It is to this day a trial to my father to hear his son described as a member of the English bar.
"Rest!" I repeated, when my medical adviser had done.

"My good friend, are you aware that it is term-time?
The courts are sitting.

Look at the briefs waiting for me on that table! Rest means ruin in my case." "And work," added the doctor, quietly, "means death." I started.

He was not trying to frighten me: he was plainly in earnest.
"It is merely a question of time," he went on.

"You have a fine constitution; you are a young man; but you cannot deliberately overwork your brain, and derange your nervous system, much longer.