ence. He probed up from the very bottom of his desk all the things that he had ever written-poems, fancy sketches, visions, romances, tales, and the heap was increased daily with all kinds of aimless sonnets, stanzas, canzonets. All these he read to Olimpia hour after hour without growing tired; but then he had never had such an exemplary listener. She neither embroidered nor knitted; she did not look out of the window, or feed a bird, or play with a little pet dog or a favourite cat, neither did she twist a piece of paper or anything of that kind round her finger; she did not forcibly convert a yawn into a low affected cough-in short, she sat hour after hour with her eyes bent unchangeably upon her lover's face, without moving or altering her position, and her gaze grew more ardent and more ardent still. And it was only when at last Nathanael rose and kissed her lips or her hand that she said, "Ach! ach!" and then "Good night, dear!" Arrived at his own room, Nathanael would break out with "Oh! what a brilliant-what a profound mind! Only you-you alone understand me. And his heart trembled with rapture when he reflected upon the wondrous harmony which daily revealed itself between his own and his Olimpia's character; for he fancied that she had expressed in respect to his works and his poetic genius the identical sentiments which he himself cherished deep down in his own heart in respect to the same, and even as if it was his own heart's voice speaking to him. And it must indeed have been so; for Olimpia never uttered any other words than those already mentioned. And when Nathanael himself in his clear and sober moments, as, for instance, directly after waking in a morning, thought about her utter passivity and taciturnity, he only said, "What are words-but words? The glance of her heavenly eyes says more than any tongue on earth. And how can, anyway, a child of heaven accustom herself to the narrow circle which the exigencies of a wretched mundane life demand?

Professor Spalanzani appeared to be greatly pleased at the intimacy that had sprung up between his daughter Olimpia and Nathanael, and showed the young man many unmistakable proofs of his good feeling towards him; and when Nathanael ventured at length to hint very delicately at an alliance with Olimpia, the Professor smiled all over his face at once, and said he should allow his daughter to make a perfectly free choice. Encouraged by these words, and with the fire of desire burning in his heart, Nathanael resolved the very next day to implore Olimpia to tell him frankly, in plain words, what he had long read in her sweet, loving glances, that she would be his for ever. He looked for the ring which his mother had given him at parting; he would present it to Olimpia as a symbol of his devotion, and of the happy life he was to lead with her from that time onwards. Whilst looking for it, he came across his letters from Clara and Lothair; he threw them carelessly aside, found the ring, put it in his pocket, and ran across to Olimpia. Whilst still on the stairs, in the entrancepassage, he heard an extraordinary hubbub; the noise seemed to

proceed from Spalanzani's study. There was a stamping-a rattling-pushing-knocking against the door, with curses and oaths intermingled. "Leave hold-leave hold-you monster-you rascal-staked your life and honour upon it? Ha ha! ha ha! That was not our wager. I, I made the eyes-I the clockwork.· ́ Go to the devil with your clockwork-you damned dog of a watchmaker-be off-Satan-stop-you paltry turner-you infernal beast-stop-begone-let me go.' The voices which were thus making all this racket and rumpus were those of Spalanzani and the fearsome Coppelius. Nathanael rushed in, impelled by some nameless dread. The Professor was grasping a female figure by the shoulders, the Italian Coppola held her by the feet; and they were pulling and dragging each other backwards and forwards, fighting furiously to get possession of her. Nathanael recoiled with horror on recognising that the figure was Olimpia. Boiling with rage, he was about to tear his beloved from the grasp of the madmen, when Coppola, by an extraordinary exertion of strength, twisted the figure out of the Professor's hands, and gave him such a terrible blow with her, that he reeled backwards and fell over the table, all amongst the vials and retorts, the bottles and glass-cylinders which covered it; all these things were smashed into a thousand pieces. But Coppola threw the figure across his shoulder, and, laughing shrilly and horribly, ran hastily down the stairs, the figure's ugly feet hanging down, and banging and rattling like wood against the steps. Nathanael was stupefied; he had seen only too distinctly that in Olimpia's pallid, waxen face there were no eyes, merely black holes in their stead; she was an inanimate puppet. Spalanzani was rolling on the floor; the pieces of glass had cut his head, and breast, and arm; the blood was escaping from him in streams. But he gathered his strength together by an effort. After bim-after him! What do you stand staring there for? Coppelius-Coppelius-he's stolen my best automaton -at which I've worked for twenty years-staked my life upon itthe clockwork-speech-movement-mine your eyes-stolen your eyes-damn him-curse him-after him-fetch me back Olimpiathere are the eyes!" And now Nathanael saw a pair of bloodless eyes lying on the floor, staring at him; Spalanzani seized them with his uninjured hand, and threw them at him, so that they hit his breast. Then madness dug her burning talons into him, and swept down into his heart, rending his mind and thoughts into shreds. 66 Aha! Aha! Aha! Fire-wheel-fire-wheel! Spin round, fire-wheel! merrily, merrily! Aha! wooden doll! spin round, pretty wooden doll!" and he threw himself upon the Professor, clutching him fast by the throat. He would certainly have strangled him, had not several people, attracted by the noise, rushed in and torn away the madman; and so they saved the Professor, whose wounds were immediately dressed. Siegmund, with all his strength, was not able to subdue the frantic lunatic, who continued to scream in a dreadful way, Spin round, wooden doll!" and to strike out right and left with his doubled fists. At

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length the united strength of several succeeded in overpowering him, by throwing him on the floor and binding him. His cries passed into a brutish bellow that was awful to hear; and thus raging with the harrowing violence of madness, he was taken away to the madhouse.

(From "Weird Stories," by permission of Mr. J. C. Nimmo.)

THE EARLY STRUGGLES OF A PHYSICIAN.

SAMUEL WARREN.

[Mr. Warren was originally intended for the medical profession, and for some years carried on a tolerable practice. Circumstances, however, caused him to relinquish it for the Bar; and at the time of his death he was a Master in Chancery and Recorder for Hull. Those works by which his name will ever be associated with the standard literature of our century would probably never have seen the light had it not been for the encouragement afforded to him by the late Mr. Blackwood, who discerned the intrinsic merits of his essay on the early struggles of a physician's career, when three other editors had rejected it. Subsequent chapters added to this essay culminated in their collection under the title of "The Diary of a Late Physician. His other best known works are "Ten Thousand a Year," and "Now and Then." Born 1807. Died 1877.]

FROM what cause, or combination of causes, I know not, but I seemed marked out for failure in my profession. Though my name shone on my door, and the respectable neighbourhood could not but have noticed the regularity and decorum of my habits and manners, yet none ever thought of calling me in! Had I been able to exhibit a line of carriages at my door, or open my house for the reception of company, or dash about town in an elegant equipage, or be seen at the opera and theatres-had I been able to do this, the case might have been different. In candour I must acknowledge that another probable cause of my ill success was a somewhat insignificant person and unprepossessing countenance. I could not wear such an eternal smirk of conceited complacency, or keep my head perpetually bowing, mandarin-like, as many of my professional brothers. Still there were thousands to whom these deficiencies proved no serious obstacles. The great misfortune in my case was, undoubtedly, the want of introductions. There was a man of considerable rank and great wealth, who was a sort of fiftieth cousin of mine, resided in one of the fashionable squares not far from me, and on whom I had called to claim kindred and solicit his patronage; but after having sent up my name and address, I was suffered to wait so long in an ante-room, that, what with this and the noise of servants bustling past with insolent familiarity, I quite forgot the relationship, and left the house, wondering what had brought me there. I never felt inclined to go near it again; so there was an end of all prospects of introduction from that quarter. I was left, therefore, to rely exclusively on my own efforts, and trust to chance for patients. It is true that, in the time I have mentioned, I was twice called in at

an instant's warning; but, in both cases, the objects of my visits had expired before my arrival, probably before a messenger could be despatched for me; and the manner in which my fees were proffered convinced me that I should be cursed for a mercenary wretch if I accepted them. I was therefore induced, in each case, to decline the guinea, though it would have purchased me a week's happiness! I was also, on several occasions, called in to visit the inferior members of families in the neighbourhood-servants, housekeepers, porters, &c.; and of all the trying, the mortifying occurrences in the life of a young physician, such occasions as these are the most irritating. You go to the house-a large one probably-and are instructed not to knock at the front door, but to go down by the area to your patient!

As was generally the case, I found Emily busily engaged in painting little fire-screens, and other ornamental toys, which, when completed, I was in the habit of carrying to a kind of private bazaar in Oxford Street, where I was not known, and where, with an aching heart, I disposed of the delicate and beautiful productions of my poor wife, for a trifle hardly worth taking home. Could any man, pretending to the slightest feeling, contemplate his young wife, far advanced in a critical state, and requiring air, exercise, and cheerful company, toiling, in the manner I have related, from morning to night, and for a miserably inadequate remuneration ? She submitted, however, to our misfortunes with infinitely more firmness and equanimity than I could pretend to; and her uniform cheerfulness of demeanour, together with the passionate fervour of her fondness for me, contributed to fling a few rays of trembling and evanescent lustre over the gloomy prospects of the future. Still, however, the dreadful question incessantly presented itself— What, in heaven's name, is to become of us? I cannot say that we were at this time in absolute, literal want; though our parsimonious fare hardly deserved the name of food, especially such as my wife's delicate situation required. It was the hopelessness of all prospective resources that kept us in perpetual thraldom. With infinite effort we might contrive to hold on to a given period—say, till the next half-yearly demand of old L- ; and then we must sink altogether, unless a miracle intervened to save us. Had I been alone in the world I might have braved the worst, have turned my hand to a thousand things, have accommodated myself to almost any circumstances, and borne the extremest privations with fortitude. But my darling-my meek, smiling, gentle Emily! -my heart bled for her.

Not to leave any stone unturned, seeing an advertisement addressed, "To medical men," I applied for the situation of assistant to a general practitioner, though I had but little skill in the practical part of compounding medicines. I applied personally to the advertiser, a fat, red-faced, vulgar fellow, who had contrived to gain a very large practice, by what means God only knows. His terms were-and these named in the most offensive contemptu

ousness of manner-£80 a-year, board and lodge out, and give all my time in the day to my employer! Absurd as was the idea of acceding to terms like these, I thought I might still consider them. I pressed hard for £100 a-year, and told him I was married"Married!" said he, with a loud laugh. "No, no, sir, you are not the man for my money; so I wish you good morning."

Thus was I baffled in every attempt to obtain a permanent source of support from my profession. It brought me about £40 per annum. I gained, by occasional contributions to magazines, an average sum annually of about £25. My wife earned about that sum by her pencil. And these were all the funds I had to meet thé enormous interest due half-yearly to old L, to discharge my reat, and the various other expenses of housekeeping, &c. Might I not well despair? I did; and God's goodness only preserved me from the frightful calamity which has suddenly terminated the earthly miseries of thousands in similar circumstances.

And is it possible, I often thought, with all the tormenting credulousness of a man half stupefied with his misfortunes-is it possible, that, in the very heart of this metropolis of splendour, wealth, and extravagance, a gentleman and a scholar, who has laboured long in the honourable toil of acquiring professional knowledge, cannot contrive to scrape together even a competent subsistence? and that, too, while ignorance and infamy are wallowing in wealth-while charlatanry and quackery of all kinds are bloated with success! Full of such thoughts as these, how often have I slunk stealthily along the streets of London, on cold and dreary winter evenings, almost fainting with long abstinence, yet reluctant to return home and incur the expense of an ordinary family dinner, while my wife's situation required the most rigorous economy to enable us to meet, even in a poor and small way, the exigencies of her approaching accouchement ! How often--by hundreds of times-have I envied the coarse and filthy fare of the minor eating-houses, and been content to interrupt a twelve hours' fast with a bun or biscuit and a draught of water or turbid tablebeer, under the wretched pretence of being in too great a hurry to go home to dinner! I have often gazed with envy-once, I recollect, in particular-on dogs eating their huge daily slice of boiled horse's flesh, and envied their contented and satiated looks! With what anguish of heart have I seen carriages setting down company at the door of a house, illuminated by the glare of a hundred tapers, where were ladies dressed in the extreme of fashion, whose cast-off clothes would have enabled me to acquire a tolerably respectable livelihood! O, ye sons and daughters of luxury and extravagance! how many thousands of needy and deserving families would rejoice to eat of the crumbs which fall from your tables, and they may not!

I have stood many a time at my parlour window, and envied the kitchen fare of the servants of my wealthy opposite neighbour; while I protest I have been ashamed to look our own servant in the face, as she, day after day, served up for two what was little more