BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 163
Boswell of Auchinleck in these lines-part of an epitaph composed by him on
Mr. Wood:-
“ But cold the heart that feels M genial glow,
Pondering on him whose ashes sleep below :
Whose vivid mind, with grasping power, could reach
Truths that the plodding schools can never teach.
Who scorned, in honesty, the spacious wiles
Of dull importance, or of fawning smiles :
Who scouted feelings frittered and refined,
But had an ample heart for all mankind.”
The following anecdote is a proof of Mr. Wood‘s popularity with the lower
classes. During a riot in Edinburgh, some of the mob, mistaking him at
night (owing to a great resemblance in figure) for Sir James Stirling, then
the Lord Provost of the City, and at that time far from being a favourite,
seized Mr. Wood on the North Bridge, and were going to throw him over the
parapet, when he cried out, “I’m lang Sandy ?Vood-tak‘ me to a lamp and
ye’ll see.” Instead of executing their vengeance, he was cordially cheered and
protected from farther outrage.
Sir James and Mr. Wood, although thus in such different esteem with
the lower class of the inhabitants of Edinburgh, were intimate friends. It is
told of them, that on one occasion the Provost-with his cocked hat, and long
spare figure-meeting the Doctor in the High Street, he jocularly put L guinea
into his hand, and giving a piteous account of his sufferings from indigestion,
and the state of his stomach, asked his advice. The Doctor-with a figure
almost equally spare, and the same head-dress-retreated from the Provost,
who continued to follow him, reproaching him for pocketing the money without
giving him any opinion on his case, At last, after this scene had lasted for
some considerable space, Mr. Wood replied to Sir James’s remonstra,nces :-
“You’re quite wrong, Sir James; I have been giving you the best possible
advice all this while. If you’ll take hold of my coat-tail, and only follow me
for a week as you’ve been doing for the last ten minutes, you’ll have no more
trouble with your stomach.”
Although very confident in his own practice, and very decided, Mr. ?Vood
never failed to call in the aid of his professional brethren when there appeared
to be real danger. The celebrated Dr. Cullen and he were frequently in attendance
together, and on the most friendly and intimate footing. Upon one
occasion they were in the sick-room of a young nobleman of high promise who
was afflicted with a severe fever-the Doctor on one side of the bed, in his
usual formal and important manner, counting the patient’s pulse, with his large
stop-watch in his hand--Mr. Wood on the other, and the parents anxiously
waiting the result. The Doctor abruptly broke the silence-“ We are at the
crisis ; in order to save him, these pills must be taken instantly,” producing some
from his waistcoat pocket. Mr. Wood, who had a real affection for the young
Lord, shook his head significantly, and said with a smile, “ 0 Doctor, Doctor,
nature has already done her work, and he is saved. As to your pills-you
.