the place where he now was; he went only by
the appellation of No. 12--the number of his bed, which was next to
my own. This bed had already been his refuge during three long and
trying illnesses, and had at last become a sort of property for the
poor fellow in the eyes of doctors, students, nurse-tenders, in
fact, the whole hospital staff. Never did a gentler creature walk on
God's earth; walk--alas! for him the word was but an old memory.
Many years before he had totally lost the use of his legs; but, to
use his own expression, "this misfortune did not upset him;" he
still retained the power of earning his livelihood, which he derived
from copying deeds for a lawyer at so much per sheet; and if the
legs were no longer a support, the hands worked at the stamped
parchments as diligently as ever. But some months passed by, and
then the paralysis attacked his right arm; still undaunted, he
taught himself to write with the left; but hardly had the brave
heart and hand conquered the difficulty, when the enemy crept on,
and disabling this second ally, no more remained for him than to be
conveyed once more, though this time as a last resource, to the
hospital. There he had the gratification to find his former quarters
vacant, and he took possession of his old familiar bed with a
satisfaction that seemed to obliterate all regret at being obliged
to occupy it again. His first grateful accents smote almost
reproachfully on my ear: "Misfortune must have its turn, but _every
day has a tomorrow!_"

It was indeed a lesson to witness the gratitude of this excellent
creature. The hospital, so dreary a sojourn to most of its inmates,
was a scene of enjoyment to him; everything pleased him; and the
poor fellow's admiration of even the most trifling conveniences
proved how severe must have been his privations. He never wearied of
praising the neatness of the linen, the whiteness of the bread, the
quality of the food; and my surprise gave place to the truest pity,
when I learned that, for the last twenty years, this respectable old
man could only afford himself, out of the profits of his persevering
industry, the coarsest bread, diversified with white cheese, or
vegetable porridge; and yet, instead of reverting to his privations
in the language of complaint, he converted them into a fund of
gratitude, and made the generosity of the nation, which had provided
such a retreat for the suffering poor, his continual theme. Nor did
his thankfu