"He'd better, or I'll set up for myself, for I won't stand it any longer; it ain't only for myself but for others that I care. Why, I've a hankering for Anny Whistle, (you know her, don't you?) a pretty little girl with red lips-lives in Church Street. Well, as long as I could bring her a bit of liquorice when I went to see her, all was smooth enough, and I got many a kiss when no one was nigh; but now that I can't fork out a bit as big as a marble, she's getting quite shy of me, and is always walking with Bill, the butcher's boy. I know he gives her bull's-eyes-I seed him one day buying a ha'porth. Now ain't that hard?"

"Why, certainly, the affair becomes serious; but still, how you are to set up for yourself I don't know. You are not qualified."

"Oh! ain't I? just as much as most doctors are There must be a beginning, and if I gives wrong medicine at first, then I'll try another, and so on until 1 come to what will cure them. Soon learn, Tom."

“Well, but how will you do about surgery ?"

Surgery, oh, I'll do very well-don't know much about it just now-soon learn."

66

Why, would you venture to take off a man's leg, Tom? do you know how to take up the arteries?"

"Would I take off a man's leg? to be sure I would, as quick as the doctor could. As for the arteries, why I might puzzle a little about them; but, by the time I had taken off three or four legs, I should know something about them. Practice makes perfect-soon learn, Tom."

"But all your first patients would die."

"I don't know that. At all events I should do my best, and no man can do more; and if they did die, why it would be by the visitation of God, wouldn't it ?"

"Not altogether, I'm afraid. It won't do, Tom."

'It has done from the beginning of the world, and will do. I say there's no learning without practice— people spoil at first in every trade, and make afterwards; and a man ain't born a doctor any more than he is a carpenter."

"No; but, if I recollect right, to be a surgeon you ought to walk the hospital, as they term it."

"Well, and haven't I for these last four years? When I carries out my basket of physic, I walks the hospital right through, twice at least every day in the week."

"That's Greenwich Hospital."

"Well, so it is; and plenty of surgical cases in it. However, the doctor and I must come to a proper understanding: I didn't clean his boots this morning. I wish, if you see him, Tom, you'd reason with him a little."

"I'll see what I can do; but don't be rash. Goodbye, Tom; mind you tell the doctor that I called." Well, I will; but that's not in my indentures."

I called in at the widow's after I left the doctor's shop, and communicated the intended rebellion on the part of Tom.

"Well," said Mrs. St. Felix, "I shall not forget to make the Spanish claim, and prevent Tom from walking Spanish. The doctor is very inconsiderate; he forgets that Tom's regard for liquorice is quite as

strong as his own liking for a cigar. Now, if the doctor don't promise me to have a fresh supply for Tom, I won't let him have a cigar for himself."

The doctor was compelled to surrender at discretion. The next waggon brought down one hundredweight of liquorice, and Tom recovered his health and the smiles of Anny Whistle.

When I left the widow's I proceeded to the Hospital, to find Anderson and my father. As I walked along I perceived Dick Harness on a bench, who hailed

me.

“Well, Tom, I haven't seen anything of you for I don't know how long, since you've taken to seafaring life. This is a beautiful day, is it not? it makes one feel so happy and cheerful such a day as this. Everybody and everything looks gay; the birds seem so merry, and the little clouds seem to scud away as if their hearts were as light as themselves. Come, sit down a minute; here's a song for you you've never heard-one I don't often sing, because they say it's all about myself."

"Well, then, I should like to hear that." "Here goes then :-

"He always liked to be at sea,
For e'en on shore, the rover,
If not as drunk as he could be,
Was always half seas over."
"The gunner, who was apt to scoff,
With jokes most aptly timed,
Said, Sam might any day go off,
'Cause he was always' primed.'

"Sam didn't want a feeling heart,
Though never seen to cry,
Yet tears were always on the start,
The drop was in his eye.

"At fighting, Sam was never shy,
A most undoubted merit;
His courage never failed, and why-
He was so full of spirit.'

"In action he had lost an eye,

But that gave him no trouble,—
Quoth Sam, 'I have no cause to sigh,
I'm always seeing double.'

"A shot from an unlucky gun

Put Sam on timber pegs;

It didn't signify to one

Who ne'er could 'keep his legs.'

One night he filled a pail with grog,
Determined he would suck it;
He drained it dry,-the thirsty dog!

Hiccupped-and kicked the bucket.""

"There's Bill's fiddle, Dick," said I, getting up; "I thought you would bring him out."

"Yes, I was sure of that: I'll sing another verse or two, and then be off to the Park, and leave him in the lurch."