“Well, you can take him, Sambo. I won’t stand for thirty dollars on a mule trade, nohow.”
There is a female practitioner in St. Louis who earns above ten thousand dollars a year, and her individual fees are moderate at that.
Another doctress, Mrs. Ormsby, of Orange, N. J., accumulates some fifteen thousand a year, and is in turn outstripped by another woman practising in New York, who gets nearly twenty thousand dollars a year. Such certainly possess great business tact, with or without professional merit, and for such let all men give them credit.
Several female doctors in Boston receive from three to five thousand dollars each, yearly.
It is too often the case that a physician’s success is reckoned, like a tradesman’s, by what he has gained in a pecuniary point of view. There are, however, thousands of worthy men, successful with their cases, who, from less acquisitiveness than benevolence, have failed in securing more than a bare competence, through a life devoted to their profession.
A SHARP MULE TRADE.
I presume nearly every physician who has experienced a dozen years in practice has some mementos of his poor patients’ gratitude, in the form, if not of an ebony bird, or a black cat-skin, of something possessing more beauty, and, to the benevolent heart, which always beats within the breast of every true physician, keepsakes prized above gold and silver.
“Who has not kept some trifling thing,
More prized, more prized, than jewels rare,
A faded flower, a broken ring,
A tress of golden hair, a tress of golden hair?”
A very benevolent physician, and a sexagenarian, of New York city, wrote, twenty years ago, “I even yet enjoy a sort of melancholy satisfaction in hastening to relieve the suffering poor of my neighborhood, though I know that my reward will be very small, or, what is far more frequent, that I shall be paid with ingratitude, if not slander.