Neither now nor at any time did Simpson lose his habit of plain speech. He did not always conciliate others by his outspoken expressions, and he did not care to wrap up unpleasant truths in honeyed words. In 1839 some hasty words which passed between Simpson and Dr. Lewins of Leith in reference to an anonymous letter written by the latter, nearly led to a duel; but, fortunately, friends were able to persuade them that both were to blame, and an amicable reconciliation was effected. In the same year, that in which also he had commenced housekeeping on his own account, Simpson became a candidate for the Chair of Midwifery, vacated by Dr. Hamilton’s resignation. The contest was a very severe one, Dr. Evory Kennedy of Dublin having strong claims. Simpson strained every nerve to secure testimonials and to influence electors, publishing an octavo volume of testimonials, extending to more than 200 pages. He was finally elected Professor on the 4th February 1840 by a majority of one vote only, at the age of twenty-eight, with no advantages of social position or long experience to back him. A few weeks previously (December 26, 1839) he had married his second cousin, Miss Jessie Grindlay, of Liverpool, to whom he had long been attached. But difficulties were not over when the election had taken place. The pecuniary cost of the canvass was about £500, chiefly in printing and postage; and Simpson had less than no money; he was considerably in debt to his relatives. His new colleagues had to a large extent opposed him, preferring Dr. Kennedy; they continued to oppose him, not fancying their association with a small baker’s son. Practice began to flow in, but it necessitated taking a larger house, keeping a carriage, and much greater expenditure; and it was some time before the young couple could make both ends meet. Demands from old friends or from poor people for help, crowded on Simpson faster than fees; and his kindly heart did more for them than sober judgment would warrant. He frequently sat up all night writing for the press. He was beset remarkably early by philanthropic projectors, self-interested promoters, young aspirants to fame, and men anxious to bring forward a pill calculated to make people live to the age of Methusaleh, or desirous of the Doctor’s interest to get them permission to fish in one of his patients’ streams. Nervous headaches and acute pains began to cast their horrible shadows over his life; but work was scarcely ever remitted. His lectures were immediately a great success; he had the largest class in the University. Additional seats had to be supplied, and then there was not room for all to sit. His cares had meanwhile been increased by the birth of a daughter, a fortnight before the session began.