphia before we settle him for the night. Now then, Halifax, come into the corridor with me."
"What do you want me for?" I asked, as I stood by his side in the long corridor which ran from east to west across the great hospital, and into which all the wards on the first floor opened. "Why this sudden message; what can I do to help you, Ray?"
"You have not made up your mind as to your future?" answered Ray.
"Not quite," I replied. "I may buy a practice, or try to work my way up as a specialist—I have a leaning towards the latter course; but there is no special hurry anyway."
"You are not averse to a job in the meantime, I presume?"
"That depends upon what it is," I answered.
"Well, see here. I have just had a frantic telegram from a man in the country. His name
