t
had come together by a solidification of vapour, or by the centrifugal
attraction of atoms. A few surmised that the platter might have
something to do with it; but the wisest of them could not deduce the
existence of a cow."

We are at one, he and I, in thinking that the infinite is beyond our
perception. We differ only in that he sees evil and I see good in the
working of the universe. Ah, what a mystery it all is! Let us be honest
and humble and think kindly of each other. There's a line of stars all
winking at me over the opposite roof--winking slyly at the silly little
person with the pen and paper who is so earnest about what he can never
understand.

Well, now, I'll come back to something practical. It is nearly a month
since I wrote to you last. The date is impressed upon my memory because
it was the day after Cullingworth shot the air-dart into my finger. The
place festered and prevented my writing to any one for a week or two,
but it is all right again now. I have ever so much of different sorts to
tell you, but really when I come to think of it, it does not amount to
very much after all.

First of all, about the practice. I told you that I was to have a room
immediately opposite to Cullingworth's, and that all the surgical cases
were to be turned over to me. For a few days I had nothing to do, except
to listen to him romping and scuffling with his patients, or making
speeches to them from the top of the stairs. However, a great "Dr. Stark
Munro, Surgeon," has been affixed to the side of the door downstairs,
opposite Cullingworth's plate; and a proud man was I when first my eyes
lit upon it. On the fourth day, however, in came a case. He little knew
that he was the first that I had ever had all to myself in my life.
Perhaps he would not have looked quite so cheerful if he had realised
it.

Poor chap, he had little enough to be cheery over either. He was an old
soldier who had lost a good many teeth, but who had continued to find
room between his nose and chin for a short black clay pipe. Lately there
appeared a small sore on his nose which had spread, and become crusted.
On feeling it I found it as hard as a streak of glue, with constant
darting pains passing through it. Of course, there could be no question
as to diagnosis. It was epitheliomatous cancer, caused by the irritation
of the hot tobacco smoke. I sent him back to his village, and two days
after I drove over in Cullingworth's dog-cart, and remo