It was in the early spring of 1846, that, having finished my obligatory medical studies and passed the first M.B. examination at the London University, though I was still too young to qualify at the College of Surgeons, I was talking to a fellow-student (the present eminent physician, Sir Joseph Fayrer), and wondering what I should do to meet the imperative necessity for earning my own bread, when my friend suggested that I should write to Sir William Burnett, at that time Director-General for the Medical Service of the Navy, for an appointment.  I thought this rather a strong thing to do, as Sir William was personally unknown to me, but my cheery friend would not listen to my scruples, so I went to my lodgings and wrote the best letter I could devise.  A few days afterwards I received the usual official circular of acknowledgment, but at the bottom there was written an instruction to call at Somerset House on such a day.  I thought that looked like business, so at the appointed time I called and sent in my card while I waited in Sir William’s anteroom.  He was a tall, shrewd-looking old gentleman, with a broad Scotch accent, and I think I see him now as he entered with my card in his hand.  The first thing he did was to return it, with the frugal reminder that I should probably find it useful on some other occasion.  The second was to ask whether I was an Irishman.  I suppose the air of modesty about my appeal must have struck him.  I satisfied the Director-General that I was English to the backbone, and he made some inquiries as to my student career, finally desiring me to hold myself ready for examination.  Having passed this, I was in Her Majesty’s Service, and entered on the books of Nelson’s old ship the “Victory,” for duty at Haslar Hospital, about a couple of months after my application.

My official chief at Haslar was a very remarkable person, the late Sir John Richardson, an excellent naturalist and far-famed as an indomitable Arctic traveller.  He was a silent, reserved man, outside the circle of his family and intimates; and having a full share of youthful vanity, I was extremely disgusted to find that “Old John,” as we irreverent youngsters called him, took not the slightest notice of my worshipful self, either the first time I attended him, as it was my duty to do, or for some weeks afterwards.  I am afraid to think of the lengths to which my tongue may have run on the subject of the churlishness of the chief, who was, in truth, one of the kindest-hearted and most considerate of men.  But one day, as I was crossing the hospital square, Sir John stopped me and heaped coals of fire on my head by telling me that he had tried to get me one of the resident appointments, much coveted by the assistant-surgeons, but that the Admiralty had put in another man.  “However,” said he, “I mean to keep you here till I can get you something you will like,” and turned upon his heel without waiting for the thanks I stammered out.  That explained how it was I had not been packed off to the West Coast of Africa like some of my juniors, and why, eventually, I remained altogether seven months at Haslar.