blister; it's a very peculiar case, very, indeed," and he shook his head. "Has my patient had any thing on his mind of late?-any strong mental excitement or intense study?"

“He has seemed very much occupied," said Mr. Lindsay. "I have suspected he is engaged on a work of some research, for he has fitted up a study."

"Fitted up a study! he is not in straightened circumstances, then? Excuse my ask ing these questions; but, in our profession, in order to cure the body, we must sometimes probe the mind. He has not been distressed about pecuniary matters of late?"

Oh, by no means! he is very well off; and if he were not, I am his friend; and what ever he needs, he knows that I am glad to supply."

"I...I...sir! it was most lucky I was at hand, it was indeed; if I had not been, you would not have seen him there now, with that pulse and that colour. Sir, I am a man of few words; but, yet I must say, I am a philanthropist; nay, I am proud to say it, an uni

versal philanthropist! On every Monday and Friday, from eleven till one (the very cream of the day, sir), either myself or my assistant see the poor gratis-gratis, sir, are the meanest of the indigent, cupped, bled, and their teeth extracted; few medical men, sir, can say that. Why, sir, I give away leeches as if they were slugs, sir; the largest blisters for the smallest prices; and as for salts and senna, every Saturday Mr. Smith prepares a boiler full! Sir, I left my house at a most inconvenient moment: Mrs. Jobb, having a teaparty, to commemorate the eighteenth anniversary of our wedding-day, sir, I left every thing in the surgery at sixes and sevens. I shall be some pounds out of pocket by this, but, as a man of feeling, I re

"No, sir!" said Mr. Lindsay, "whatever you have lost by your attendance on my poor friend, I will more than refund-he is the oldest friend I have. Give him all the time and care you can spare, and consider me responsible for all expenses.

"The Philosophy of History and the History of Philosophy," groaned Grunter, suddenly sitting up in his bed (a little lightheaded, not from his disease, but from his remedies)—"the noblest subject that can engage the attention of the Christian, the statesman, and the scholar-a subject demanding unflinching investigation and unwearied research-a subject the most important that ....that....”

Here his memory failed him, and he recommenced, "To the Queen, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Lord High Chancellor of England, this work

"

Here Jobb shook his head, and, taking up a phial and a spoon, administered an additional opiate to the excited patient; he then gently whispered to Mr. Lindsay that the room must be darkened, and Mr. Grunter kept perfectly still-"I will send my assistant to sit up with him," he said, " and I will be here to relieve him early in the morning. Fear nothing, dear sir, he is sure to do well-I thoroughly understand his case-I think I

can answer for a perfect cure; but it may be a protracted one; indeed, to be candid, I think it will. Good night, my dear sir; I should recommend a night's rest to yourself. Indeed, as a medical man, I must insist on sending you a composing draught by my assistant. Allow me to feel your pulse- ha, rapid! very rapid! I will see you myself tomorrow morning. Good night, sir!-depend on me!"

So saying, Mr. Jobb accompanied Mr. Lindsay out of the room. Grunter was muttering to himself the words "Philosophy," "History," "The Queen," "The Archbishop of Canterbury," and "The Lord High Chancellor of England." Scarcely was Jobb gone, when the kind Mr. Lindsay stole back in the dark, to watch by the bedside of his old usher, until the arrival of Mr. Jobb's assistant, which did not take place for two hours; he then, insisting on being called if the patient became at all worse, retired to bed, having dutifully swallowed the draught sent by Mr. Jobb, and administered by Mr. Smith.

Never had La Zelie sung more divinely, or looked more witchingly, than in the naïve and feminine part of “ Amina,” on the evening of Grunter's disaster. Mr. Lindsay, always considerate, had requested Mr. Fitzcribb not to alarm, by any allusion to the "accident," the ladies of the party; and therefore, quite unconscious of all that had passed, they sat enjoying to rapture La Zelie's matchless personation of her part. The whole party were to sup at Mr. Lindsay's; but, as soon as the play was over, Julian and De Villeneuve left the box, to go and compliment La Zelie on her success; they professed an intention of only staying a few minutes, and yet the ballet was over before their return. Ellen and Augusta were both anxious; the former feared that something unpleasant had occurred to detain them, the latter saw in their delay, a tribute to La Zelie's charms, and a slight to her own; she therefore felt only anger, and flirted with Sir Peter Riskwell, to avenge herself on Julian.

When at length they did return, they made