Dr. Kyle. I was never an hospital mate, Mr. President; “Hospital Assistant to the Forces,” was my first appointment in the department.
President. Aweel, it’s a’ the self-same thing. When I first entered—noo sax-an’-twenty years—we had mates, an’ nae assistants at a’.
Dr. Kyle. You are perfectly right, there; the service had no assistants at that time, sure enough.
Dr. Adipose. (wiping his chin.) You are too severe, Kyle; au—hau—; you are, indeed, hau—; I’ll trouble you for a cut out of the thick end of that haunch of mutton; it looks delicious; au—hau—, good indeed—very good.
Dr. Kyle. I’ll send you a slice, Doctor, that will digest on its first contact with the gastric fluid;—there, Sir, there.
Dr. Adipose. Hau—, very good. I haven’t seen such a haunch as that since the last annual dinner of the society for the benefit of the widows of our department; that was delicious, too.
Capt. Beamish. Oh, you have a society, then, for the widows of your department, Doctor?
Dr. Adipose. Yes, yes; I’ll tell you all about it, by-and-by.—A little currant jelly, Thomas.
Dr. Kyle. Yes, Captain, to the laudable exertions of Sir James M’Grigor we are indebted for a valuable fund,—sufficient to protect our widows and our orphans, if it please God to leave them without other means.—Mr. Lintly, do you take mutton? Oh! Sir, it is a vast advantage.
Major Oldfield. ’Pon my honour, I am very happy to see such improvements in your department. When I entered the service, now fifty years ago, there was no department at all. A surgeon was something like our present military parson; he used to go about in plain clothes, or with a black coat and a military cocked hat: his pay was bad; and as to his assistant, he was a sort of lob-lolly-boy; but now, how different! Ah! the Duke, Heaven rest his soul! was the first who improved your department, Gentlemen, as well as every other belonging to the army.