his business really must have been to him. In early life he had been a
surgeon in the navy, and was said, and I believe with justice, to be
very clever in his profession. In defending himself against some act of
oppression on the part of his captain--for in those times the service
was very different to what it is now--he had incurred the displeasure of
the Navy Board, and had left the service. His enemies (for even the
doctor had his enemies) asserted that he was turned out of the service;
his friends, that he left the service in disgust; after all, a matter of
little consequence. The doctor is now gone, and has left behind him in
the town of Greenwich a character for charity and generosity of which no
one can deprive him. He was buried in Greenwich churchyard; and never
was there, perhaps, such a numerous procession as voluntarily followed
his remains to the grave. The poor fully paid him the debt of gratitude,
if they did not pay him their other debts; and when his will was opened,
it was found that he had released them all from the latter. Peace be to
him, and honor to his worth!

The shop of Dr. Tadpole was fitted up in a very curious manner, and
excited a great deal of admiration. During his service afloat he had
collected various objects of natural history, which he had set up or
prepared himself: the lower rows of bottles in the windows were full of
snakes, lizards, and other reptiles; the second tier of bottles in the
window were the same as are now generally seen--large globes containing
blue and yellow mixtures, with gold hieroglyphics outside of them; but
between each of these bottles was a stuffed animal of some kind,
generally a small monkey, or of that description. The third row of
bottles was the most incomprehensible: no one could tell what was in
them; and the doctor, when asked, would laugh and shake his head: this
made the women very curious. I believe they were chiefly preparations of
the stomach, and other portions of the interior of the animal frame; but