Now the Doctor had one resort, which, among the people of Sevenoaks, was infallible, whenever he wished to check argumentation on any subject relating to his profession.  Any man who undertook to argue a medical question with him, or make a suggestion relating to medical treatment, he was in the habit of flooring at once, by wisely and almost pityingly shaking his head, and saying:  “It’s very evident to me, sir, that you’ve not received a medical education.”  So, when Jim suggested, in his peculiar way, that the woman ought to be treated better, the Doctor saw the point, and made his usual response.

“Mr. Fenton,” said he, “excuse me, sir, but it’s very evident that you’ve not had a medical education.”

“There’s where you’re weak,” Jim responded.  “I’m a reg’lar M.D., three C’s, double X, two I’s.  That’s the year I was born, and that’s my perfession.  I studied with an Injun, and I know more ’arbs, and roots, and drawin’ leaves than any doctor in a hundred mile; and if I can be of any use to ye, Doctor, there’s my hand.”

And Jim seized the Doctor’s hand, and gave it a pressure which raised the little man off the floor.

The Doctor looked at him with eyes equally charged with amusement and amazement.  He never had been met in that way before, and was not inclined to leave the field without in some way convincing Jim of his own superiority.

“Mr. Fenton,” said he, “did you ever see a medulla oblongata?”

“Well, I seen a good many garters,” replied the woodsman, ’in the stores, an’ I guess they was mostly oblong.”

“Did you ever see a solar plexus?” inquired the Doctor, severely.

“Dozens of ’em.  I allers pick a few in the fall, but I don’t make much use of ’em.”

“Perhaps you’ve seen a pineal gland,” suggested the disgusted Doctor.

“I make ’em,” responded Jim.  “I whittle ’em out evenin’s, ye know.”

“If you were in one of these cells,” said the Doctor, “I should think you were as mad as a March hare.”

At this moment the Doctor’s attention was called to a few harmless patients who thronged toward him as soon as they learned that he was in the building, begging for medicine; for if there is anything that a pauper takes supreme delight in it is drugs.  Passing along with them to a little lobby, where he could inspect them more conveniently, he left Jim behind, as that personage did not prove to be so interesting and impressible as he had hoped.  Jim watched him as he moved away, with a quiet chuckle, and then turned to pursue his investigations.  The next cell he encountered held the man he was looking for.  Sitting in the straw, talking to himself or some imaginary companion, he saw his old friend.  It took him a full minute to realize that the gentle sportsman, the true Christian, the delicate man, the delightful companion, was there before him, a wreck—­cast out from among his fellows, confined in a noisome cell, and hopelessly given over to his vagrant fancies