to this worthy man. Pity and love of science formed a curious combination in his phrenology. His professional skill, therefore, had reached a height where envy had ceased to criticise or malice to detract. Yet, unknowingly to himself, he possessed other than technical qualities; and these caused him to be sought after by those whose search is considered honourable.

In his career Leadbitter had studied deeply and variously. In his ideas every knowledge tended to enhance the value of his heart.

So intimate is the connection of our moral and physical structure, that to the eye of the accomplished physician few disorders of our frame can be disconnected from some indirect and intellectual cause. As mental emotions form the features of manhood, so is the innermost thought of man betrayed by some external indication.

Those best practised to command expression can ill disguise their feelings from the true physiologist. The smile is forced that dissembles anger, the gravity overcharged that suppresses mirth.

However perfect the acting, there are some, even among mortals, to whose far seeing eye acting can never compete with nature. Such a one was Dr Leadbitter, fat, foolish, as he looked. In him intuitive perception was refined by rare and delicate study. To know the diseases of a singer he would hear her song, of an orator his speech. He would examine the portrait of a statesman, and study his biography, then tell you his organic disorders. Nor was his rare skill unknown or unappreciated. To him would the singer and statesman repair, as a last resource, glad to stand in his anteroom and vie with a pauper for an audience.

Yet Leadbitter, though astute, was simple. He made more by speculation than by his profession.

His kindness of heart and his passion for disagreeable affections gave to the pauper, in his eyes, a higher value than the statesman.

He might have been a baronet, but he had no wife to urge him thereunto. A comfortable dinner was his sole vice, a few good cases his only desire.

He wore the traditional black clothes and white neckcloth, the capacious watch in the capacious fob. He carried the rattan with the gold knob, and, at times, even buckles in his shoes.

A little flower or sprig bedecked his upper button-hole. His walk was a trot, and a smile ever on his lips.

Moreover, nothing could be more commonplace than his ordinary conversation. A few truisms, parliamentary interjections, many technical references. His action was as that of one feeling a pulse, and he was always in a hurry to turn away and leave the room.

"Won't you have a glass of wine, Mr Bromley?" asked the doctor, hospitably.

"Thanks, I am going to dine later."

"Commodeque, Erasistratus dixit, sæpe, interiore parte humorem non requirente, os et fauces requirere."

Dr Leadbitter lost no time in getting into the carriage.

The doctor overcame the gourmet, and, though at dinner, the voice of duty and of friendship prevailed.

"My dear doctor," said Bromley, "Miss Constance has fallen very ill. She fell to the ground at Lady Ilminster's breakfast. She was insensible all the way home. I suppose they have put her to bed, for I drove off at once for you."

"My impression is that Lady Coxe and Miss Constance Coxe are deeply in debt to Madame Mélanie the dressmaker. They are afraid to own it to Sir Jehoshaphat. Count Rabelais has got possession of the secret, and holds it in terrorem over Constance.

"He has conciliated the friendship and advocacy of Lady Coxeperhaps by the same means; and he has extorted from Constance a promise of marriage. Now, what would you advise?

"The whole thing should be told to Sir Jehoshaphat. Yet, I think, he would never forgive Lady Coxe, whatever treatment he might pursue towards his daughter. I have known him from boyhood. His temperament is bilious and nervous. About money matters, though more than liberal, he is obdurate."

"At any rate, it would be better avoided, for the present at least." "Hear, hear!"

"I should think the woman Mélanie might be frightened for having inveigled a girl under age.' "Hear, hear! But suppose Lady Coxe knew of her daughter's debts?"

"But perhaps she does not.

As

Hear, hear!" murmured the doctor, mournfully.

Constance was in a high fever. Bromley found a letter on his table. He opened it. It was but a few lines.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,-The family is that of Sir J. Coxe, Bart., M.P., the banker. Her ladyship owes about £2000; her daughter Constance about £900. The rest of the news I hope to obtain in a day or two. Yours very sincerely,

"K. M."

A paper fluttered forth and fell to the ground. Bromley picked it up. It was folded, flimsy as a bank-note. He opened it. It was headed with the image and superscription of Madame Mélanie. Below were items representing a total of £27, 4s. 8d.

"Hear, hear! Well, you've not lost much time, Mr Bromley," said the doctor, as Bromley entered the room where he was resuming his interrupted meal.

"How have you found Miss Constance?"

"I can say nothing till tomorrow. However, I do not think there is much to fear. Lady Coxe will do all I tell her. I gave her a quietus, by informing her I knew of all her difficulties. It rather relieved her, I think. Experimentum periculosum. It succeeded, however."

finished. "The disease is plainer than the remedy."

"The sum is very large, or I could manage it."

"I should not allow Constance to pay her at least for some time. I am an old man. You are a young one. I should not wonder if there were some few figures in my favour at Coutts's. Sir Jehoshaphat is an old friend of mine -as honourable a man as ever lived. Good digestion, though bilious. I should like to break the force of the blow."

Sir Jehoshaphat Coxe sallied forth the next morning with a heavy heart and a glowing brow.

He marched down Grosvenor Street slowly. At length he reached the house of Madame Mélanie.

With stately steps, and firm determination, he walked up the stairs, and entered the room of the dressmaker. She received him with a curtsy and a smile.

"Woman!" he burst out, "I hear you have profited by the folly of an old woman and the imprudence of a young one. Give me the bills of my wife and daughter that I may pay them."

"They owe me nothing, Monsieur."

The sequel is well known to my readers. Mr Bromley espoused Miss Constance. He has been standing for a county, and the result of the poll is expected by telegraph this evening.

Madame Mélanie having, in a moment of forgetfulness, returned to her old habits, and abstracted a small casket from the house of one of her customers, is expiating her crimes in a spot set aside for such purposes. Count Rabelais has disappeared from the social horizon, and is supposed to be gaining an honest livelihood as a courier.

Madame Carron, under the advice of Dr Leadbitter, laid aside her family pride, and married a very respectable impresario, who turns her talents to advantage, and lays by her earnings for that rainy day to which managers more than ordinary mortals are liable. Lady Coxe will not contract any more debts, though she still nourishes a partiality for port. Florence married on the same day as her sister, and Letitia seems likely to justify the surmise of Count Rabelais, by blessing the hearth of Mr Whiting.

THERE was great excitement at Mudford when it was ascertained beyond a doubt that we were really going to have a New Doctor. Poor old Mole, who was bidding fair to shortly attain the proud position of "Oldest Inhabitant," had at length found it useless to struggle longer with his infirmities, and had advertised his practice for sale to the best bidder. I don't think he would ever have given in; but his old pony, which had carried him well and faithfully for more than twenty years, was gone at last, and he felt that he could never mount another. His hands were so crippled that he could not drive; and, besides, he had no horse and gignor would his practice pay for keeping one; and as for walking, the state of his poor old feet and legs rendered that quite out of the question. So he did the best thing he could do-sold his practice; and, in spite of the teetotallers, I verily believe that, if he had stopped at Mudford and spent the whole of his time, as he had previously spent nine-tenths of it, with his gin-andwater and pipe, in his own special corner at the White Hart, he would be there, as well as ever, at the present moment, and would be able to enjoy many a good growl, and tell many a prosy tale, for years to come yet. But, alas! he did not stop here. He left the old place altogether, and retired to his native village, to be killed with care and fidgets by three old maiden sisters. Poor old Mole! He had come into Mudford I don't know how many years ago for it was before even my time-a smart, buckish, goodlooking young fellow, in top-boots and spotless white neckcloth; telling a good story, singing a good song, fond of the ladies, fond of his glass, fond of sport, and up to any hounds. But, dear me! it was all changed, except the neckcloth and the glass, which endured to the

:

end; and he left the place a poor, testy, prosy, gouty old bachelor, with no one to care for or regard him, except the few who remembered what he had been, or who took the trouble to look for the genuine good qualities which lay beneath the prickly outer rind. But enough of Mole for what have we to do with old friends in this world? When they go away or die, there's an end of 'em. And our business is, to turn our attention to the new-comers, and try what we can get out of them in the way of money, custom, amusement, or whatever else they may be able to give us to our advantage. So farewell to poor old Mole, my dear old brother fogy; and attention for his successor !

As intimated, I am an old fogy. I have no business to attend to, no wife nor family to bother me, and but few means of passing away my time. In the mornings I wade through the papers at the Readingroom, and afterwards discuss their contents with others of my own stamp. I confess that the tradesmen and business people who run in for half an hour to glance at the news, get pretty considerably annoyed at being interrupted while reading, by our loud, and—as far as Rooks is concerned, the most wrong-headed fellow I ever knew— often stupid and illogical arguments: and they not unfrequently dare to tell us, without scruple, that the room is for reading in, and not for talking in. But I, for my part, take no notice of them; for is not my subscription as good as theirs? And is not the passing of my time of far more consequence to me than the getting through theirs is to them, who have a hundred other things to do, and who ought to be attending to their business instead of reading the papers in the mornings? Right or wrong, I do it; and I intend to keep doing

it and if Broad and Brown don't like it, they may leave it—and a good thing for them, too; for I happen to know that Brown's business is falling off considerably; and the new shop at the corner is certain to injure Broad: it is time for them to put their shoulders to the wheel, I can tell them! Well, so I get on until dinner, and then a glass of port and a snooze pass the time until tea. After that, there is my pipe and glass of grog at the White Hart, in the chair opposite to old Mole's-now, alas! no longer sacred to his use, but occupied by any chance customer who may happen to drop in. Disagreeable to me the company is sometimes noisy, uncongenial, disrespectful. Things in this world change for the worse every day. Heigho!

These are my principal employments, with an occasional whistparty of an evening. Bright oases in the desert of my life are these evenings when they do come; but, to my sorrow, they are few and far between. People sit so late and drink so much grog at these parties, that wives don't like 'em. And, besides, there are really not above four people in the place who can play a rubber. As for taking a hand, with such a person as Jones or Johnson for a partner, I vow I would rather never touch a card again! And the worst of it is, the wretches actually think they know the game! I had Jones for a partner once, and lost 17s. 6d. by his confounded stupidity. Catch me. placing myself twice in such a position! If I were absolute monarch of this country, I would make a law that any man who takes the money out of another's pocket by such gross ignorance and stupidity, should be considered guilty of felony -just as the poor, overworked engine-driver, who once in his life makes a blunder by which somebody is killed, is found guilty of manslaughter!

Mudford is not a large nor a gay place; on the contrary, it is a particularly small and dull one so

that, with such a limited round of amusements as is available to me, it is no wonder, and not at all a thing to be ashamed of, that I should have been considerably interested in the question, what the New Doctor would be like. Of course, it was a matter of some importance to me whether he would talk like a reasonable man at the Reading-room in the mornings; and whether he would have the nous to listen to and appreciate my stories, when I am in the humour for telling them in the evenings. The people here, in this little out-of-the-way place, are so confoundedly narrow in their views and ideas, that they take no interest in anything outside their own little, paltry, peddling sphere of action; and I have really not had a listener for a very long time, except a chance commercial traveller now and then-not even poor old Mole, who was always for spinning his own prosy old yarns, that I was sick and tired of years and years ago. He could never see, poor old fellow, how people laughed at him about them! Then I was anxious as to, whether the New Doctor would understand the treatment of my complaint, which I have suffered from for so many years, and which nobody knew anything about except old Mole: for, as for putting myself into the hands of that ignorant fellow Green, who can neither spell correctly nor write grammatically, or of that methodistical quack Higgins, I might as well go and order my coffin at once. Then, of course, it was a matter of importance to me whether he would be able to take a hand at whist like a Christian; and, above all, whether he would give a nice little snug card-party himself now and then; for, as I have already said, parties of that sort had become very scarce, owing to the late hours and the expense. I do not much wonder at it; for Stevens, and Jones, and Johnson, and Briggs, and one or two more I could mention, will never go home till morning, if they are winning; and when they are