When I left Greenwich in 1817 or 1818, it was still standing, although certainly in a very dilapidated state.  I will, however, give a slight sketch of it, as it is deeply impressed on my memory.

It was a tall, narrow building of dark red brick, much ornamented, and probably built in the time of Queen Elizabeth.  It had two benches on each side the door; for, previous to Tadpole’s taking possession of it, it had been an alehouse, and much frequented by seamen.  The doctor had not removed these benches, as they were convenient, when the weather was fine, for those who waited for medicine or advice; and moreover, being a jocular, sociable man, he liked people to sit down there, and would often converse with them.  Indeed, this assisted much to bring him into notice, and made him so well known among the humbler classes that none of them, if they required medicine or advice, ever thought of going to any one but Dr. Tadpole.  He was very liberal and kind, and I believe there was hardly a poor person in the town who was not in his debt, for he never troubled them much about payment.  He had some little property of his own, or he never could have carried on such a losing concern as his business really must have been to him.  In early life he had been a surgeon in the navy, and was said, and I believe with justice, to be very clever in his profession.  In defending himself against some act of oppression on the part of his captain—­for in those times the service was very different to what it is now—­he had incurred the displeasure of the Navy Board, and had left the service.  His enemies (for even the doctor had his enemies) asserted that he was turned out of the service; his friends, that he left the service in disgust; after all, a matter of little consequence.  The doctor is now gone, and has left behind him in the town of Greenwich a character for charity and generosity of which no one can deprive him.  He was buried in Greenwich churchyard; and never was there, perhaps, such a numerous procession as voluntarily followed his remains to the grave.  The poor fully paid him the debt of gratitude, if they did not pay him their other debts; and when his will was opened, it was found that he had released them all from the latter.  Peace be to him, and honor to his worth!

The shop of Dr. Tadpole was fitted up in a very curious manner, and excited a great deal of admiration.  During his service afloat he had collected various objects of natural history, which he had set up or prepared himself:  the lower rows of bottles in the windows were full of snakes, lizards, and other reptiles; the second tier of bottles in the window were the same as are now generally seen—­large globes containing blue and yellow mixtures, with gold hieroglyphics outside of them; but between each of these bottles was a stuffed animal of some kind, generally a small monkey, or of that description.  The third row of bottles was the most incomprehensible:  no one could tell what was in them; and the doctor,