Arthur Conan Doyle: A Life in Letters. Daniel Stashower

a day. In spite of his exertions and the medicine the patient died soon afterwards, and a benighted coroner had the bad taste to insist on holding an inquest, which brought in a verdict of homicide, and only that they hushed the matter up he would have picked oakum.

I have been experimenting upon myself with Gelsemium. Mrs H said she would write to you unless I stopped it. I increased my dose until I reached 200 minims, and had some curious physiological results. I drew them up and sent them to the British Medical but I’m afraid they won’t put them in.*

There is a pestilent little quack here, or rather a firm, Smith and Hues. The latter is a qualified man but a sleeping partner. Smith is the perfect type of a quack. I have written out a most preposterous case and sent it to the Lancet in Hues’ name. It is told most gravely and scientifically. If the Doctor sees anything about an eel in the Lancet that is the letter. RR is in ecstasies about it. ;

No, Lottie, 14. I’ll explain why in my next letter. ;

      to Mary Doyle BIRMINGHAM

      Rain, Rain. Nothing but rain, splashing in the streets, and gurgling in the gutters, everything sloppy and muddy, that’s my experience of Birmingham. The houses are of a horrid brick colour, the streets are yellow, the sky is leaden. What other grumbles have I to grumble? Nothing else I think, and I have a good deal to say on the other side of the question. The Free Libraries are splendid, the people are pleasant, everything is cheap, Dr Drummond is a regular brick, Hoare is another, and Madam is a female of the same genus; on the whole I am very comfortable indeed. The things are cheap with a vengeance, I never saw anything like it.

      Bourchier is got up ‘a la Brum’ regardless of expense, he has a smoking cap, a blue serge suit, neat boots, lavender necktie. Here is the little bill he had to pay for them, and mind they are really nice looking

      Smoking Cap 81/2d

      Serge Suit 25/

      Walking Boots 10/6

      Necktie 1/

      Not a bad investment on the whole. I got a very pleasant chatty eight pager from Jimmy which I shall duly answer. It quite raised my spirits—not that they were below par originally.

      Dr Drummond is a very good fellow, we split a bottle of champagne and had a very pleasant evening. I’ll try and get over to G[amgee] since you wish it, tho’ I dont see how I am to manage it. You see we have breakfast at 9, then until 10.30 I am attending to patients, after that I have nothing much to do until dinner at 2, but those are just the hours when every doctor is out. After dinner I write out all H’s visits, and make up bottles until tea at 6. Then till eight are our consulting hours and after that I am generally free. I work pretty hard for my £2, I think.

      I did rather a foolish thing the other day. A little German called Gleiwitz, a doctor and professor, and one of the very first Arabian and Sanskrit scholars in Europe, comes here to give Mrs H German lessons. He is a man of European name, but he has lost money in speculation and came at last to such a pass that Mrs H is the only pupil he has, and on what she pays him he keeps himself, and 3 children. Last time he was here he drew me aside, and told me with tears in his eyes that his children were starving at home, had had no breakfast, and could I help him to keep his head above water for a week or so, when he hoped he would have an opening. I told him I was as poor a man as he, ‘barrin’ the children, that I had only 1/6 in the world, but that I would do what I could; So I gave him my watch and chain and told him to go and pop them, which I am bound to say he was very unwilling to do. However he sailed away with them at last, and I hope got something decent for them. I think he is an honest man, he certainly is a very learned one. My best way would be to get the ticket from him when I get my money, and rescue the watch, and then stand my chance of his paying the money back to me.

      Why don’t you write oftener & longer Eh?

      to Mary Doyle BIRMINGHAM

      I have quite a number of small sums which are always eluding my poverty stricken grasp. However I am not doing so badly; it may interest you to see my exact financial position at present. It might be headed Great Expectations.

      Moneys in hand July 15^th £2/5/0

      Due from Boss on Deaclyon plaster purchased 5d

      Mrs Thompson. Arthur Sr. 10/6

      Salary for next 4 months £8

      Promised by patient with herpes zoster if I can cure him in a given time, viz one calendar month 10/

      From Chambers (?)

      For ‘The Haunted Grange of Goresthorpe’ (?)

      Extra screw from the Governor for zeal and attention in bookkeeping…something sometime.

      Besides that I can always allow 5/ a month winnings at vingt-et-une. And old Gleiwitz owes me 15/ which I intend to have or I’ll make Birmingham too hot to hold him, so hurrah for the man of money!

      I have had a deep grief this morning, my young heart is bruised and bleeding. I always smoke clay pipes now, and I had such a beauty, black as coal all through my own smoking, and this morning it fell out of my pocket and smashed. I am going up to town to buy a good Dublin one, so you may deduct the penny from my list. It was such a nice pipe! ‘Oh, the pity of it, Iago!’

      Hoare’s children are boy and girl, 6 and 10. Very nice children, if they weren’t spoiled. I spend half my spare time cutting out big English Guardsmen and little French Zouaves, and making them stand and fight for them, also teaching Mick to box.

       (Corporal Brewster tries to fill his clay pipe, but drops it. It breaks, and he bursts into tears with the long helpless sobs of a child.)

       Corporal: I’ve broke my pipe! my pipe!

       Norah (running to him and soothing him): Don’t, Uncle, oh, don’t!

       We can easy get another.

      —A Story of Waterloo

      to Mary Doyle BIRMINGHAM, JANUARY 30, 1880

      I know I am behaving very badly as a correspondent, but if you knew how little time I have, and how thoroughly fagged out I am before that little comes, you would excuse my delinquencies. How I am going to pass this exam I don’t know, but I suppose I’ll manage to scramble through somehow. Baird, my fellow assistant, is leaving on March 15^th and I must stay a few days to put the newcomer through his facings. Don’t you talk so glibly about Ireland & July & being capped. We must not crow until we are out of the wood.

      I am sorry to hear Jimmy has been ill—but I am thoroughly disgusted with the whole gang of them. Two letters and a Xmas card all unanswered and unnoticed. It’s enough to make a fellow cynical.

      Tell Conny her letter was charming as her letters always are. She must not think I was ungrateful for the pretty necktie—The fact is my gratitude was too deep for words. I thought I would break down if I attempted to express it. I shall write to her next.

      So Currie goes in the Hope. I shouldn’t think Currie will care much about sleeping with the mates—I should strongly object. I must write to him before he goes. He is a good fellow.

      I wonder if Tottie really has influence enough to get me this appointment in the Iberia. You would think that something might be made in fees out of these wealthy old dons. What screw does the surgeon get aboard? You have to pay for your uniform I suppose.

      I shall have to buy a pair of dancing boots this week as I am going to a ball on Friday. I have only £2/5 in the bank so I am not coining money. I feel down on my luck. Herbert Keyworth my