Not a ‘Buggy’ Doctor.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1013, 31 July 1891, Page 10

Not a ‘Buggy ’ Doctor.

The impression made on ignorant persons by a display of style is well illustrated by a story told of Dr Gilmore, the well known south-side physician and member of the Boax-d of D’. linage trustees. Some years ago, when Dr Gilmore was younger, he -went in for athletics to quite a degree. He was especially fond of pelesti'ianism, and had he chosen to enter one of the six days’ go-as-you-please contests he would have made a great record. One of his favourite modes of indxilging his love of walking was to make many of his professional visits on foot. Except for considerable distances or in cases of great urgency he woxxld not use his coupe. His lioi’ses waxed fat and lazy, his coachman’s place was a sinecxxre, but the doctor was becoming a great walker.

One day a call came to him to go to an address iix the territory between the railroad ti-acks west of State sti'eet. At that time none but very poor - people lived thei'e. Itailroad labourer's, dock laboui-ers, and other's of a like social and financial standing were the residents. Dr Gilmoi'e disdained calling oxxt his cai-riage for a half-mile trip, sohe set oxxt for the place oix foot. He found the place after some difficult search. It was a shanty, l'ather than a house, and it was occupied by a laboui’er in one of tbe neighbouring coal docks. His wife was sick. When Dr Gilmore knocked at the door it was opened by the man of the house, who asked wlrafc he wanted.

‘ I am the doctor you sent for,’ said Dr Gilmore.

The man looked up and down the street, as though expecting to see something. He was evidently disappointed, and he glanced srrspiciously at the doctor, and half hesitated about admitting him. He did so, however, and the physician prescribed for the sick woman. While the doctor was diagnosing the

case, the man of the house went again in quest of whatever he seemed to think should have accompanied the doctor. He looked up and down the street, and then examined the side streets and alley. When he returned to the house he was plainly in bad humour. He said, nothing, however, till the doctor was about to leave. ‘ How much is your bill, d rctor V he asked, with a sort of sarcastic emphasis on the last word.

‘ Two dollars/ replied the doctor. ‘ Divil a two dollars you’ll get from me/ said the coal-heaver. ‘ I don’t believe yer a doctor at all. Ho rale doctor would come walking through the mud. I’ll give yorr one dollar and not a cint else. Two dollars ! Wiry, I cud get a buggy docther for that.’ The man evidently thought a doctor who could not afford a buggy to be of but little account.—Chicago Times.