was over I remained at the hospital for another year, for I wished
to make a practical study of my profession in all its branches before
starting a private practice. At the end of this time my mother died
while still comparatively young. She had never really recovered from the
loss of my father, and, though it was long about it, sorrow sapped her
strength at last. Her loss was a shock to me, although in fact we had
few tastes in common. To divert my mind, and also because I was somewhat
run down and really needed a change, I asked a friend of mine who was a
director of a great steamship line running to the West Indies and Mexico
to give me a trip out, offering my medicine services in return for the
passage. This he agreed to do with pleasure; moreover, matters were so
arranged that I could stop in Mexico for three months and rejoin the
vessel on her next homeward trip.

After a very pleasant voyage I reached Vera Cruz. It is a quaint and in
some ways a pretty place, with its tall cool-looking houses and narrow
streets, not unlike Funchal, only more tropical. Whenever I think of it,
however, the first memories that leap to my mind are those of the stench
of the open drains and of the scavenger carts going their rounds with
the _zaphilotes_ or vultures actually sitting upon them. As it happened,
those carts were very necessary then, for a yellow fever epidemic was
raging in the place. Having nothing particular to do I stopped there
for three weeks to study it, working in the hospitals with the local
doctors, for I felt no fear of yellow fever--only one contagious disease
terrifies me, and with that I was soon destined to make acquaintance.

At length I arranged to start for the City of Mexico, to which in
those days the journey from Vera Cruz was performed by diligence as the
railway as not yet finished. At that time Mexico was a wild country.
Wars and revolutions innumerable, together with a certain natural