146 MY LIFE [Chap. 



was one of the very loose young men with whom I was often 

 associated, and I think as regards the filthiness of his lan- 

 guage and of the stories with which he used frequently to 

 regale us he surpassed all. However, he was in other respects 

 a pleasant companion, being quite unconscious that his con- 

 versation was not appreciated, and to him I probably owe 

 my life. One day, I think on a Sunday afternoon, we were 

 walking together up a rocky and boggy valley which ex- 

 tended some miles to the west of the town. As we were 

 strolling alone, picking our way among the rocks and bog, 

 I inadvertently stepped upon one of those small bog eye- 

 holes which abound in such places, and are very dangerous, 

 being often deep enough to swallow up a man, or even a 

 horse. One leg went in suddenly up to the hip, and I 

 fell down, but fortunately with my other leg stretched out 

 upon the surface. I was, however, in such a position that I 

 could not rise, and had I been alone my efforts to extricate 

 myself might easily have drawn my whole body into the 

 bog, as I could feel no bottom to it. But my companion 

 easily pulled me out, and we walked home, and thought 

 little of it. It had, however, been a hard frost for some time, 

 and the mud was ice-cold, and after a few days I developed 

 a bad cough with loss of appetite and weakness. The local 

 doctor, John Henry Heaton by name, was a friend of ours, 

 and he gave me some medicine, but it did no good, and I got 

 worse and worse, with no special pain, but with a disgust of 

 food, and for more than a week I ate nothing but perhaps a 

 small biscuit each day soaked in tea without milk, though 

 always before and since I greatly disliked tea without milk. 

 At length the doctor got frightened, and told my brother 

 that he could do nothing for me, and that he could not be 

 answerable for my life. He added that he knew but one 

 man who could save me, a former teacher of his, Dr. Ramage, 

 who was the only man who could cure serious lung disease, 

 though he was considered a quack by his fellow practitioners. 

 As I got no better, a few days later we started for London, 

 I think sleeping at Birmingham on the way. On going to 

 Dr. Ramage, who tested my lungs, etc., he told my brother 



