It is true his roughness was very superficial; it was the easiest thing in the world to develop the real kindness of heart which constantly lay beneath it; and it is very instructive to observe how a _very little yielding_ to an infirmity may occasionally obscure one of the most benevolent hearts that ever beat in a human breast, with the repulsive exterior of ungentle manners. Still, patients could not be expected to know this; and therefore too many went away dissatisfied, if not disgusted.
The slightest reaction was, in general, sufficient to bring him to his self-possession. A lady, whom he had seen on former occasions, was one day exceedingly hurt by his manner, and burst into tears. He immediately became as kind and patient as possible, and the lady came away just as pleased as she had been at first offended.
Reaction of a different kind would answer equally well. One day, a gentleman consulted him on a painful affection of his shoulder, which had been of a very excruciating character. Before he had time to enter on his case, Abernethy said, "Well, I know nothing about it." The gentleman sharply retorted: "I do not know how you should; but if you will have patience till I tell you, perhaps you then may." Abernethy at once said, "Sit down;" and heard him out, with the greatest kindness and patience.
I am indebted to Thomas Chevasse, Esq. of Sutton Coldfield, Warwick, for the following letter to a patient in Surrey, who had complained that he did not receive any sympathy from him.
"I am sorry to have said any thing that has offended you. I may have felt annoyed that I could not suggest any plan of treatment more directly curative of your malady, and expressed myself pettishly when you did not seem to understand my meaning; for I am a fellow-sufferer, and had tried what are considered to be appropriate remedies, unavailingly. I assure you that I did not mean to hurt your feelings, and that I earnestly hope the state of your health will gradually improve, and that your local maladies will decline in proportion.
"I am, dear Sir, "Your obedient servant, "JOHN ABERNETHY.
A surgeon was requested to visit a patient in one of the suburbs of the metropolis. When he arrived there, he had to mount two or three dilapidated steps, and to read a number which had been so nearly worn away, that he was enabled to determine whether it was the number he sought only by the more legible condition of its two neighbours. Having applied a very loose, dilapidated knocker, an old woman came to the door.