“Why, doctor, what is in the wind now?”

The person who thus addressed him was a young man of probably not more than twenty-five years of age.  His dress indicated that he belonged to the wealthier class of citizens, and there was something pleasing in his manners and address.

“Glad to see you, William,” said the doctor.  “I want a crew; come, ship for a cruise.”

“But where away, doctor?”

“To Holden’s island, to visit a wounded man.  Jump aboard, and tend jib-sheets.”

By this time the sails were hoisted, and, the young man complying with the invitation, the little craft was soon under weigh, and rapidly proceeding down the river.  The distance was only three or four miles, and quickly passed over.  They were met on the beach by Holden, to whom the gentlemen were both known, but he was unable to inform them of the name of the wounded man.  As soon as the doctor beheld him, however, he exclaimed: 

“It is Mr. Pownal.  God forbid the hurt should be serious.”

The countenance of the doctor’s companion, and the few words he uttered, denoted also recognition of the stranger.

“So, my poor fellow,” said the doctor, as the sufferer extended a hand, and expressed in a few words his pleasure at the coming of the two, “that is enough, I claim a monopoly of the talking.”

He proceeded at once to examine the wound, which he did with great care and in silence.  He found, as Holden had said, that the charge had only grazed the surface, tearing the flesh from the side up to the shoulder, pretty deeply, indeed, but making an ugly, rather than a dangerous wound.  After the task was completed, and lint and fresh bandages were applied, the doctor sunk with a sigh, as of relief, upon a chair, and assured the young man that he only needed rest for the present, and in a day or two might return to his friends.

“I would rather lose six ordinary patients than you, Tom Pownal,” he said.  “Why you are my beau ideal of a merchant, the Ionic capital of the pillar of trade.  Now, let not your mind be

                ’Tossing on the ocean;
  There, where your argosies with portly sail,
  Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood;
  Or, as it were the pageants of the sea,
  Do overpower the petty traffickers.’

Quiet, my dear boy, both of mind and body, are your indispensables.  I want you to understand that: 

                ’I tell thee what, Antonio—­
  love thee, and It is my love that speaks.’”

Pownal promised to be very obedient, in consideration whereof the doctor guaranteed he should receive great satisfaction from his wound.  “You shall see for yourself,” he said, “how beautifully it will heal.  To a scientific eye, and under my instruction you shall get one, there is something delightful in witnessing the granulations.  We may say of Nature, as Dr. Watts sings of the honey-bee: