benevolence of his Maker. So onward, through abating suburb and increasing town, to the zone of the Effectual. Of impatient carts that won't wait for the snow to thaw, but snap it up and carry it away without offering to account for their conduct; of mowing-machines fitted with Brobdingnag revolving hair-brushes that will have to be washed now to be put to their proper use again, after sweeping up all that equivocal mess parallel with the kerbstone; of turncocks looking happy from human appreciation in great force, and alone able to cope with obstructions or relaxations in the bowels of the earth whose nature we outsiders can only dimly guess at. So travelling onward, on foot and by tram, the Rev. Athelstan arrived at his destination, and slipping the fare he had provided for the cab he had discarded into the contribution-box at the gate, entered St. Brides Hospital. "I didn't know you were in these parts, Taylor," said his friend, the House Surgeon. "Haven't seen you for a century.... Yes!--I know I am right. It's two years next Lady Day. How's the family? How's Miss Caldecott?... all right, are they? That's well. Now let's have a look at you. Turn round to the light...." "I'm all right." "Didn't say you weren't. Let's have a look! Turn well round and show yourself ... h'm!" "Well!--what's the matter?" "I thought as much! You've been dissipating, my man. _Your_ sort of dissipation! What was it this time? You've been up all night, my good sir! It's no use your trying to deceive me." "'I will not deceive you, my sweet!'" Mr. Taylor quoted Mrs. Gamp, and was understood. "I chanced upon a bad case of _delirium tremens_ threatening its lawful wife with a knife, and I stayed to see it out. Poor fellow!" "H'm--why poor fellow?" "Because I locked him up and went for the doctor round the corner. He said he knew you. Man of the name of Ferris. Good sort of little chap...." "I know him. Saw him yesterday--came to see a patient here. Well!--what did he say to your man?" "He never saw him alive. While I was away the poor fellow escaped out of the room, ran a mile and a half through the snow, and pitched himself into a canal-lock.... Oh yes!--he was fished out dead from under the ice...." "Rather a good job, I should think.... However, perhaps I oughtn't to say that...." "Glad to hear you say so, Crumpton! It sounds hopeful." "I didn't mean that way. I meant he might have been an interesting case. Anyhow, there's an end of _him_!" "I wish I could think that. But suppose I tell you what brings me here now: we can quarrel about the human soul after. I want to hear about a man that was brought in yesterday night, a blind sailor-beggar that was run over. Have you seen him?" "Rather! I helped to get his leg off, just above the knee. A very good case--a very good case!" "What does that mean!--a very good case?"