And the ladies laughed in unison, in which the widow actually joined.
“But what has become of the poor, wet fellow? And did John rescue the saddle-bags?” inquired the widow.
John, meantime, had returned to the doctor’s assistance. He now fished out the saddle-bags, and the unfortunate doctor started on foot for home, whither the pony had long since fled.
The story, in the mouth of one servant and three ladies, was anything but a secret, and—you know how it is in the country.
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The widow still holds the farm in her own name, in a town in New England.
Dr. Filley practises physic in California.
A scientific Gourmand.
Our familiar friend, “A Book about Doctors,” which we have before introduced to your notice as the only amusing work in the English language, upon the subject, gives a long list of bon vivants of the old school, amongst whom are some eminent names in the medical profession. In fact, the abstemious doctors during the past centuries would seem to have been far in the minority. Even Harvey was accused of being fond of brandy.
“Dr. George Fordyce was fond of substantial fare, like Radcliffe, who was a gormand. For above twenty years Fordyce dined at Dolly’s chop-house. The dinner he there consumed was his only meal during the four and twenty hours.