In addition to his income from his hospital lectures, Mr. Cooper came into possession by his marriage of a fortune of fourteen thousand pounds, so that he was at once placed beyond any pecuniary anxiety. He consequently was enable to devote himself mainly to study and teaching. He went to the hospital before breakfast to dissect for lecture, and he also demonstrated to students before the lecture-hour. He injected their subjects, lectured from two till half-past three, and three evenings a week lectured on surgery. Further, he persevered in visiting the interesting cases in the hospital and making notes of them. His lectures on surgery, which he was the first in the Borough hospitals to separate from anatomy and physiology, were not at the beginning a conspicuous success. He found that he had been too theoretical, but soon changed his plan, and selected cases in the hospital as the basis of his lectures. From this moment his class increased and became interested. He himself acquired a facility in recalling cases and circumstances illustrative of the disease under consideration which greatly added to the attractiveness of his style. The fact is, he was not the intellectual successor of John Hunter, and could not succeed by similar methods. Yet the influence of Hunter upon him was unmixedly beneficial; he had the wit to perceive that Hunter was not “an imaginative speculator, and any one who believed in him a blockhead and a blacksheep in the profession.” The improved lectures on surgery attracted twice as many entries in 1793 as in 1792, and Mr. Cooper was besides selected as lecturer on anatomy at the College of Surgeons. A chief part of his duties in this latter capacity was to lecture on and dissect the bodies of executed criminals. The lectures were most successfully given to crowded audiences. In 1797 the now rising surgeon removed from his early residence in Jeffries Square, St. Mary Axe, to 12 St. Mary Axe, long occupied by Mr. Cline, who now moved westward. In the next year he had a severe accident, being thrown from his horse on his head, and his life was in considerable danger for some time. The extent of Mr. Cline’s consolatory sympathy, when Cooper was lamenting the risk to his life because of its interference with some professional inquiry likely to be of public benefit, was thus expressed: “Make yourself quite easy, my friend; the result of your disorder, whether fatal or otherwise, will not be thought of the least consequence by mankind.”