“‘Only in one place,’ he whispered, touching his breast; and then no more was said for a minute or two, when I spoke a few encouraging words.
“‘No use, sir, no use,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t be cross with me. I couldn’t bear it any longer. I wanted to be with the wife and little ones once more. Tell ’em how it was.’
“The next morning the poor fellow was free—free from prison bonds—earthly bonds—all; and I was so upset with that affair that I sent in my resignation. It was returned to me with a note begging that I would reconsider my determination: and I did. But we have some most heart-rending cases at times.”
Chapter Twenty Two.
My Patient the Sailor.
“Why, how can you expect to be free from a few pains, old fellow?” I said to a regular ancient sea-dog, whom I used to attend. “Here you’ve been knocking about all over the world for best part of a hundred years, I suppose, and you can’t expect to be fresh and well now.”
“Well, you see, doctor,” said the old fellow, “that’s what troubles me. I’m—let’s see—eighty-four, or five, or six—I’m blest if I know exactly; and I’ve hardly known ache or pain, and it does seem hard, after having a clean bill of health so long, to be having my crew on the sick list now.”
“Why, you ungrateful old rascal!” I said, as I saw the mirthful twinkle in the old fellow’s eyes. “There, I’ll see what I can do for you;” and I did manage to allay the old fellow’s rheumatic pains, which in spite of his grumbling he had borne like a martyr.