The surgeon who attended Mr Primrose thought proper to take some blood from his patient, and to supply the place of the same by as many draughts as could be conveniently taken, or be reasonably given in the time. It was also recommended that the gentleman should be put to bed. The dwellings attached to turnpike gates are seldom so roomy and so abundantly provided with accommodation as to admit of an accidental visitor: but in the present case it so happened that there was an apartment unoccupied and not unfurnished. The gatekeeper’s wife, who was a notable and motherly kind of woman, said, that if the gentleman could put up with a very small apartment, and a coarse but clean bed, he might be accommodated, and he need not fear that the bed was damp, for it had been occupied for the last month, and had only been vacated the day before. Mr Primrose readily accepted the offer, not being very particular as to appearance. “I suppose,” said he, “you keep a spare bed for the accommodation of those who may be overturned in coming down this hill? Your surgeon, I find, does not live far off. That is a good contrivance. Pray can you tell me, within a dozen or two, how many broken bones the stage coach supplies him with in the course of the year?” At this speech the good woman laughed, for it was uttered in such a tone as intimated that the gentleman wished it to be laughed at; and as he was a respectable looking man, and carried in his aspect a promise to pay, the worthy wife of the gate-keeper laughed with right good will. “Oh dear no, sir,” said she, “there is not an accident happens here hardly ever. The coachman what overturned you this morning, is one of the most carefullest men in the world, only he had a new horse as didn’t know the road.” “A very great comfort is that,” said Mr Primrose, and he smiled, and the gate-keeper’s wife smiled, and she thought Mr Primrose a very funny man, that he should be able to joke when under the doctor’s hands. There are some people who are very facetious when they are sick, provided the sickness be not very acute; for it looks like heroism to laugh amidst pain and trouble. Mr Primrose then proceeded; “So you will assure me that the person who occupied your spare bed last, was not an overturned coach passenger?” The poor woman did not smile at this observation, but on the contrary looked very grave, and her eyes seemed to be filling with tears, when she compressed her lips and shook her head mournfully. With some effort, after a momentary silence, she said: “No, sir, it was not any one that was overturned; but it was a coach passenger. It was a young lady, poor dear soul! that seemed almost dying of a broken heart. But had not you better go to bed, sir? The doctor said you wanted rest.”