his profession, we know that archæology is for ever striving with medicine for the first place in his affections, and his knowledge of herbals and the literature of alchemy is immense. His collection of works dealing with these subjects is well known to the book-sellers, and we sometimes receive a line from him asking us to pay him a visit for the purpose of examining some recently acquired treasure.

Of late his hobby has taken a curious turn. A chance conversation induced him to inquire into the death of Queen Anne. He professed to discover, in the accounts of her demise, certain symptoms which indicated a different disease from that usually assigned to her. So now he must needs hold an inquest upon the death of each one of our sovereigns, from the time of King William the Conqueror. He is exceedingly enthusiastic about it, and is preparing a paper to read before the local antiquarian society. In this he hopes to prove conclusively the impossibility of lampreys having had any share in the death of Henry the First, which was clearly due to appendicitis.

Sometimes when we visited our medical friend we would find another collector there already, deep in bookish or scientific talk. Like the doctor, the biologist was a specialist in books no less than in science, and his hobby comprised a field till recent times untilled. Keen though he was in his pursuit, it was the sea that claimed his

every day of leisure.

An active mind, eager in

the elucidation of the more abstruse problems of physiology, yet his alert bearing, his quickness of movement and springy step, spoke more of the quarterdeck than the laboratory. Denied the sea as a profession, his heart was for ever in ships; and when at length preferment took him inland to one of the ancient seats of learning, the ordered training of his mind turned his hobby towards the history and evolution of all craft that sail upon the waters.

He is a great authority upon all matters pertaining to the rigging of medieval ships. The history of their hulls he leaves to the attention of the important societies of nautical research. But on the evolution of the sky-topsail or fore-topgallant-backstays his word carries much weight. He will travel a hundred miles in a week-end to see an illumination or carving of a ship, and his vacations he spends touring France and Flanders in search of stained glass windows that may throw some light upon his hobby. His collection of seals incised with ancient ships is a fine one, and the proceedings of more than one society are the richer for his researches.

Not long ago we came across another example of the manifold uses to which a private library can be put. A friend had given us a letter of introduction to a collector with whom he desired. us to become acquainted. We were given to

understand that the fellow-spirit was an exceedingly well-read man, and something of a wanderer.

'He's a great traveller,' said our friend with a laugh, there's hardly a country in the world that he has not visited.'

What an interesting man he must be,' we replied, but why do you laugh?'

'Oh, you'll see all right presently,' said he ; 'but go and spend an evening with him; you will certainly be entertained-provided you are sympathetic and content to let him do all the talking.'

At

So a few days later we called at the house of the traveller. He welcomed us in his study, a fine large room yet possessed of that cosiness. imparted by the presence of many books. The walls were entirely covered with bookcases to a height of about seven feet; and these contained, he told us, about three thousand volumes. the end of this long room was a wide bay window, and here was placed a comfortable easy chair with twin oak tables, very strong and low, at either arm. Close at hand were a revolving bookcase and a stand containing five or six japanned cylinders about three feet long and some six inches across, such as are used to contain nautical charts.

'You are fond of travel, are you not?' we remarked, as soon as we were settled. 'Jones told us that there were few countries with which you were unacquainted.'

'That is so,' he replied; 'travel has always been my passion from my youth up, and of all the volumes which you see around you, there are scarcely a hundred that do not treat of some foreign country or voyage.'

'How interesting,' we replied; 'it is a wise old dictum that there is nothing like travel to broaden one's mind. Unless we acquaint ourselves with the opinions held by men of other nations, men whose everyday life differs so widely from our own, who see things consequently from a different standpoint, how can we expect to regard any subject from all its various aspects, which is essential if we are to pronounce an opinion which--'

'Quite so,' he interrupted, eyeing us suspiciously, and obviously fearing from our verbiage that he was about to be beset by a bore. (To tell the truth, we were rather glad of his interruption, for the sentence was beginning to get out of hand.) 'As you say, there's nothing like travel to broaden the mind. Why,' he went on hurriedly, 'before I was eighteen I had been up Aconcagua with Conway.'

'Really,' we said, trying to associate the two with a country and a date. (Of course we knew where Aconcagua was-it was one of the most familiar names in our geography, only for the moment memory was a little refractory. Obviously it was a mountain, because he spoke of having

been up' it. The name had a Spanish ending— of course! now we knew.) A wonderful country, Mexico,' we went on.

'Mexico?' said he; 'yes, I know Mexico too. Been right through it, from Chihuahua to Tehuentepec and Campeachy.' (This was unfortunate, but apparently he didn't notice the mistake, for he went on at once.) 'But as I was saying, I'd been up Aconcagua before I left school.'

'Good gracious,' we replied, amazed at his intrepidity, that must have been an experience.'

'Rather,' said he: 'Haven't you read Conway's book? Published in '02, I think.' He strode across the room and brought back a volume. 'Yes, 1902 capital book; well worth reading. But Mexico,' he continued, without giving us time to display the knowledge that we suddenly recollected as we turned the pages of the book, 'Ah! there's a country for you! How I enjoyed my first visit! Ever been there?'

'Alas! no,' we replied; but one of our fondest dreams has been to visit the ancient cities of the new world.' (We thought that was rather nicely

put.)

Charnay,' he said; 'you know Charnay, then? It was he who took me there first. Early 'eighties, I think.' He pulled out another volume and turned to the title-page, 'Here we are, "The Ancient Cities of the New World," '87. My copy

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