in-door garden-patch, as it were."

[Illustration: "'A HIND-QUARTER OF LAMB GAMBOLLING
ABOUT ITS NATIVE HEATH'"]

"No," returned the Doctor; "and it is a good thing there isn't. There is
enough sickness in the world without bringing any of your _rus_ ideas
_in urbe_. I've lived in the country, sir, and I assure you it is not
what it is written up to be. Country life is misery, melancholy, and
malaria."

"You must have struck a profitable section, Doctor," returned the Idiot,
taking possession of three steaming buckwheat cakes to the dismay of Mr.
Whitechoker, who was about to reach out for them himself. "And I should
have supposed that your good business sense would have restrained you
from leaving."

"Then the countryman is poor--always poor," continued the Doctor,
ignoring the Idiot's sarcastic comments.

"Ah! that accounts for it," observed the Idiot. "I see why you did not
stay; for what shall it profit a man to save a patient if practice, like
virtue, is to be its own reward?"

"Your suggestion, sir," retorted the Doctor, "betrays an unhealthy frame
of mind."

"That's all right, Doctor," returned the Idiot; "but please do not
diagnose the case any further. I can't afford an expert opinion as to my
mental condition. But to return to our subject: you two gentlemen appear