A gentleman to whose family he has frequently been called, appears.
"Oh! doctor, lose not a moment; my little Willie is dying with the
croup!"
There is no resisting this appeal. The still wet overcoat and boots
are drawn on; medicine case hastily seized, and the doctor rushes
forth again into the storm.
Pity for his faithful horse induces him to traverse the distance on
foot, and a rapid walk of half a mile brings him to the house.
It was no needless alarm. The attack was a severe one, and all his
skill was required to save the life of the little one. It was
daylight ere he could leave him with safety. Then, as he was about
departing for his own home, an express messenger arrived to entreat
him to go immediately to another place nearly a mile in an opposite
direction.
Breakfast was over ere he reached his own house. His thoughtful wife
suggested a nap; but a glance at the already well-filled slate
showed this to be out of the question. A hasty toilet, and still
hastier breakfast, and the doctor is again seated in his chaise,
going on his accustomed rounds; but we will not now accompany him.
Let us pass over two or three months, and invite ourselves to
another ride. One pleasant morning, when less pressed with business,
he walks leisurely from the house to the chaise, and gathering up
the reins with a remarkably thoughtful air, rides slowly down the
street.
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