LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2290, 4 August 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A CLEVER DOCTOR. [" Boston Traveller."] About twenty years ago the Honorable and Reverend Edward Lambert, a clergyman of the Church of England, found that his health was growing infirm, a moral and physical languor seemed to take possession of him—that English melancholy which comes, no one knows why or wherefore, and he could not shake it off. Young, rich, handsome, eloquent, sure of preferment in the Churoh — what was the matter with the Honorable and Reverend Edward Lambert ?

He did what all Englishmen do when other remedies fail—ho crossed the channel. He thought he would seek the rays of the sun, that luminary so scarce in England. Perhaps it was the sun that ho needed. So one fine day he sailed for France, and soon found himself at Bouen, where he stayed for some days, taking every morning a walk around the cathedral, carrying a volume of Dante under his arm. One afternoon he walked up the Mont St. Catherine, and seating himßelf on the grass gravely devoted himßelf to the divine comedy. He hsd rcarcoly lost himself in Dante's stately measures when a stranger approached and with tho moat perfect courtesy addressed him, him If he were an Englishman, and, if so, if he would permit a few minutes' conversation. * I wish to p- rfeot myself in your language,' said the stranger, smiling, * and I always seize every opportunity to talk to an Englishman.' ' Yon already speak tho language fluently, said Mr Lambert, politely ; 'ait down, Monsieur.'

Resting on the turf, with a glorious view before them, the two young men soon found themselves talking glibly of the news of the day, of Dante, of rel'gion, politics, and the weather. The Frenchman was very agreeable, well educated, and up to the times on all points; he immediately told Mr Lambert that he was a doctor and practising his profession at Rouen.

It was natural that the young clergyman should speak to bim of his own case, which he did freely, askiDg tho doctor's advice. The doctor became extremely interested, and, upon examining Mr Lambert's tongue and pulse, gave him a prescription. They walked together to Rouen, and Mr Lambert then noticed that the doctor had a beautiful white dog. a pointer, which gamboled around his master's heels.

They separated as they reached the city, the doctor to go and see his patients, the clergyman to seek an apothecary where he got his prescription prepared. The next morning the Honorable and Reverend Mr Lambert was better. The doctor's prescription had made him sleep. It had given him strength ; he felt an appetite for breakfast. Months of treatment In London at the hands of the best physicians had not done this for him.

He wished to thank and remunerate the doctor, when he remembered that he did not know his nama. Inatinct told him however that he might meet him again on the Mont St. Catherine. So with renewed hope, health, and energy, he walked again to the top of the hill. In five minutes he was joined by the French doctor and his dog, who came bounding along with his pointer nose in the grass. The two men greeted each other with smiles, and shook hands cordially. ' You have saved my life, dootor,' said Mr Lambert, with unusual enthusiasm. ' Not at all, not at all, my dear friend,' said the doctor; I only gave you a good tonic, which also made you sleep. I found out (what none of my English brothers in medicine seem to have found out) that you have nothing the matter with you. Your system needs a little jogging, that is all. Railroad travel, my dear friend, wil' soon set you up. Now I dare ray you have been leading a very easy and sedentary life, now haven't you ? ' ' It is true, I have.' ' Take my advice, travel, ride day and night; take these syrups which I will give you; seek adventure, lead a more varied existence, and my friend—you are all right.' Now came the delicate question of money, and thp Englishman felt for the proverbial guinea. He tendered It to the French dootor, who laughingly pushed it away with a very soft, well-formed white hand.

• Never, never,' said he. ' For so light a service permit me to make my advice a return for a lesson in English conversation.'

It was gracefully done, and the embarrassed Englishman put back his gold into his pocket. 'Dootor,'said he, in a low voice, hesitatingly, ' I am an Englishman, and I hate to be under an obligation, You have lifted a load off my heart which has hung there for six months; you have made a new man of me. Now allow me to be of some service to you. I leavo here by rail at 1 o'clock tomorrow morning for Paris ; until then I am at your service, and for ever after. Can I do anything for you ?' The doctor reflected a moment, and looked at his dog. ' I don't know, indeed; and yet I do happen to think of one thing. Vou might save me a journey to Paris, which, with my engagements, is juso now inconvenient. But it is asking too much, perhaps.' ' What —how—too much ?' said tho olergyman. ' Well, I have a number of sick people under my charge whom I treit for diseases of the brain. One of these is a very rich womtn, who is slightly deranged. I hoped to have her cured here. Unhappily she has determined to return to Paris, and I have no authority to detain her. I perceive that she will fret until this oaprioe is gratified. 1 must go with her to place her in charge of friends, and I have been putting off from day to day because I cannot leave my other patients, the duty of taking her home Now, if you would escort her it would be a real service,' said the doctor •' My dear sir, a crazy youDg woman at 1 o'clock at night, and I a clergyman of the Church of England,' said Mr Lambert, forgetting his late gratitude. • Oh, she is forty-Bix, my dear air, and her mania is a very quiet one. She looks and acts like a sheep, poor woman, and she will scarcely speak to a stranger. Ido not know that she will go with you. The hour is rather early—one in the morning—but still, I might ask her, and It will be real favour to me.' * Bring her along, doctor !' said the clergyman, ashamed of his own reluctance ; ' bring her along—a sheep and forty-six; I will take care of your patient to Paris !' Talking in this way they reached the sates of the city. Before separating, tho doctor gave his card to Mr Lambert. ' An re voir,' said he, 'and perhaps adieu, my dear sir. Let me hear from you from time to time, and I hope, if we never meet again, that you will retain, a> I shall d ■">, an agreeable recollection of our acquaintance I may not see you again, as my friend may not be willing to go with you—adieu!' Mr Lambert gl.inced at the doctor's card, feeling anew the embarrassment of tho possible night journey with an insane woman, and regretting h'.s p'omise, in spite of his gratitude: He read on the card : 1 Dr de La Belle, Bue Antoine No. 11.'

Mr Lambert walked through the Bue Antoine and stopped at No. 11. It was a large, handsome home, with tho announcement In black letters on a brass plate, Doctour de la Belle.

At one o'clook In the morning Mr Lambeit waited with some anxiety in the depot the arrival of the train. Dr de La Belle had not arrived. The English clergyman rubbed his hands with great satisfaction—for he did not care for this particular responsibility—when some one touched him lightly on the shouldtr.

It wan the doctor. Seated on a bench was a lady in black, with her veil drawn over her face. 'I have taken a coupe,'said (ho doctor, 'so you will not be incommoded by other travellers. Here ifl mademoiselle's pu'ee, ticket, and little travelling satchel ; i erhaps she will need something. Have tho kindness to show he'-' ticket to the conductor. I have telegraphed to Paris to her friends, who will meet her at the station. She is a? quiet as a dove. Should yon find htr agitated, give her a drop of this essence on sugar ; here is the bntt'e. Monsieur Lambert, Mademoiselle.'

Ha then helped along the invalid lidy and put her in the corner of the coupe. He then, after arranging her with groat kindness, stepped cut, he'd Mr L«mbert 1 y

tke hands, and talked with French effusion, as the officials hurried passengers out and in. ' I trust you will have no trouble; adieu,' said he, giving a final word of kindness to his fair patient, and arranging her fjotetool. ' Oh, no ! I dare say not,' said Mr Lambert, bowing to the lady, and taking his seat by her side. 'But what a powerful oc"o: there is in tho coupe —will it not disturb the lady ? ' ' Oh, no; I think not,' said Dr. de La Belle ; ' I broke a bottle of cologne as I was helping her in. It will all disappear in a few moments.' The train departed; and Mr Lambert, who felt exceedingly wide awake, and who found Dr. de la Belle's cologne very strong, tried to draw his fair friend into a conversation. She was separated from bim by a high basket of flowers, the doctor's last iitti ntion. The poor insane woman would not answer a word, and from her immovable calm Mr Lambert ooncluded that she was asleep. When they arrived at Fails he determined that she should speak. (To be Continued!)