In the spring of 1860 it was thought advisable I should consult Sir B. Brodie, and my medical man (Mr. A——) went with me to London; but finding that Sir Benjamin was out of town he took me to Mr. D——, who affected to treat the matter very lightly, and said that I was to take a tonic, which he prescribed, and that as my health improved my knee would get well. He also sent me to a surgical bandage maker, who measured me for a knee cap which was to enable me to walk and take more exercise than I had hitherto done. This knee cap I was however unable to wear, until some months later, when, the inflammation having subsided, I found it gave me some support; but I was never able to wear it without much discomfort. Up to October 1865 (a period of six years and a quarter) I used crutches—sometimes two, at other times one crutch and a stout stick and was never at ease, the knee always stone cold when in bed or otherwise resting, and hot after exertion of any kind—the pain becoming acute whenever I attempted to use the limb beyond just crossing the room. During this period (six years) I spent a portion of every summer at the seaside, and was withdrawn almost entirely from business. At length after so long a course of treatment, I ceased to seek further advice, believing what I was told, that the cause of all my suffering was constitutional, and I settled down to the conclusion that I should be a cripple for life and that this was unavoidable. “In June, 1865, I was recommended by a friend to consult Mr. Hutton, but when I had learned he was an irregular practitioner, I declined; and it was not until October, when, owing to an accidental stumble against the door-sill, I was in much pain again, that I acceded to the earnest solicitations of my friends. I then wrote to him and made an appointment. At the first interview he came to me in the waiting-room and, looking me hard in the face, he said, ‘who sent you here?’ I told him who it was that recommended me to him. He said, ‘Do you know that I am not a regular surgeon?’ I answered, ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, then, what’s the matter with you?’ I told him I was lame. ‘Are those your sticks?’ pointing to the crutches. ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, let me look at your leg.’ He then instantly placed his thumb on the tender spot inside the knee, causing me great pain. I said, ‘Yes, that is the place, and no other.’ ‘Ah!’ he replied, ‘I thought so. That will do. How long have you been lame?’ ‘Six years.’ ‘What treatment have you had?’ I told him, and also that my lameness resulted from constitutional causes. He said, ‘Bah! If you had not had a pretty good constitution they would have killed you.’ I told him that I had seen Mr. D——. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘You might as well have seen my cook. He can’t cure that knee.’ I asked him what he thought was the matter with it. He said, ‘That knee is out; I’ll stake my reputation upon it, and I can cure it.’ I was ordered to apply linseed meal poultices for a week, and then go to him again, and