“He 'll do--he 'll do,” said Billy. “He's a sanguineous temperament, and he'll bear the lancet. It's just like weatherin' a point at say. If you have a craft that will carry canvas, there's always a chance for you.” “He perceived that you were not a doctor,” said Craggs, when they reached the corridor. “Did he, faix?” cried Billy, half indignantly. “He might have perceived that I did n't come in a coach; that I had n't my hair powdered, nor gold knee-buckles in my smallcloths; but, for all that, it would be going too far to say that I was n't a doctor! 'T is the same with physic and poetry--you take to it, or you don't take to it! There's chaps, ay, and far from stupid ones either, that could n't compose you ten hexameters if ye'd put them on a hot griddle for it; and there's others that would talk rhyme rather than rayson! And so with the _ars medicatrix_--everybody has n't an eye for a hectic, or an ear for a cough--_non contigit cuique adire Corintheum_. 'T is n't every one can toss pancakes, as Horace says.” “Hush--be still!” muttered Craggs, “here's the young master.” And as he spoke, a youth of about fifteen, well grown and handsome, but poorly, even meanly clad, approached them. “Have you seen my father? What do you think of him?” asked he, eagerly. “'Tis a critical state he's in, your honor,” said Billy, bowing; “but I think he 'll come round--_deplation, deplation, deplation--actio, actio, actio_; relieve the gorged vessels, and don't drown the grand hydraulic machine, the heart--them's my sentiments.” Turning from the speaker with a look of angry impatience, the boy whispered some words in the Corporal's ear. “What could I do, sir?” was the answer; “it was this fellow or nothing.” “And better, a thousand times better, nothing,” said the boy, “than trust his life to the coarse ignorance of this wretched quack.” And in his passion the words were uttered loud enough for Billy to overhear them. “Don't be hasty, your honor,” said Billy, submissively, “and don't be unjust. The realms of disaze is like an unknown tract of country, or a country that's only known a little, just round the coast, as it might be; once ye're beyond that, one man is as good a guide as another, _coeteris paribus_, that is, with 'equal lights.'” “What have you done? Have you given him anything?” broke in the boy, hurriedly.