Cinder-strewn
paths, black as though stained by the weary miners who
toil along them, lead through the tarnished fields to the
rows of smoke-stained cottages. How can any young
unmarried man accept such a lot while there's an empty
hammock in the navy, or a berth in a merchant forecastle?
How many shillings a week is the breath of the ocean
worth? It seems to me that if I were a poor man--well,
upon my word, that "if" is rather funny when I think
that many of the dwellers in those smoky cottages have
twice my salary with half my expenses.
Well, as I said, my spirits sank lower and lower
until they got down into the bulb, when on looking
through the gathering gloom I saw "Merton" printed on the
lamps of a dreary dismal station. I got out, and was
standing beside my trunk and my hat-box, waiting for a
porter, when up came a cheery-looking fellow and asked me
whether I was Dr. Stark Munro. "I'm Horton," said he;
and shook hands cordially.
In that melancholy place the sight of him was like a
fire on a frosty night. He was gaily dressed in the
first place, check trousers, white waistcoat, a flower in
his button hole. But the look of the man was very much
to my heart. He was ruddy checked and black eyed, with
a jolly stout figure and an honest genial smile. I felt
as we clinched hands in the foggy grimy station that I
had met a man and a friend.
His carriage was waiting, and we drove out to his
residence, The Myrtles, where I was speedily introduced
both to his family and his practice.
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