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.
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