AUTOBIOGRAPHY 11 



My official chief at Haslar was a very remark- 

 able person, the late Sir John Richardson, an 

 excellent naturalist, and far-famed as an indomit- 

 able Arctic traveller. He was a silent, reserved 

 man, outside the circle of his family and intimates ; 

 and, having a full share of youthful vanity, I was 

 extremely disgusted to find that " Old John," as 

 we irreverent youngsters called him, took not the 

 slightest notice of my worshipful self either the 

 first time I attended him, as it was my duty to do, 

 or for some weeks afterwards. I am afraid to 

 think of the lengths to which my tongue may have 

 run on the subject of the churlishness of the chief, 

 who was, in truth, one of the kindest-hearted and 

 most considerate of men. But one day, as I was 

 crossing the hospital square, Sir John stopped me, 

 and heaped coals of fire on my head by telling me 

 that he had tried to get me one of the resident 

 appointments, much coveted by the assistant- 

 surgeons, but that the Admiralty had put in another 

 man. " However," said he, " I mean to keep you 

 here till I can get you something you will like," 

 and turned upon his heel without waiting for the 

 thanks I stammered out. That explained how 

 it was I had not been packed off to the West 

 Coast of Africa like some of my juniors, and why, 

 eventually, I remained altogether seven months at 

 Haslar. 



After a long interval, during which " Old 

 John " ignored my existence almost as completely 



