beginning in one of our large northern towns and ending as a
physician in London; but, although he was well known and
appreciated among his brethren, he failed to gain that sort of
reputation with the public which elevates a man into the position
of a great doctor. The ladies never liked him. In the first
place, he was ugly (Morgan will excuse me for mentioning this);
in the second place, he was an inveterate smoker, and he smelled
of tobacco when he felt languid pulses in elegant bedrooms; in
the third place, he was the most formidably outspoken teller of
the truth as regarded himself, his profession, and his patients,
that ever imperiled the social standing of the science of
medicine. For these reasons, and for others which it is not
necessary to mention, he never pushed his way, as a doctor, into
the front ranks, and he never cared to do so. About a year after
Owen came into possession of The Glen Tower, Morgan discovered
that he had saved as much money for his old age as a sensible man
could want; that he was tired of the active pursuit--or, as he
termed it, of the dignified quackery of his profession; and that
it was only common charity to give his invalid brother a
companion who could physic him for nothing, and so prevent him
from getting rid of his money in the worst of all possible ways,
by wasting it on doctors' bills. In a week after Morgan had
arrived at these conclusions, he was settled at The Glen Tower;
and from that time, opposite as their characters were, my two
elder brothers lived together in their lonely retreat, thoroughly
understanding, and, in their very different ways, heartily loving
one another.

Many years passed before I, the youngest of the three--christened
by the unmelodious name of Griffith--found my way, in my turn, to