"You can go back to Dr. Cullingworth, and tell him
that I have as much to do as I care for," said I. "If
you spy upon me after this it will be at your own risk."
He shuffled and coloured, but I walked on and saw him
no more. There was no one on earth who could have had a
motive for wanting to know exactly what I was doing
except Cullingworth; and the man's silence was enough in
itself to prove that I was right. I have heard nothing
of Cullingworth since.
I had a letter from my uncle in the Artillery, Sir
Alexander Munro, shortly after my start, telling me that
he had heard of my proceedings from my mother, and that
he hoped to learn of my success. He is, as I think you
know, an ardent Wesleyan, like all my father's people,
and he told me that the chief Wesleyan minister in the
town was an old friend of his own, that he had learned
from him that there was no Wesleyan doctor, and that,
being of a Wesleyan stock myself, if I would present the
enclosed letter of introduction to the minister, I should
certainly find it very much to my advantage. I thought
it over, Bertie, and it seemed to me that it would be
playing it rather low down to use a religious
organisation to my own advantage, when I condemned them
in the abstract. It was a sore temptation, but I
destroyed the letter.
I had one or two pieces of luck in the way of
accidental cases. One (which was of immense importance
to me) was that of a grocer named Haywood, who fell down
in a fit outside the floor of his shop.
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