d that her shop and the goodwill thereof were for
sale, I received a letter from my friend Tom Cobb, the doctor's
assistant, telling me that as he perceived he had now no chance of Mrs.
St. Felix, he had some idea of taking her shop, and setting up as a
tobacconist; his reasons were that physic was a bore, and going out of
nights when called up a still greater. I wrote to Lady O'Connor
inclosing Mr. Tom's letter, and pointed out to her that I thought it
would be a public benefit to prevent Tom from killing so many people, as
he certainly would do if he continued in his present profession, and
eventually set up for himself. She replied that she agreed with me, but
at the same time that she was anxious to benefit fat Jane, who really
was a very good girl; and that, therefore, she empowered me to enter
into a treaty with Mr. Thomas, by which, provided he could obtain the
lady's consent, he was to wed her, and receive the stock in trade, its
contents and fixtures, and goodwill, etc., as her portion.

As this was an offer which required some consideration before it was
refused, I wrote to Tom pointing out to him the advantages of settling
down with a good business, with a wife to assist him, and a cat and dog
all ready installed, upon such advantageous conditions. Tom agreed with
me, won the love of fat Jane, which was easily done, as he had no rival,
and in a short time was fairly set down as the successor of Mrs. St.
Felix. As for the doctor, he appeared to envy Tom his having possession
of the shop which his fair friend once occupied; he was inconsolable,
and there is no doubt but that he, from the period of her quitting
Greenwich, wasted away until he eventually was buried in the churchyard.
A most excellent man was Dr. Tadpole, and his death was lamented by
hundreds who esteemed his character, and many hundreds more who had
benefited not only by his advice, but by his charitable disposition.
About ten years after my marriage Ben the Whaler was summoned away. His
complaint was in the liver, which is not to be surprised at, considering
how many gallons of liquor he had drunk during his life.

Peter Anderson--my father, my friend, my preceptor--was for many years
inspecting boatswain of the hospital. At last he became to a certain
degree vacant in mind, and his situation was filled up by another. He
was removed to what they call the helpless ward, where he was well
nursed and attended. It is no uncommon, indeed I may say i