At first folks shook their heads, and muttered "Quackery;" but one or two bad cases, which had been given over as hopeless by the principal, being successfully pulled through by the assistant, they began to think that after all there was something in the young fellow; and the surgical skill he displayed when, together with every other available medical man, he was called to the scene of the fearful railway accident at Billingdon, confirmed their opinion. A year after this, old Johnstone died suddenly, and Wilson, after a brisk competition, bought his practice. Directly he felt himself his own master, he allowed his ideas a free scope, and consequently in a very short time his undoubted talent made itself known throughout the country-side, and the practice increased so enormously that, young and energetic as he was, he found it necessary to take an assistant, choosing after much deliberation the son of an old college chum and fellow-student. "Why, Doctor, who'd have thought of seeing you to-day? I thought you were at Lorton all last night," exclaims Mr. Noble, Lord Slowboy's agent, who rides up as Sir John finishes his repartee. "So I was, Noble," replies our M.D., "but her ladyship, I am thankful to say, let me off at half-past five; and, as I was just telling Sir John, there being nothing else for me to do this weather, I thought I would come out on the chance of a job in the field." "I hope you may be disappointed, then, for once. What a blood-thirsty villain! Did you ever hear such a thing, Boulter?" says the Master to the Secretary, who has just arrived on a new steed. "Hear what?" rejoins that worthy. "Why," continues Sir John, "the Doctor here says he saw you pass his window on that new horse, and has come out to follow in your wake all day, as he feels convinced you will break your neck, leg, or arm, or do something which he can turn into a fee." "Don't you believe it," interrupts Mr. Wilson with a laugh; "it would not pay me to mend you, for directly you got well you'd be dunning me for a subscription, and I might whistle for my fees. But look at Tom; he evidently thinks it is time to be moving. Who-ho, old lady" (to his horse), "who-ho," as old Tom, having got the signal, trots by with the pack, and, lifting his cap in response to the Doctor's greeting, says: "Main glad to see you out, Doctor; hope we shall find a good 'un for you." In a few minutes the hounds are thrown in, and Mr. Wilson finds himself with Mr. Halston (the clergyman) and Charles at a convenient corner of the covert. As bad luck will have it, though, the fox breaks away on the far side. "Bless my soul, this is rough," exclaims the Doctor; "come on;" and putting old Ladybird at the fence he goes crashing through the wood, followed by his two companions. As they emerge on the other side they see the hounds streaming away some three fields off below them, and have the satisfaction of knowing that for once they have got as bad a start as could well be.