Poker Jim, Gentleman and other Tales and Sketches by Frank G. Lydston

It requires some assurance to step out of the conventional in story writing. Especially does it require courage on the part of one whose ideals of what a story should be are far beyond what his productions can ever attain. But the physician, who gets closer to things human than others do, may perhaps be forgiven unorthodox subjects and methods of expression. Surely, also, he will be excused for drawing upon his own field of work for his subject matter.
I have this to say of my material characters—they are all taken from life. Even Tommy the Outcast was the genuine article of hero. He crept into my life through a hole in my cellar window one furiously stormy night. He went out of it via a dose of poison, meant for his hereditary foes—the rats. Talk? No, he did not talk, but I’m sure he used to think—hard and often—and I fancy no one will upbraid me for trying in my feeble way to readviii his mind and act as his proxy in the expression of the things he thought, and in telling the sad story of his life.