CHAPTER XVI. "Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it." AN ENGAGEMENT IN BOSTON, 1841-LATE APPEARANCE—ILLNESS—MR, ANECDOTES. BOOKS Mr. HILL considered himself of an impulsive and excitable disposition. Those who knew him best will corroborate his views of his own character. While playing an engagement in the Tremont theatre, Boston, in 1841, he suffered from illness consequent upon anxiety and over-exertion in his endeavors to reach Boston in time to prevent disappointment to the manager and the public. Telegraphs and express cars were not then, as now, available in emergencies. Mr. Hill had missed the usual route. He determined, however, to come over-land from New York to Boston at any risk of health or expense, rather than not fulfil his engagement. The manager considered Hill's arrival in time to play an impossibility, and was accordingly prepared with a change of pieces. A notice had been placed in the lobbies of the theatre, and outside of the ticket-office, announcing the non-arrival of Mr. Hill. Many went away after reading the notice, but enough remained to make a toler able house; and the performance of the "Heir at Law" had commenced. Just as the cue had been given for the entrance of Dr. Pangloss from the left hand of the stage, on bustled Hill from the right hand side, wearing an overcoat covered with mud, boots in like condition, and an umbrella, as it was raining hard. He had that moment entered the theatre by the stage door. The audience and actors were surprised at this in terruption, and a shower of hisses greeted his entrance. Hill walked down to the foot-lights, took off his cap and handkerchief with which it was tied upon his head, and with one of his peculiar looks addressed them. Hello, what's the matter on ye? This is the first time I ever got hissed. What's it all about, ye dar'n critters. ?" By this time the applause was deafening. The audience had discovered the intruder to be the expected Hill. He gave them a humorous description of the cause of his delay, and the incidents of his journey; and told them "he was willing, if they were willing, and the manager was willing, to put on his fixins, and do his best in the performance of the characters in which he had been announced to appear." 66 Play, play," came from all parts of the house. The comedy was stopped, and a light farce substituted to give Mr. Hill time to dress. Without much delay he appeared in one of his favorite parts, and never with greater effect, or more to the satisfaction of the audience. The efforts to reach Boston in time on this occasion proved too much for his system, and illness followed. His attending physician advised a temporary retirement from the stage. The kindness with which the professional ministrations of his physician were bestowed upon Mr. Hill made such an impression on the patient, that a while after convalescence he determined also to become a doctor. Hill, after some enquiry as to the qualifications for obtaining a degree of Doctor of Medicine, resolved to enter the lists for that purpose. Three years' study with a respectable physician, two years' attendance upon the lectures of Harvard College, or some other equally endowed institution-or rather, some one with an equal number of "chairs”—would entitle him to an examination for a degree. He would be expected to pass satisfactory examinations in anatomy, physiology, chemistry, surgery, &c. He set resolutely about this work; entered the office of Dr. Winslow Lewis as a pupil; secured his tickets for the lectures; purchased all the best books required for the different branches; and provided himself with surgical instruments in sufficient quantities to supply an hospital. A merry class was that upon the list of which may be found the name of "George H. Hill.” For a time he was punctual at the lecture rooms, and while thus enthusiastic, he frequently remained to ask questions of the professors in relation to the subjects upon which they had been lecturing. He was at this time stopping at the Tremont House; and instead of the jovial, lively Hill, ready at all times for a merry-making--sitting long at dinner to "set the table in a roar”—he was metamorphosed into a sobervisaged student; his companion, a book; Paxton's or Wilson's Anatomy was his bed-fellow. His mouth was full of muscles, carotid arteries, amputating forceps, and the like. He seldom attended the recitations in the office of his instructor. He always studied the lesson of the day, but did not consider it important to go through his part at recitation. He tugged away at the nomenclature of anatomy, but did not seem to comprehend its practical study, by any effort for this purpose, however great. In his visits to the hospital he was more punctual, and took great delight in recapitulating to his friends the events of the visit; and it was really the superlative alkaloid of comedy to those who understood Hill, to witness his efforts, having for their end to convince his friends that studying medicine in his case was no joke, but a serious reality, the results of which were to furnish him with employment when he had retired from the stage. The visits to the operating theatre of the hospital had a tendency to cool the ardor of the embryo doctor on two or three occasions. He had been present when some of the minor operations were performed, and expressed great anxiety to witness some of the capital operations of surgery, so frequently required by the casualties of life, or the ravages of disease. One of his friends in this relation rallied him on account of his strong sympathies. Hill declared that he was proof against any interference of the "milk of human kindness," and that no amount of suffering and blood could make his "firm nerves to tremble." Without a knowledge of the fact, Hill was caught in the operating theatre on Saturday, when, after some slight affairs by the other surgeons, Dr. Warren was to perform one of those bold mutilations for which he is so famous. There was no ether used in surgery in the student days of "Yankee Hill," and some patients under the effects of knives and saws would make known their sufferings and terror by groans and cries. Hill took his position on the extreme rear of the seats appropriated to the spectators, and bore the preparatory steps of the operation with great composure. The veteran surgeon made a large and free incision, preparatory to a severe and tedious dissection. Hill's sympathies were painfully excited as the work progressed. The man in the operating chair groaned; Hill turned pale, forced a smile, and, looking at his watch, suddenly remembered an engagement in another part of the city. Afterward, in a hospital visit which Hill made in his character of medical student, the dresser had just been engaged in the performance of his duties upon the stump of a leg, which previously had been the subject of amputation. The poor fellow, recognizing Hill, said," Sir, I should like to ask you a question.” Hill, during the dressing, had stood at some distance from the bed of the sufferer. When spoken to he ap proached, endeavoring, at the same time, to conceal his sympathy by an assumption of professional indiffer ence. |