Hamilton was another of Simpson's teachers who exhibited the same uncompromising fighting characteristics--eager and strenuous in his efforts to obtain some object--which Simpson himself afterwards displayed. He fought hard for fifteen years to gain recognition for the subject which he taught, and to have it included in those necessary for qualification. He succeeded in the end, but in the course of the struggle had to bring two actions at law against professional brethren. In one the defendant was Dr. Gregory, whose teaching was mainly responsible for the British system of medical practice in the early part of this century, viz., free purging, free bleeding, and frequent blistering, and who was the inventor of that well known household remedy, Gregory's powder. Gregory was also a pugnacious man and could not abide the pretensions of the representative of the despised art of midwifery; he administered a public caning to him, and had to pay L100 in damages which, it is said, he offered to pay over again for another opportunity of thrashing the little obstetrician. This encounter occurred before Simpson became a student, but the memory of it was frequently revived in the subsequent disputes which Hamilton carried on. The notes which Simpson took of the curriculum lectures were concisely made and full of comments, criticisms, and queries. He by no means bowed down to authority; he allowed nothing to pass which he did not understand at the time, and specially noted points which it seemed to him his teachers themselves did not understand. Like most young men of his abilities and temperament, Simpson took pleasure in rhyming, and some of his verses are preserved. They indicate something of the rollicking spirit of the medical student's life seventy years ago. The medical student at that date has been described in a recent interesting sketch of Edinburgh student life as wearing a white great-coat and talking loud; his hat was inclined knowingly to one side of his head, and the bright hues of an Oriental handkerchief decorated his neck. There was a great deal of acting in his motions. He was first at the door of the theatre on a Saturday night, and regardless of the damages sustained by the skirts of his coat, secured the very middle seat of the fifth row of benches in the pit. Simpson, however, hardly conformed to this description. He enjoyed recreation as much as any man, and had a keen sense of humour which made him popular among his fellow students, but he was saturated with the love of study and was not led into extravagances of the Bob Sawyer type, or the harmless inanities of Albert Smith's immortal Medical Student.