"Oh, that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to steal away their brains."— Shakespeare.'

Chapter I.

While a few words in the way of advice from a metropolitan physician, who adds M.D. to his name, and rides in his carriage, are sometimes considered worth almost as many guineas, there is another class of medical practitioners who, with humbler aims and more circumscribed prospects, must often perform much real drudgery for a few shillings. The individuals who compose this class derive their origin, for the most part, from the middle and lower ranks of society; and after having obtained, with considerable difficulty, a medical education, and qualified themselves to practise as surgeons, they establish themselves in our provincial towns, villages, and obscure country districts, often spending laborious lives in visiting the sick-beds, and endeavouring to alleviate the sufferings of a poor and scattered population, who, from the very limited nature of their incomes, can seldom afford to give them more than the most scanty remuneration. "What they lose in profit, however, they may, perhaps, gain in honour and professional importance; for whatever degree their respective colleges may have conferred on them, in the estimation of their patients and the public, they are all doctors, without distinction; and of many of them, at least, it may still be said,—

Their virtues walk their narrow round,
Nor make a pause nor leave a void;
And sure the Eternal Master finds
The single talent well employ'd.

But though much of their care, and by far the greater part of their time, must be unavoidably devoted to the poor, the patronage of the rich must always be an object of ambition, and, in some instances, an auxiliary without which they could scarcely subsist; for it may be easily supposed, that where a great quantity of labour must be performed below the average rate of rewards, unless the labourer should contrive to get occasionally into the service of those who may be able to pay him better, he could scarcely find it possible to keep himself and his implements in repair. But as the merchants, manufacturers, farmers, &c, who, when not eclipsed by greater lights, may be regarded as the aristocracy of such places, are always conscious of their own importance, and, in many instances, jealous of conferring their favours, this patronage can only be obtained by very delicate management. Should there chance to be a rival of the same profession in the place, then matters are rendered still worse: all the difficulties are doubled, and it requires more than an ordinary degree of tact and perseverance to overcome them. For these reasons, an introduction to the family of a wealthy citizen, or even of an ordinary farmer, is frequently regarded as a very important obligation by the party introduced; and in a state of society where men who act upon the principles of disinterested benevolence, are not over and above rife, it may be expected that cases will occur in which calculating individuals may not be altogether averse from taking advantage of the feelings of those they have obliged. This is, no doubt, telling truths which are as obvious as can well be imagined, and with which the world might have been familiar long ago; but then, as they are truths respecting a particular class, of which the world, when in health, seldom takes time to think, for that very reason their repetition may be pardonable.

Roland Bridges had been early smit with a love of the medical profession: from a boy it was the object of his ambition to be a surgeon, or a doctor, as he phrased it; his parents, who were only small farmers, or rather palachlers, did not thwart his inclination; and after having gone through that preparatory course of instruction which was to fit him for his intended station, he settled in the town of Auldenburgh. Here he engaged for "bed and board," with the wife of a respectable shopkeeper, and took a small room fronting the street, over the door of which he got the word Laboratory painted in blazing characters; and then in the window of the said room, he exhibited, to all and sundry, his "well crammed magazines of health," in the form of a goodly array of bottles —square, globular, and round—containing liquids of various colours, from the transparent, the pale blue, and the light crimson, to the deep purple, and the almost inky black.

About three months previous to the time at which Roland Bridges began his Esculapian labours, another individual, whose name was Arthur M'Quiddit, had come to reside in Auldenburgh. In stature he was about the middle size, square made, and well proportioned; his forehead was erect, but rather low; his hair dark, thick, and curled; his eyes were of the same colour, not remarkably large, but penetrating, and deep set in his head. His complexion had in it, perhaps, a little of that dusky hue which, for want of a better name, has been called iron colowred; but this was either never noticed or immediately forgotten in contemplating the general expression of his countenance, which was strongly marked, and had in it a something between good-nature and sarcasm — a sort of mixture which, according to the mood of the beholder, with a little assistance from imagination, might have been easily resolved into either of these qualities. In addition to this hasty sketch of his personal appearance it must be stated that, after having served the usual time in a writer's office, and passed some eight or ten years -with various masters in a number of different places, following the same profession, he had now commenced Business on his own account. For such an undertaking he might have been considered perfectly qualified, both by education and experience, his age being somewhere between twenty-eight and thirty: and with a prepossessing address, pleasing manners, and a sort of satirical humour, which he knew well when to curb, and when to let loose; backed by some pretensions to fortune, which he was supposed to possess, he had found his way into a number of respectable families, where he was received upon all occasions as an agreeable guest. With the better sort of people in general he maintained a favourable footing: business, too, seemed to be increasing, and thus his prospects were every way encouraging.

Roland Bridges, on the other hand, who was six or eight years younger, was but indifferently qualified for elbowing his way into the better circles. Neither his conversational powers nor his wit were greatly inferior to those of Mr. M'Quiddit, but he wanted that art, so to speak, which is often necessary to procure a field for the display of these talents. He possessed a stock of varied and useful information, and could speak with propriety on most subjects when in a company with which he was perfectly acquainted, and at his ease; but among strangers he was bashful, diffident, and sometimes even awkward in his attempts at conversation; and instead of thrusting himself into an opening wherever it appeared, and attracting and dazzling the attention of his listeners, in most instances he would have required a guide to lead him forward. On numberless occasions he fancied that he could say fine things, and really had these things at his tongue's end, but somehow, when an opportunity for saying them occurred, he could rarely utter a word; and as conversation can seldom be long kept to one subject, it had in general changed before he could settle on the manner in which he should introduce himself. "When he came to Auldenburgh he had, moreover, an established rival in the person of Dr. Drugster, who had long been in quiet possession of the practice of the place, and was backed by a numerous circle of friends and acquaintances. With these disadvantages his assistance was seldom sought except by the poorest of the inhabitants; the fees which he could take from them were always of the most moderate description; and in some cases, so far from receiving anything, he was obliged to part with a shilling or a half crown, which he could ill spare, to save his patients from death by starvation. His prospects were thus the very reverse of flattering, and after having passed something more than two months without any perceptible improvement, as he was returning from visiting a patient in the country he met Mr. M'Quiddit, who had sauntered out to take a walk, and who, it seemed, knew him, though neither of them had been formally introduced to the other.

"Happy to see you, Dr. Bridges," said he, advancing to shake hands with him; "and as we have both come to this place with pursuits and prospects almost the same I think we should be better acquainted."

There was such an appearance of frank hilarity in the manner in which these few words were spoken that Dr. Bridges felt at once inclined to return the salutation in the same spirit in which it had been made. "I am happy," he said, "at any occurrence which promises to make me acquainted with you. But," he added, with a faint smile, "I suspect no one except an experienced lawyer would attempt to establish the similarity, not to mention the sameness, of our pursuits."

"As to that," rejoined the other, "it does not require so much experience as you would imagine. For instance, you came here to live upon the diseases of men's bodies, and to make my bread by preying upon the crotchets and caprices of their minds; you are to give personal attendance and advice wherever there is real distress, I am to be attended in all cases of bad humour or imaginary wrong; you are to use your utmost endeavours to promote head-breaking, if you are your own friend, and then spread plasters for the heads which have been broken, and sell physic and cordials wherever you can find a market—no offence, for I will make my own calling as black as yours presently; and / am to foment mischief to the extent of my ability, setting people by the ears upon all occasions, that they may break each other's characters without mercy; and then I am to sell threatening letters, warrants, and other legal papers to whosoever will buy them. And now, I think, my friend will acknowledge that our pursuits, though not exactly the same, are pretty nearly allied."

Dr. Bridges could not help laughing heartily at the ludicrous comparison which had been thus placed before him. "I must confess," he said, "that you have succeeded much better than I had anticipated; and I wish to Heaven you could now establish as good a parallel between our prospects as you have done between our pursuits—yours, they say, are nattering; but what with the want of employment, and what with employment without reward, I verily believe the people of this place -intend to transform me into a skeleton for the benefit of science; and for any reasonable argument which I could oppose to such a proceeding they may even complete the work as soon as they please, and then hang me up in their old steeple or elsewhere for the edification of the public."

"We must try and baulk them of their intentions though,'' said the other: "and I will tell you how we shall do it—it shall be in this wise. Wherever I can find an individual dying of a broken head, or a broken heart, not forgetting broken legs and arms, and all manner of diseases, I will either send him to you, or direct him to send for you; and swear, at the same time, that you could cure him, though he were dead, which would be no great falsehood after all—seeing that herrings, as well as other kinds of living creatures, are mostly cured after that event has taken place. And that you may not be at all burdened with gratitude, for which some people are sad anglers, wherever you find a patient who wishes to have his will made, or an individual who has got the vapours, and is dissatisfied with his friend or his enemy, or his master or his servant, or his brother or his sister, or the whole world together, then send him to me, and declare, that if the devil himself had wronged him, I would find means to do him, the devil, and the world, the most perfect justice."

This second sally produced another laugh, in which Mr. M'Quiddit was not slow to join; more conversation followed, and when the two parted, it seemed as if they had been friends for more years than they had really been acquainted hours.

Shortly after this conversation, as Dr. Bridges was one evening busily engaged in his little Laboratory, or rather pretending to be busy, compounding and preparing medicines, for which he had no immediate demand, Mr. M'Quiddit came in rather abruptly—"What!" he said, as he entered, "still busy with extracts, and essences, and tinctures, and other preparations, which healthy people seldom think of purchasing."

"In good sooth, I am busy with the things of which you speak, because I have nothing else to do," said the pharma-copolist.

"Well and if a friend should procure you some other work, what in the name of wonder could you do?" again inquired the lawyer.

"Why, as to that, I cannot exactly say," rejoined the other, catching at the same time the tone of good-natured banter in which he had been addressed; "but something I certainly could do. For instance, I could poison people as fast as the most dignified M.D. of the whole profession; I could keep accounts, too, and make demands upon their purses like a very lawyer; I could let blood, from a thimbleful to the last drop which could be with safety extracted; I could plaster a wound, after the most approved fashion, or if the said wound were sufficiently large, I could play the tailor, and stitch it up at once; and if you, or any friend, would be so kind as to employ yourself a little in the way of bone breaking, I hereby promise to mend the whole in the most scientific manner—that is to say, one half of my patients shall be lameters for life, and the other half shall have their legs as strong and as crooked as any lover could wish the legs of a rival to be; and lastly------"

"Nay, hold there; what you have already said is enough for me," said the lawyer. "And now, when I can get in a word, I may tell you for your consolation, that my landlady's youngest son has been pleased to consider your case so far, as to allow a cart-wheel to pass over his arm, by which the bone has been broken between the wrist and the elbow, so that you may now have an opportunity of mending it, and making it as crooked as you please. Dr. Drugster would have been called, but I peppered them with some phrases about recent discoveries, improved methods, and so forth. And now, Master Hippocrates, will you be pleased to select such of your tools as may be needful, and make haste, for I have run all the road to tell you."

Dr. Bridges, as may be easily supposed, lost no time in making the necessary preparation, and hastening to the boy's relief. The fracture was a simple one, the bone was soon set, bandages, etc., applied, and the first part of the business finished : he, however, continued to give his attendance till the cure which he had begun was completed, and then the mother was pleased to say, that she could not tell which of her boy's arms had been broken.

It was Christmas, the annual round of festivities had begun, and when Mrs. M'lntosh's turn came, out of gratitude, she could do no less than invite the doctor, who had been so successful in rescuing her boy from deformity, to be a partaker in the hospitality of the season.

Mrs. M'Intosh was the widow of a respectable cloth merchant, with two sons and two daughters, one of each grown up; the son had continued to keep the shop after his father's death, and though not remarkably rich, they were well connected, and well received in the best circles of the place. Dr. Bridges was, therefore, fain to attend on the appointed evening, in the expectation that his doing so might be the means of introducing him to better and more extensive practice than he had hitherto enjoyed. When he arrived, among a number of other guests, he found Mr. Forester and his daughter; the former a rich widower, who had retired from business to live upon his money, and the latter a delicate but interesting girl, in her twentieth, or one-and-twentieth year. From the circumstance of Miss Forester having been born and bred among them, and living rather retired, she had not hitherto attracted much notice. She was spoken of rather as an affectionate and dutiful daughter than as a beauty ; and while all admitted that her conduct in every respect was most exemplary, very few talked of her charms. But notwithstanding this silence, there was a peculiar charm in her quiet unassuming manners—a charm which, in some eyes, might have compensated for many personal defects, of which, however, she had none. She did not appear to consider herself as deserving of attention, she gave herself no airs to procure it, and she never seemed to think herself in the shade when it was withheld. Though her face and figure were not of that sort which draw immediate admiration, yet when once observed, she lost little by being compared with others; her charms, such as they were, had rather a tendency to grow upon the heart of the beholder; and as she was the last of her father's family, and likely to inherit whatever he might leave behind him, this consideration was by far too important to be wholly overlooked. The lining of a purst has often more attractions than the colouring of a cheek, or the brilliancy of an eye, and thus she had become the subject of interested, if not interesting, speculation, with those fathers and mothers who were anxious to see their sons well married; but of these sons themselves, no one as yet had proposed for her hand, or even paid her any marked attentions.

Few persons who will give themselves the trouble of casting a retrospective glance over their own experience can be ignorant of a certain tendency in the youthful mind to give a sort of arbitrary preference to some particular individual, even in the largest company. That individual may be a perfect stranger, and the preference may be founded upon the most trifling circumstance—the colour of the hair, the eye, or the complexion—the form of the mouth, the forehead, or any other feature which chances to strike the fancy of the observer; or it may owe its origin to a well-worn ornament, or a fanciful piece of dress, or, in short, to anything; but when once it has taken possession of the heart, there it remains, till something more interesting is seen, or till some reason appears for withdrawing it: and thus it was with Roland Bridges. After he had surveyed the company at leisure, measuring their most interesting points with his eye, and scanning their various tempers and characters in his own mind, he at last settled upon Miss Forester, as one who deserved a decided preference. The only other individual present who, in his estimation, would at all bear to be compared with her, was Miss M'Intosh, who appeared to be some years older, and who, by most judges, would have perhaps been considered the better looking of the two. There was, he readily acknowledged, an energetic expression about her countenance, which contrasted finely with her delicate complexion. He was also forced to confess, that she had exquisitely formed lips, dark commanding eyes, and a fine expanse of forehead, on which, when the light fell upon it from a certain direction, two or three lines were just perceptible. These, as may be readily supposed, were not the work of time: they father seemed to indicate strong thinking faculties, in connection with strong passions; the last of which, however, she never exhibited in such a way as to detract from her fame. With these attributes she was, at least, a fair specimen of female beauty. But though Holand Bridges would have acknowledged frankly that she was so, he still persisted in giving the preference to Miss Forester, who—while the elder females were busy in discussing scandal, and other serious subjects, and the younger ones were dealing around their smiles and small talk, and setting all the sail they could to catch the gale of admiration—was for the most part silent, and seldom raised her eyes from the table. He soon began to entertain a very high opinion of her modesty and delicacy of feeling; and after looking round the company to try if he could discover any counterpart to these, when his eye returned to its former object, he was not displeased to find that she had been stealing a glance at himself.

When the repast to which they had been invited was over, and conversation had walked its round, Mr. M'Quiddit, reckoning, no doubt, on being supported by the younger part of the company, proposed that they should have a dance. This proposal was not at all in accordance with the etiquette of the higher circles, and for this reason, perhaps, Mrs. M'Intosh rather seemed to demur as to the propriety of adopting it; but she had herself been bred in the country where unfashionable revels of this kind are quite common; and as she recollected having been as happy in her younger days dancing to a blind fiddler in her father's kitchen, as ever she had been at a regularly got up ball, she offered no serious opposition. The motion; moreover, was warmly seconded by Miss M'Intosh, while her oldest brother, who was an amateur violin player, offered his services upon the occasion, and in the end the table was removed, chairs were lifted back, and a space cleared for a reel. Dr. Bridges offered his hand to Miss Forester, Miss M'Intosh accepted that of Mr. M'Quiddit, and when all were accommodated, to it they went with at least a whole world of good-will.

Miss Forester did not dance with any very extraordinary degree of spirit—that was not her forte. The animating exercise, however, seemed to hring the simple elegance of her form more prominently into view, while it certainly added a fresher colour to her cheek. The excitement of the music, too, to which she was far from being insensible, gave a brighter sparkle to her eye; and when she sat down, Dr. Bridges felt inclined to be better pleased with her than ever. He even congratulated himself on that penetration which had enabled him to discover and to appreciate,, almost at first sight, the charms of one who was so little anxious to exhibit them, and who was, at the same time, so deserving of notice. In the course of the evening, he had an opportunity of dancing with her several times : indeed, he danced with no other; and the attention which he thus bestowed exclusively upon her, seemed to have the effect of bringing her all at once into general notice. Of six or eight young men who were present, each and all appeared to have become rivals for her favour; every one seemed anxious to have her for a partner, and among them she was scarcely allowed to rest for a single minute. In this manner an hour or two passed rapidly away; and when the time came at which her father thought proper to go home, numerous were the gallants, and not the most backward was Dr. Bridges, who offered to escort her; but after assuring them with a naivete which was peculiarly her own, that she apprehended nothing, she took the arm of her parent, and left them all alike disappointed.

"Indeed, indeed," said Miss Forester, rather disconcerted by the question; "indeed, I can have no cause for disliking him at all—only he is so forward, and it was him who made me dance so much. But I do not want a doctor at all, really I do not; or if you call one, call Dr. Drugster."

"Foolish girl!" said Mr. Forester, in a half angry tone; to make a long story short, I tell you Dr. Drugster has gone on a visit to his friends in the country, and we may all be dead before he comes back. But from your unaccountable apprehensions, one would almost be led to suppose that you believed this same Dr. Bridges was some great leviathan, who swallowed his patients, one and all, without distinction of age or sex, and that you were afraid of being devoured along with the rest. If you really dislike him, however," he added, lowering his voice to a tone of affection, "you have only to tell him the symptoms of your disorder, and then go to your own room."

Miss Forester was not perhaps greatly offended with her father's pertinacity, in this respect, after all. She felt, however—she scarce knew what—a sort of flutter and apprehension at the idea of her professional visitor, which, though not exactly so distressing as if he had been a leviathan coming to swallow her up, was nevertheless enough to disconcert her. How should she receive him, was with her a question of considerable importance, and one which she had decided half-a-dozen different ways in half as many minutes ; but as she could not at the moment determine which was the best, the object of her anxiety and apprehension arrived before she could finally fix upon any particular plan, and she received him with a cold, distant, and somewhat embarrassed civility, which she either mistook for politeness, or adopted because she could not at the time substitute any thing better in its stead. While he was questioning her as to the symptoms of her supposed disorder, she answered in tones so low as to be scarcely audible, and hardly ventured to lift her eyes from the carpet. The professional part of his visit, however, was soon over, and when it had been despatched, as he still felt a wish to linger, with the intention of leading her into conversation, he expressed his regret at her having suffered from the effect of the last evening's revel, and then inquired if she "were fond of dancing."

"Not remarkably fond," was the somewhat laconic reply. But the desired effect followed. Some other commonplace remarks served as the prelude to a conversation which, to the parties themselves, at least, became interesting as it advanced ; that reserve and diffidence which, in spite of every effort, occasionally clings to youthful individuals of different sexes, when they find themselves for the first time left to each other's company, seemed to wear; off, and they began to feel almost as easy as if they had been old acquaintances, or rather friends.

"Though beauty, I believe, is a quality which is in general highly prized by young ladies," said Dr. Bridges, in answer to some previous observation, "yet I can easily suppose that it is not without its inconveniences; for had your own personal charms been less, you would have had fewer admirers last evening, and consequently fewer solicitations to dance, by which means you might have escaped your present cold."

This compliment was wholly unexpected: it was, moreover, bestowed on one who had been but little accustomed to such things; and thus the individual to whom it was addressed felt rather at a loss for a suitable reply.

"My present cold is a mere trifle," said she, "scarcely worth mentioning. But I hope Dr. Bridges has not conceived so poor an opinion of me, as to suppose that I am vain of what he has been pleased to call my personal charms."

There may be such a thing as a possibility of schooling people of both sexes into a method of managing conversations, and perhaps everything else, by rules previously laid down; but when such a course of instruction has never been attempted, blunders and mistakes, which may be either amusing or distressing, according to the nature of the case, must frequently occur. Of the truth of this, the experience of almost everyone will furnish him with at least some examples. While Miss Forester pretended to disclaim all vanity, the blush which rose to her cheek told that she was not altogether deaf to the voice of praise. This, however, the inexperience of the other led him to mistake for an expression of displeasure. He was not by nature very well qualified either for disguising his own feelings, or discovering the real sentiments of others. Highly susceptible of impressions, and but little practised in the arts of the world, as soon as this idea had got into his head, he felt like one who all at once discovers that he has done something to forfeit the very esteem which he was labouring to conciliate.

"By no means, ma'am," he stammered out. "I, I"—he would have made some apology, but he found himself getting more and more embarrassed, and he could only articulate the words, "I but spoke the truth;" after which he bowed and made his exit. Thus terminated an interview from which he had promised himself much pleasure, and from which, if he had deserved any, it was counter-balanced by at least as much vexation.

In an affair of honour, or in an ordinary case, the manner in which he had endeavoured to exculpate himself must have been regarded by the offended party as a high aggravation of the original offence; but in the present instance it were difficult to say if it was not the very best apology which he could have offered; for he was no sooner gone than Miss Forester, who had observed his embarrassment, and partly guessed the cause of it, began to accuse herself for having treated him uncivilly, and to wish that he had only stayed till she could offer some explanation. "It was kind in him," she argued, "to pay even an unmeaning compliment to one with whom he was so little acquainted : and then he did not look like a practised flatterer." The natural conclusion was that she had done wrong, from which it was only a natural transition to wish for an opportunity of remedying her mistake.

Her wish was not long in being gratified; for though Dr. Bridges did not call, as she had almost expected he would, next day, on the day following that his professional concerns led him to the same quarter of the town in which she lived. He had previously determined on going straight home, and thinking as little as possible, either of Miss Forester or his former visit, upon both of which it was somehow painful to reflect; but when he came in sight of the house he began to consider if it were not alike inconsistent with the established rules of his profession, and the safety of his patient, thus to discontinue his visits without any assurance of her health being fully re-established. He called to mind several cases in which a trifling indisposition, from being neglected, had produced the most serious consequences; and before he reached the door he had fully satisfied himself of the propriety of making another visit.

On this occasion he was received with the greatest cordiality by both father and daughter, the latter of whom was completely recovered. Mr. Forester, in particular, who, with some eccentricities, was warm hearted in the extreme, where he considered himself obliged, appeared to feel grateful for his daughter's speedy restoration, beyond what the case really merited.

"Welcome, doctor!" he exclaimed, shaking him by the hand at the same time with old-fashioned frankness; "and as I much doubt whether Eliza will have the grace to thank you for the services you have rendered her, you must permit me to offer you the thanks of her father, which, after all, may not he much worse than those of a foolish girl."

After some farther conversation upon common subjects, "I daresay you will find it rather difficult to establish yourself among us," said he; "for we are a bigoted sort of people. With us everything which is old is good, and everything which is new is worthless, at least for a time; but if you can only afford to wait till you get us on the go I have no doubts of your carrying all before you."

"I am aware," said the other, "that it is always an affair of some difficulty to get into practice; and where a professional rival is already established I know, too, that this can only be done either by servility or superior talents. The first alternative I cannot think of adopting; and as I have used my best endeavours to make myself master of my profession, if my abilities, such as they are, do not recommend me to notice, I must even try to live without it."

"I honour you for your sentiments," said Mr. Forester, with an approving smile. "But is it not hard," he continued, "in these days, when the whole of us must be gentlemen at once, for a young fellow to subject himself to all those hardships and inconveniences which he must unavoidably encounter before his talents can be discovered and appreciated by a world which grows old, and seldom wears spectacles, when looking for those who are willing to make their fortunes by an honourable application to an honest calling ?"

"It may be hard, as you observe," rejoined the other; "but methinks those who never encountered hardships can hardly be said to conquer, even when they obtain a victory; and besides, I have not been such a stranger to those hardships and inconveniences of which you speak as to feel very uncomfortable in their company."

Though not exactly qualified to shine in a fashionable circle, or to attract general attention by brilliant conversational powers, there was about Roland Bridges a degree of firmness and manly sentiment, which formed at least a good basis for future eminence. This Mr. Forester, who was a man of considerable penetration, soon discovered; and after a long and interesting conversation, when he was about to depart, in addition to the father's assurance, that "he would always be glad to see him when he had a moment to spare," he had the farther satisfaction of seeing Miss Forester, who said, "she hoped, as often as his professional duties permitted, he would honour them with a call, without being sent for, as was the case the. last time they had the pleasure of his company."

To the young surgeon these invitations were highly gratifying; but every one has heard of there being "a tide in the affairs of men"—that tide was now beginning to flow, and in putting him in the way of receiving such invitations, dame Fortune was playing exactly the same game which she has played to thousands. A few weeks ago, when his time was almost wholly at his own disposal, no one seemed to think his society worth the asking; but from the period here referred to, his prospects improved so rapidly, that in a few weeks more he had scarcely a moment to spare; and then he was pressed with invitations to dinners and tea parties on all hands. Most of these, as a matter of course, he was forced to decline; but whether invited or not, he seldom wanted some excuse for seeing Miss Forester, at short intervals; nor upon these occasions was a friendly welcome from her father awanting.

One evening, as he was on his way to make one of these casual visits, he met his friend Mr. M'Quiddit, who appeared to have been looking for him.

"Whither away in such a hurry V said the lawyer, in his usual tone of light raillery.

"Only to Mr. Forester's, to whom you were so good as to afford me an introduction," was the reply.

"By the Apostle John, and John Bull," said the other, "and the bones of all the popes and cardinals who lived, died, and were buried before the flood, I could not possibly introduce you to a family to which I was never introduced myself, and with which, from the little company they keep, I have never been able to make an acquaintance."

"That is not exactly what I mean," said the surgeon; "but by introducing me at Mrs. M'Intosh's, you were indirectly the means of getting me introduced both here and elsewhere."

"Well, well," rejoined the lawyer, "I am glad to hear you say so; and as I have been the indirect means of introducing you, if you have no objection, you shall be the direct means of introducing me. This same rich citizen must have a will to make, and sundry things of that sort to do, which lie in my way; and there is no great harm in looking out for a job—-sailors must keep their eyes on the wind, you know, though it is probable they see just as little of it as we do."

This request was at once complied with; and whether it were that Mr. Forester really entertained a previous respect for Mr. M'Quiddit, or that he only extended to him that respect which is due to a friend's friend, it matters little, but both were received with the usual welcome. The man of business and the surgeon repeated their visits oftener than once in company, and they always found the father the same, though by no means rash in extending either his friendship, or the circle of his acquaintances, it even seemed as if he had begun to entertain a very favourable opinion of the young lawyer; but somehow the daughter, after the first time, could rarely be prevailed upon to honour them with her company. She always found some excuse for leaving the room at the earliest opportunity; and Mr. M'Quiddit, either satisfied with the progress which he had already made, or having business of importance which demanded his presence elsewhere, began to relax his attention, In this respect, however, Dr. Bridges did not follow his example. The intimacy between him and the family of the retired merchant seemed rather to increase, while he at the same time seemed to be sensible, that it was to this friendship he owed at least a considerable portion of his success.

"Before Miss Forester caught cold," he said, on one occasion, "nobody thought of calling me; but since I had the honour of attending her, people seem anxious to become sick, that I may have an opportunity of either killing or curing them, and at the same time the inexpressible satisfaction of putting my hand as deep as I please into their pockets."

"And since this is the case," said Miss Forester, "out of gratitude for so eminent a service, you can do no less than regard me as your patron saint ever after; and if such a thing should happen to be in your power, I hope you will not neglect to have my name duly inserted in the calendar."

In answer to this piece of raillery, Dr. Bridges whispered something in her ear about "giving her a new name, and getting that name inserted in the parish register instead of the calendar of saints," which made her push him from her with a half playful motion of her hand; while it brought the blood to her cheek in a spring-tide flush, which made her glad to leave the room upon some pretended errand, from which she did not return till he was gone.

People are seldom long without some cause of anxiety. While everything else was prospering with Dr. Bridges, he had of late seen little of Mr. M'Quiddit, and he almost began to suspect that he had unwittingly given him some cause of offence. Though he could not discover what this cause might be, he felt extremely uneasy at the idea of such a thing being in existence. But one day as he was passing along the street, revolving the matter in his own mind, he saw Miss Forester approaching, in an opposite direction, and just as he was about to salute her, he was agreeably surprised by the friend of whom he had been thinking slapping him on the shoulder, and exclaiming, "What, doctor! so busy now dealing out medicines, writing out accounts like a lawyer, letting blood, and making crooked legs to other people, that I suppose you don't know your oldest and your hest friends in passing."

The surgeon laughed, and shook him heartily hy the hand, while Miss Forester passed on without speaking.

"By mine honour," said the other, in a tone loud enough to be heard at some distance; "by mine honour, a noble looking girl that, and I only wish I knew where to find an individual of the other sex who might deserve such a treasure. But," he continued, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, "they tell me you are the happy man yourself Ho'; and now that we have met after so long an absence, pray he pleased to step into the tavern here, and permit me to drink her health, not forgetting your own.''

Dr. Bridges said something about "not having been accustomed to frequent taverns," and was proceeding to decline the invitation, but his friend interrupted him before he could arrange his ideas.

"Well, I declare," he said, "one would almost be tempted to think you were going to turn puritan, and hold forth on the streets to a crowd of gaping ignoramuses upon the wickedness of the world, and the unpardonable sin of eating and drinking —concluding your sermons, as in duty bound, with a full assurance that fasting is preferable to prayer; and, in order to reach heaven, that men must take care to starve themselves while on earth. Well if you persist in these laudable intentions, you will be reckoned a saint: there can be little doubt of that. But in this degenerate age, saintship, I fear, will not sell at a great premium among your patients. The calendar, moreover, is already full; and the publicans say that your tailor has forgot to furnish your unmentionables with pockets; for they never see your money. These people really have influence; and if they should raise the hue and cry, who knows what might he the consequence? Come, come, man! it is for your good I counsel you, and unless you are determined on becoming a ranter, you will not doubt me now."

Overcome by this species of oratory, which has in general more power over young people than most of them would be willing to acknowledge, Dr. Bridges suffered himself to be conducted into the tavern, where his friend immediately called for a quantity of liquor, of which, as soon as it was brought, he poured out a glass, drank it off to the health of Miss Forester; and then filling up another, handed it across the table to the surgeon.

When the liquor was finished—"Now," said Mr. M'Quiddit, "as I brought you here, I will deal honourably with you; your tailor's mistake shall not be brought to light if I can help it; for I will pay what I have called, and then, as you have so many patients to attend, and so much physic to mix, I will not press for your longer stay." With these words he was reaching his hand to the bell; but the other stopped him by saying, that "he hoped he did not consider him either unable or unwilling to take a glass with a friend, and to pay his share of the reckoning like an honest man."

"Well," said the lawyer, "if you will only promise to he a man, and drink half, I have no objection to sitting another quarter of an hour or so." Upon these conditions the liquor was called for, and the drinking of it commenced. Mr. M'Quiddit was of that particular temperament upon which ardent spirits produce comparatively little effect; though partially intoxicated, he could say things to make others laugh, without allowing a single muscle of his own face to be disturbed; even when so drunk that he could scarcely walk, he could still maintain all the gravity of a judge; and upon these qualities he could safely presume. With the other it was widely different: there was in his disposition a natural sensitiveness and excitability, which seemed to be the cause of much of his awkwardness and diffidence among strangers, but which, when acted upon by any stimulant, at once rose into noisy mirth. Some allusions to Miss Forester, which were made in the most flattering manner, had tended to elevate his spirits above the ordinary level; and thus before the second supply of liquor was concluded, he was exactly in that state of sobriety in which men are inclined to be pleased with the whole world, and to call for more of that which has made them so. Accordingly, when Mr. M'Quiddit again spoke of going home, he was warmly opposed by the surgeon, who now said, that "they might surely each spare a single afternoon from the drudgery of their professions, in which to enjoy themselves a little." It did not require any extraordinary degree of persuasion to induce the other to sit down—once seated, he again enlivened the conversation with quaint observations and humorous sallies, which never failed to draw peals of laughter from his companion; and when the afternoon was nearly spent, Dr. Bridges seemed determined to pass the evening in the same manner. Mr. M'Quiddit, however, represented to him in strong terms the impropriety of doing so, and, at a little after sunset, he succeeded in getting him to the door. The poor surgeon, as drunken people usually do, had all along supposed himself quite sober; but when he got into the street, he found that he could not walk; and his friend, if such he may be called, had to bribe the waiter to assist him home.

In the meantime, the servant of a wealthy individual, whose wife was on the eve of being confined, had called at his lodgings to tell him that her mistress was taken ill, and to request his immediate attendance; but as he was absent, his landlady had sent her to Mr. Forester's, where he had sometimes been found on former occasions. There, however, he was not; but the circumstance alarmed Miss Forester, and taking her mantle, she followed the messenger in the direction of the tavern, where she had last seen him, with the expectation that she might learn by accident the cause of his absence. She had not ,gone far when she saw him in charge of the waiter: as usually happens in such cases, he had grown much worse after coming out to the open air; the ribald jest, the silly question, the sentence broken off in the middle by a hickup, and the heavy lurch, told too plainly what he had been about; and Miss Forester, who, unobserved by him, had come near enough to see and hear these things, almost sickened at the sight.

Unfortunately, drunkenness is too common to excite much surprise in any rank of society; but still, to a virtuous woman, who has given her heart, with all its warm affections, to one whom her imagination has been busy clothing in the best attributes of humanity, nothing can be more distressing than to see that favoured object reduced with his own consent, and by his own act, to a state of drivelling imbecility, worse than the worst idiocy which Nature ever produced. Affection may try to plead excuses, and pass slightly over the darker evidence against him, but still, to a reflecting mind, the question must occur—What prospect of honour or fame for the man who can wilfully throw away his reason.

When Dr. Bridges arrived at his lodgings, his landlady told him that Mr. Potter's maid had been there to request his immediate attendance on her mistress's account. He had been previously engaged to give his attendance on that particular occasion, and the information which he now received tended materially to dissipate the fumes of the liquor. There was in Mrs. Potter's case some peculiarities which rendered it a pressing, and if not properly treated, a dangerous one; it was upon Miss Forester's recommendation that he had been engaged; and as soon as he could walk without assistance, he proceeded to the house. But the girl, on getting home, had told her master in what state she saw him, and as time> was too precious to be lost, Dr. Drugster had been already called. The consequence of all this was, that the servant, instead of admitting him to the patient, showed him into a separate room, and said, "she would tell her master." He immediately began to suspect that something was wrong. Had he been in the full possession of his reasoning powers, candour would have drawn from him a ready confession of his misconduct; but those who have made only a slight deviation from the paths of rectitude, can seldom stop till something more serious occurs; and when Mr. Potter confronted him, he began to stammer out some excuse about "being called away to attend a dying patient." As he spoke, his breath smelled strongly of the liquor he had been drinking, there was a haggard expression about his countenance, which told too plainly of his late debauch; and Mr. Potter, who, besides being naturally of a passionate disposition, already knew the real cause of his absence, and who was, moreover, quick-sighted enough to detect those evidences of intemperance which he still carried about his person, cut him short by observing, dryly— "A pretty fellow, indeed; first to get drunk, and then follow the example of other drunkards, by adding falsehood to drunkenness !"

By this time, Dr. Bridges was in that state of morbid nervous sensibility, which often follows a fit of intoxication; the word falsehood stuck in his throat. For a few seconds he seemed at a loss what to say or do, and then trembling with passion, he exclaimed, "He is a villain who will say that I—I ever was guilty of falsehood!"

"I think, young man, you carry your head too high," said Mr. Potter, regarding him the while with a look which was meant to be one of calm contempt; "but I can forgive you, and time will prove who is the greatest villain. Recollect," he added, as he was leaving the room, " that Dr. Drugster served the people of this place, in the capacity of medical attendant, before they saw your face, and the good man can do so still, though some folks, who do not seem to consider punctuality a virtue, should choose to forget their own interest, and endanger the lives of their patients, by their bacchanalian exploits."

Thus left to his own meditations, the surgeon stole back to his lodgings, where he spent a sleepless night, in a state of mind not easy to be described. Next morning he received a very polite and very formal note, from Mr. Potter, requesting him to send in his account, and hinting that neither his presence nor his services would be required in future. Had his nerves retained their wonted firmness, and its mind its usually vigorous tone, such an occurrence would have probably made little impression upon either; but while both were out of tune, he felt that the excesses of which he had been guilty were, to say the least of them, in one of his profession, highly unbecoming; he felt farther, the risk which he ran of incurring the disapprobation of his friends and the public; under the pressure of these feelings, he had no heart to make the necessary calls upon his patients, and after pushing aside an almost un-tasted breakfast, he directed his steps to Mr. Forester's, in the hope that he might have an opportunity of explaining the whole affair to that gentleman and his daughter, before any exaggerated report could reach them.

The moment he saw Miss Forester, however, his resolution failed him : she appeared anxious to treat him with civility; but there was a something both sad and constrained in her manner. Those indications of feeling which are so minute that they might escape the observation of the innocent, after being seen for the hundredth time, frequently attract the attention of the guilty at the very first glance. Though she strove to appear kind, her eye did not meet his with that intelligence, warm from the heart, which was its wont; on the contrary, it either drooped, or seemed to wander in search of other objects. He immediately concluded, that some one had brought her intelligence of that which, in reality, she had herself seen; and while he wished to make the fullest confession of his fault, and to promise that it should never be repeated, he could not find words with which to introduce the subject. Miss Forester, oh the other hand, was almost equally embarrassed. No one could have been more ready to forgive than she was, but then it became not her to interrogate; and thus their first efforts at conversation were of that kind which is sometimes resorted to as a substitute for silence.

"A most delightful morning this," said the surgeon; "the fresh air is so cool, and everything is so agreeable, I suppose it has tempted your father to take a walk."

"I rather think it was some business which led him out," said Miss Forester, affecting a careless ease which she did not feel.

"I should have been glad to see him had he been at home,'' rejoined the surgeon; "but I suppose we must bear these little disappointments with patience—there is no other remedy for the evils of life."

"We should try to overcome them when it is in our power," said the other, attempting to smile; but the sudden recollection that the words contained an implied rebuke, quenched that smile in an instant, and she added, rather confusedly, "My father will soon be back—he promised to return by ten, and he is always punctual."

The word punctual, though spoken by a voice which was at all times gentle, grated harshly on Dr. Bridges' ear : it seemed to glance at the manner in which he had neglected his interest and his engagement in Mrs. Potter's case; the confusion with which it was uttered, he mistook for an indication of rising displeasure; and, again unmanned by his own recollections and fancies, he looked at his watch, pretended to remember the case of some patient, whom he should have visited, and took his leave abruptly. "Whatever might be his former disquietude, it was now increased ten-fold; but he was not long permitted to muse on the consequences of his own misconduct; for the next individual whom he met was Mr. M'Quiddit.

"Glad to see you, doctor," he said, giving way to a suppressed chuckle—"glad to see you able to stir at any after your last night's glorification. But in the name of how many saints and martyrs shall I adjure you to tell me what ails you? for you look as melancholy and woe-begone this morning as if that great barrel, which men call the world, had been unhooped, and fallen to staves about your ears."

"If I look woe-begone, it is net without a reason," retorted the other, rather sharply. He then proceeded to give him a brief account of what had happened last night, and the note which he had received that morning, to which he was about to add some bitter reflections on what he considered the cause of his misfortune when his friend interrupted him.

"Pooh, pooh!" said he, "only one of those tricks of which the blind jilt Fortune plays a thousand every day. I can assure you she has played me twenty such in my time; but you are only a recruit, and too raw to be able to look upon these trifles with indifference. Nevertheless, you must give the good dame the go by in her own way, and when she sees she has a man to deal with she will be less ready to jilt you in future. But there is another thing for which I am really sorry—your ballast was rather out of trim last night, and------"

"And whose fault was that?" interrupted the surgeon, in a tone of bitter reproach.

"Nay, hold there," said the other; "you would accuse me —I know it. But hark ye, and in your haste, do not forget to take reason along with you. I did but take you into the tavern to drink a friendly glass, and straightway you would have more. And had it not been for myself—little as you may think of the service—you might have been sitting there to this precious moment, or you might have sat till the day of doom, for anything I know to the contrary, leaving your patients to pack up their awls for the other world, and your physic as a heritage to the moths."

"I fear they would find some of it rather indigestible," said the man of medicine, laughing in spite of himself.

"That may be," continued the other, echoing the laugh of his friend; "and so much the better, seeing it would make the heritage last the longer. But as I have got you off this sand bank, and safe to sea again, I must now tow you into port; for you are in the horrors I see, or in the dumps, if that name please you better; and now listen to what I am about to say. I have been drunk fifty times—ay, a hundred, I daresay —and when I got sober again I was as sad and dejected, and all that sort of thing, as you can possibly be ; nay, there were times, I believe, when I really thought the world was going to fall to pieces; but I always found that a single glass of the right spirit next morning sent the blue devils about their business, and restored me to my senses again. Now, your patients must be visited, and at present you have not the heart to go through with it; so come away and I will put you to rights in two minutes."

There was a something in this rodomontade, meaningless as it may seem, which, when aided by the voice and manner of a naturally good speaker, went directly to lessen the disgrace of drunkenness, and it really lightened Dr. Bridges' heart of nearly half its load. They, accordingly went into the nearest public-house, where Mr. M'Quiddit called for a small quantity of their "best spirits," and when each had drunk their share the remains of his gloomy thoughts appeared to be dissipated as if by magic. So immediate was the relief which he experienced that he could not help thanking his friend as they left the house; who, in return, bade him "never droop, though he should happen to get a little top-heavy, but take comfort where he could find it."

He now proceeded to visit his patients as if nothing had happened. Most of these patients, however, were already aware of what Mr. M'Quiddit had called his "last night's glorification;" the odour of his breath, upon the present occasion, did not discountenance the stories which they had heard; and in more than one family he was looked upon with suspicion. A drunken surgeon, or a drunken physician, is an anomaly from which every sane man must turn with feelings of dislike. In numerous instances the life of a patient may depend upon the nicest discrimination: a trifling delay, the circumstance of not detecting some obscure symptom, the prescribing of an improper medicine, or a mistake as to the quantity of a proper one, may, in some cases, prove fatal; and there is a general feeling that those who cannot at all times command their own reason should not be trusted where there are such dreadful risks.

From that day forward Dr. Bridges' practice began sensibly to diminish, and. in a short time it was again almost wholly confined to the poor. Reports, the most prejudicial, as to both his moral character and professional abilities, got into circulation, no one could tell how; the public, as most people well know who have had to deal with it, is ever ready to run into extremes; these reports were believed without much examination as to their truth ; and now when much of his time was again at his own disposal very few thought of enabling him to pass that time more pleasantly by inviting him to their tables. Mr. M'Quiddit, however, still continued to assure him that it was only a freak of Fortune, and that the blind dame, when she was tired of persecuting, would again smile upon him. He was also fortunate enough still to retain the friendship of Mr. Forester and his daughter, the former of whom did everything in his power to recall public opinion to its proper channel, while the latter, who was as willing to forgive as she was ready to sympathise, felt for what she considered his misfortunes, as acutely as if they had been her own, and frequently strove to support and cheer him under them. Had he been satisfied with the solace which she could afford, time and her father's friendship might have restored his lost reputation; but unfortunately, in spite of her endeavours to cheer him, and his own efforts to be cheerful, he felt occasionally that lowness of spirits from which, when their prospects are clouded, though it may be but for a season, few are wholly exempted ; and then, recollecting the relief which he had experienced on a former occasion, he had again recourse to the bottle, and again he felt relieved. But the relief, not being a natural one, only predisposed him for an earlier and a deeper relapse into the same melancholy mood; and every time the experiment was repeated, it required a larger quantity of liquor to produce the desired effect. In the public-houses, too, and caverns, of which he became a daily frequenter, he soon began to forget himself. At first, this only happened when he chanced to meet his friend Mr. M'Quiddit, who was in most respects too many for him; but then matters were so managed, that the carouse was of his own proposing, and the man of business always took care to get him home before it was dark, for which he took no small credit to himself. By and by he began to court the company of still more despicable characters; for when once on the downward road of intemperance, people can rarely stop till they reach the bottom. In a short time he became a prey to hangers-on and common topers, who declaimed against Dr. Dragster, and the ignorant prejudices of the people, and flattered, and pretended to sympathise with him, for the liquor which, at his own expense, he allowed them to drink. As the legitimate result of such proceedings, he was on several occasions, in broad day, carried through the open street to his lodgings, with a crowd of boys laughing and hallooing behind him; even the poorest inhabitant of the place became afraid to trust his health in such hands; his means of supporting himself honestly were thus destroyed, his expenses incalculably increased, and debts accumulated; and last and worst, even Miss Forester was forced to acknowledge to herself, not without a shudder, that when she saw him he was frequently under the influence of liquor.

To her he had never spoken of his excesses; and now he was so much altered by that degrading vice, that he no longer seemed to think any apology necessary. She, on the other hand, saw with the bitterest regret the termination to which he was hastening, but still, with characteristic delicacy, she shrunk from the disagreeable task of admonishing and reproving. She knew that if her father should come to a full knowledge of his excesses, the connection would be at once broken off; with a woman's affection for a favoured object, she imputed these excesses to the misleading influence of his principal associate ; and to break this influence she at last bethought her of an expedient.

"Jenny," said she to the servant girl, "do you know Andrew Baxter?" The girl blushed deeply, and acknowledged that she did know him. "Do you know, then," continued her mistress, "if he has received the five hundred pounds which were left by his uncle who died in the West Indies."

"Why do you ask that question at me?" inquired the girl, still blushing.

"Because I think you know something of his secrets," said the other; "and because I believe your happiness is intimately connected with that circumstance. That you are under a promise of marriage to Andrew, I know; for I heard that promise made, though you never supposed any one was near—that it was by accident, you may believe—nay, do not run away, for your secret is safe in my keeping. And I know, too, that were he able to furnish a house, you would be married immediately; but as he has been thoughtless, and spent his money in the alehouses, you must wait till the five hundred pounds, or at least a part of it, arrives."

"Ay," interrupted the girl; "and there are some folk, not far distant, who spend more money in the ale-houses than ever poor Andrew had to spend; but what is the meaning of all this?"

"I will tell you that presently," said Miss Forester, blushing in her turn. "Has Andrew ever spoken to you of the new house which Mr. M'Quiddit is building?"

"Ay has he," said the other: "and Andrew says that he is building it with his money, and if he was only able to creish the clerk's loof with twa notes or sae, he would be at the bottom of the matter in some way or other. But the clerk was angry at not getting the job, and he cannot face him without money; and he has been so thoughtless ever since he had the prospect of the five hundred pounds, that he never has a penny to spare; and as Mr. M'Quiddit says there is no security for a fcvrden of his uncle's property ever reaching this country, nobody will lend him siller; and so he maun e'en wait till I get my half year's wages. I aye wished to tell you, but I never likeit to speak about it. For mony a time," she added, beginning to sob, "mony a time I think that Geordie Banks would be a better bargain without a bawbee, than Andrew wi' his five hundred pounds; but I likeit him first, and whatever he bids me do, I can never say no."

"You are a good and a warm-hearted lass, Jenny," said Miss Forester, endeavouring to comfort her; "and it is that partly which makes me interest myself in your affairs. I will not, however, attempt to deny that I have an object of my own in view; but of that I can tell you afterwards. In the meantime, you know that my father never allows me to have more than twenty shillings in my possession at a time; nor do I blame him for his care, for it has often been the means of preventing me from spending money foolishly; but here is a necklace and a ring, which are worth at least three pounds—dispose of them as you will; take the money to Andrew Baxter, and do not leave him till you have seen him on his way to the town-clerk. Tell him, farther, to do everything in his power to bring this affair to light; and despatch, for my father will be back by twelve."

While Miss Forester and her maid were thus arranging matters of their own, her ill-fated lover, and his never-failing friend, were regaling themselves in a neighbouring tavern, with what they were pleased to call their morning. For the benefit of the uninitiated reader, it may be here stated that morning in the language of a certain class, does not mean the natural return of light, hut a glass of some strong stimulant taken before breakfast, for the purpose of winding up the animal machine after a debauch, to enable them to perform the duties of the day, and also to serve as a whet for that meal. Dr. Bridges had been late in rising : it was nearly ten o'clock when they sat down to prepare themselves for future usefulness ; and, as Mr. M'Quiddit said all his fine things over in his best style, and rallied his friend on his want of spirits in the most amusing manner, the latter ventured upon two or three mornings instead of one, and ultimately forgot that anything more than mornings was necessary till dinner time. Upon this occasion, however, Mr. M'Quiddit was decidedly opposed to drinking deep, and so they whiled away their time in sipping small quantities at intervals, singing songs which they thought very merry, and saying things which they fancied others would deem fine, if they were only favoured with an opportunity of hearing them. In this manner two hours passed away: it was noon, and then the man of the law proposed that they should each take off a glass, and quit the premises like men who had determined not to forget their business for their pleasures.

By this time Dr. Bridges was exactly in that state which may be termed "gloriously drunk." He fancied himself as rich as a Jew, as strong as Samson, and as happy as the happiest man that ever lived; and when the other proposed that they should take a walk previous to commencing the labours of the day, he assented with a hiccup, and a declaration that "he would go with him to the world's end,"

When they had proceeded some way along the street, "Glory be to the Giver of all good things!" exclaimed Mr. M'Quiddit, "but where are we now? As I am a good Christian man, and neither a Mahometan, nor a Jew, I declare we are before the door of your intended father-in-law, and in no other part of the world. But then he is such a disciplinarian, and such a saint, that you dare not venture into his presence, after you have been tasting."

"But I dare though," was the brief and energetic reply; and therewith the whisky-inspired speaker wheeled off like a whirlwind to prove the truth of his assertion. But his companion caught him by the coat-tail, and detained him, whispering at the same time, "Hold, hold—nay, come along this way a little, and I promise you I will tell you something which shall be for your advantage." Though sometimes inclined to be boisterous and self-willed in his cups, he was easily led away by a show of friendship; and thus counselled, he followed the man of business in silence, till they reached the outskirts of the town; but here, as the other still continued silent,—probably from a wish to enhance his information by delaying it for a time—he lost patience.

"Come come, Quiddit,'' he said, "do tell me what you brought me here for, and don't keep me wondering out my very soul about what is perhaps only a mere trifle after all." "Not such a trifle either," rejoined the other. "Well, well, tell me—tell me," said the surgeon, "I am all out of impatience, as you know,—ha, ha, ha."

"Well," said the lawyer, yielding at last to his importunity. "I brought you here as a friend, to tell you, that I fear your affairs are getting rather embarrassed. There is that bill which becomes due by the end of next week, you know. Now I much doubt if you have the ready."

"Why, where is the hundred pounds you promised to borrow for me?" inquired the other, growing serious for a moment. "To say truth," replied the lawyer, "money has become so scarce in these latter days, that I have not been able to borrow a farthing, though I have done all that a friend could do; and after having failed myself, I even went so far as to give your note to an intimate acquaintance to try what he could raise on your account, but I am almost certain he will not succeed."

"That accursed bill," muttered the surgeon in a low, tone of bitter reflection,— "cannot borrow a farthing, and I have not one to meet the demand. Well, there is not much friendship, after all, in bringing a man so far to remind him of his poverty. But the thought has made me sad, so come away back, for I must have another glass, or, if you won't, by Heaven! I go alone."

"Why, man, do not twist your mouth so terribly on one side, and look so cavalierly at me," said Mr. M'Quiddit, "I have no mind to fight, I assure you, and if I had, I should never think of beginning with my friends. I should have never thought of mentioning either the bill or your poverty, were it not that I have a plan in my head, which, if properly followed out, will enable you to pay the one, and remedy the other."

"Well, I am a fool—a hasty fool," said the other laughing; "I acknowledge that. But you are a good-hearted fellow, my dear Quiddit—I know you are. But you must tell me this same plan immediately; for, as I said before, I am all out of impatience." Here he again laughed heartily at what he supposed his own jest.

"Since you desire me to proceed," said the lawyer: "there is Mr. Forester, who, with a few exceptions, is the richest man in the town. With all his riches, he must, as a matter of course, give his daughter a handsome portion when she is married; and besides, as he has no other child, she must ultimately be his heir. Now, I believe the girl loves you to distraction—upon my soul I do. And what hinders you, I would ask, from going to this Jew, this Croesus, this same hopeful father-in-law, and demanding pretty Miss Eliza in marriage at once. Why, man, she would be better to you than all the physic you ever sold, or are likely to sell—By Heaven ! she would be the making of your fortune in a single day."

"You are right—you are right!" rejoined the surgeon, slapping the former speaker on the shoulder as he spoke. " A glorious fellow, Quiddit! but, by Jove, you are right—she does love me; for now that I recollect, when I once gave her a hint about getting her name inserted in the parish register, she blushed as deep as a midsummer rose. And now I will have her—yes : by all the asses whose pates I ever plastered, when they complained of fever, and all the boobies whose blood I ever let, when they supposed themselves dying of plethora, I swear I will have her!"

"If you can get her," said Mr. M'Quiddit in a sneering tone, but so low as not to be heard by his enthusiastic companion, and then raising his voice, he added, "But do you think you have really fortitude sufficient, to go through with this affair which is to be the making of your fortune? Young fellows like you, are sometimes faint-hearted when they must come to the scratch in matrimonial matters."

"I must confess," said the other, still rubbing his hands in great glee, "I must confess that I have thought of the thing before, and wanted heart to go through with it; but if I had another glass, I am in the trim to go through with anything just now; and so, good morning, Arthur—my fortune shall be made before I see you again—good morning."

"Nay," said the cautious man of business; "if you are for another glass, I must go with you, to see that you do not take too much; for of late you have been rather given to forgetting yourself."

"Thank you, thank you," said the poor drunkard, "you were ever my friend, and you must be so to the end."

Instead of one glass each of them drank three, of what, in cant phrase, is called double-strong, which, poured into an empty stomach, produced a powerful effect upon the nervous system of the poor surgeon, who would have still called for more, had not his friend urged him to go and despatch his business immediately.

"But perhaps Ma—aster Frosteter is not at home," said the former, when they were once more in the street.

"Oh yes," rejoined the latter, "the old hunks was to be home precisely at twelve o'clock, I know that—nay, no offence, I respect him as much as you or any man living. And now, despatch, my dear fellow—strike the iron when it is hot, and God go with you, as the minister would say—The devil, I mean," he muttered between his teeth, as he turned away.. "Why I should have given myself so much trouble in this affair, I know not; and yet, as I shall hardly be able to stave off that drunken blockhead Baxter for ever, unless I can send you a poking, and get my hand into the old miser's purse, by means of his daughter, I may soon be as poor as you are."

Chapter II.