ested you are in the personality of
Cullingworth--as every one is who comes, even at second hand, within
range of his influence; and so you may rely upon it that I shall give
you a very full and particular account of all that passes between us. I
am looking forward immensely to seeing him again, and I trust we won't
have any rows.

Goodbye, old chap. My foot is upon the threshold of fortune.
Congratulate me.

VI. THE PARADE, BRADFIELD, 7th March, 1882.

It is only two days since I wrote to you, my dear old chap, and yet I
find myself loaded to the muzzle and at full cock again. I have come to
Bradfield. I have seen old Cullingworth once more, and I have found
that all he has told me is true. Yes; incredible as it sounded, this
wonderful fellow seems to have actually built up a great practice in
little more than a year. He really is, with all his eccentricities, a
very remarkable man, Bertie. He doesn't seem to have a chance of showing
his true powers in this matured civilisation. The law and custom hamper
him. He is the sort of fellow who would come right to the front in
a French Revolution. Or if you put him as Emperor over some of these
little South American States, I believe that in ten years he would
either be in his grave, or would have the Continent. Yes; Cullingworth
is fit to fight for a higher stake than a medical practice, and on a
bigger stage than an English provincial town. When I read of Aaron Burr
in your history I always picture him as a man like C.

I had the kindest of leave takings from Horton. If he had been my
brother he could not have been more affectionate. I could not have
thought that I should grow so fond of a man in so short a time. He
takes the keenest interest in my venture, and I am to write him a full
account. He gave me as we parted a black old meerschaum which he had
coloured himself--the last possible pledge of affection from a smoker.
It was pleasant for me to feel that if all went wrong at Bradfield, I
had a little harbour at Merton for which I could make. Still, of course,
pleasant and instructive as the life there was, I could not shut my eyes
to the fact that it would take a terribly long time before I could save
enough to buy a share in a practice--a longer time probably than my poor
father's strength would last. That telegram of Cullingworth's in which,
as you may remember, he guaranteed me three hundred pounds in the first
year, gave me hopes of a much more rapid car