264 
LIFE OF DEAN BUCKLAND . 
[CH. X. 
bad, as it often was in those days of dear wheat, the 
Dean would cut off a piece of the loaf, and send it to 
the guardians that they might themselves judge of its 
quality. The parish doctor was a most kind old gentle¬ 
man, who took almost as great an interest in Frank 
Buckland’s hospital progress as his father himself. On 
most Saturdays, when the young medical student came 
down from town, the big old Rectory kitchen would be 
filled with lame, halt, and blind, sent up by the doctor 
for Frank to report upon and treat in the most approved 
modern way. One of his sisters had to go round with 
him, and take down his directions, which she would see 
carried out during the week—a training, or rather experi¬ 
ence, that has proved of the greatest value to her during 
a lifetime spent in a country parish. 
The cholera was very fatal in Oxford in 1849, and there 
was a great panic in all the surrounding villages, especially 
in those which, like Islip, supplied the Oxford market twice 
a week with dairy produce, ducks, and crayfish. Islip was 
no exception to the usual insanitary condition of country 
parishes, and was worse than many, owing to the constant 
floods from the river Ray, a small tributary of the Cherwell, 
which brought down a considerable amount of detritus 
from the neighbouring villages on Otmoor. At this crisis 
the Dean took his children with him, and visited every 
cottage in his cheery, genial way, assuring the poor folk 
that, if they would only keep their premises clean and 
follow the advice he gave them, they need not be afraid 
of cholera. Again and again he would go round the 
village and see that his advice had been carried out. “ If 
