hile as to Cullingworth----well, it's rather
difficult to say what Cullingworth thinks about the matter.

When I woke next morning he was in my room, and a funny-looking object
he was. His dressing-gown lay on a chair, and he was putting up a
fifty-six pound dumb-bell, without a rag to cover him. Nature didn't
give him a very symmetrical face, nor the sweetest of expressions; but
he has a figure like a Greek statue. I was amused to see that both his
eyes had a touch of shadow to them. It was his turn to grin when I
sat up and found that my ear was about the shape and consistence of a
toadstool. However, he was all for peace that morning, and chatted away
in the most amiable manner possible.

I was to go back to my father's that day, but I had a couple of hours
with Cullingworth in his consulting room before I left. He was in his
best form, and full of a hundred fantastic schemes, by which I was to
help him. His great object was to get his name into the newspapers. That
was the basis of all success, according to his views. It seemed to
me that he was confounding cause with effect; but I did not argue the
point. I laughed until my sides ached over the grotesque suggestions
which poured from him. I was to lie senseless in the roadway, and to be
carried into him by a sympathising crowd, while the footman ran with a
paragraph to the newspapers. But there was the likelihood that the
crowd might carry me in to the rival practitioner opposite. In various
disguises I was to feign fits at his very door, and so furnish fresh
copy for the local press. Then I was to die--absolutely to expire--and
all Scotland was to resound with how Dr. Cullingworth, of Avonmouth, had
resuscitated me. His ingenious brain rang a thousand changes out of
the idea, and his own impending bankruptcy was crowded right out of his
thoughts by the flood of half-serious devices.

But the thing that took the fun out of him, and made him gnash his
teeth, and stride cursing about the room, was to see a patient walking
up the steps which led to the door of Scarsdale, his opposite neighbour.
Scarsdale had a fairly busy practice, and received his people at home
from ten to twelve, so that I got quite used to seeing Cullingworth fly
out of his chair, and rush raving to the window. He would diagnose
the cases, too, and estimate their money value until he was hardly
articulate.

"There you are!" he would suddenly yell; "see that man with a limp!
Every morning he go