For three weeks I lay in my bed, an attentive observer of the singular scenes that occurred in my apartment. I was visited every morning by a student in surgery, or "dresser," and twice a week by one of the regular surgeons of the establishment while going his rounds. My general health was good, notwithstanding a want of that exercise and fresh air to which I had been accustomed. My appetite was remarkable; indeed, my greatest, if not only cause of complaint, was the very STINTED QUANTITY of daily food that was served out to each individual. No discrimination was observed; the robust young man, with an iron constitution, was, so far as related to food, placed on a par with the poor invalid, debilitated with protracted suffering or dying of inappetency. In every other situation in which I have been placed I have had abundance of food. Sometimes the food was of a quality deplorably wretched, it is true, but such as it was there was always enough. But in the Liverpool Infirmary I experienced the miseries of SHORT ALLOWANCE, and had an opportunity to witness the effect it produces in ruffling the temper and breeding discontent. It also opened my eyes to the instinctive selfishness of man. Those who were in sound health, with good appetites, although apparently endued with a full share of affections and sympathies, seemed actually to rejoice when one of their companions, through suffering and debility, was unable to consume his allowance of bread or porridge, which would be distributed among the more healthy inmates of the apartment. Chapter XV. SCENES IN A HOSPITAL. At the expiration of three weeks the dresser informed me he was about to case my fractured limb in splints and bandages, when I might quit my mattress, don my garments, and hop about the room or seat myself by the fireside. This was good news, but my joy was somewhat dampened by the intelligence that I could not be furnished immediately with a pair of crutches, all belonging to the establishment being in use. I borrowed a pair occasionally for a few minutes, from an unfortunate individual who was domiciled in my apartment, and sometimes I shuffled about for exercise with a stout cane in my right hand, and a house-brush, in an inverted position under my left arm, in lieu of a crutch. I witnessed many interesting scenes during my stay in the Infirmary, and fell in with some singular individuals, all of which showed me phases of human life that I had never dreamed of. The tall, military-looking man, with whom I became acquainted soon after I entered the establishment, proved to have been a soldier. He had served for years in a regiment of heavy dragoons, and attained the rank of corporal. He had sabred Frenchmen by dozens during the unsuccessful campaign in Holland under the Duke of York. He fought his battles over again with all the ardor and energy of an Othello, and to an audience as attentive, although, it may be, not so high-born or beautiful.