stayed six months. Then I returned to my practice.
But my misfortunes had not yet ceased—sixteen months after my return, my mother (who had always been delicate,) died of consumption.
So that in a little more than two years I lost all I cared for in the world.
By my mother's death, I came into five hundred a year, irrespective of my practice.
I could not bear to live amongst the scenes of my great happiness and greater losses, so I determined to travel, and try if fresh places and new faces could not assuage a little of my misery.
Accordingly, I sold my practice, and three months after my mother's death, to be exact, on the second of December, 1882, I went on board the steamer to cross to Havre, and half-an-hour later, saw the cliffs of Dover fading from my sight.
We had a miserable passage across.