se those are lady
medical students."

"Yes, on their way to the Royal Free Hospital. Note the gravity of
their demeanor and contrast it with the levity of the male student."

"I was doing so," she answered, "and wondering why professional women
are usually so much more serious than men."

"Perhaps," I suggested, "it is a matter of selection. A peculiar type
of woman is attracted to the professions, whereas every man has to earn
his living as a matter of course."

"Yes, I daresay that is the explanation. This is our turning."

We passed into Heathcote Street, at the end of which was an open gate
giving entrance to one of those disused and metamorphosed
burial-grounds that are to be met with in the older districts of
London; in which the dispossessed dead are jostled into corners to make
room for the living. Many of the headstones were still standing, and
others, displaced to make room for asphalted walks and seats, were
ranged around by the walls exhibiting inscriptions made meaningless by
their removal. It was a pleasant enough place on this summer
afternoon, contrasted with the dingy streets whence we had come, though
its grass was faded and yellow and the twitter of the birds in the
trees mingled with the hideous Board-school drawls of the children who
played around the seats and the few remaining tombs.

"So this is the last resting-place of the illustrious house of
Bellingham," said I.

"Yes; and we are not the only distinguished people who repose in this
place. The daughter of no less a person than Richard Cromwell is
buried here; the tomb is still standing--but perhaps you have been here
before, and know it."

"I don't think I have ever been here before; and yet there is something
about the place that seems familiar." I looked around, cudgeling my
brains for the key to the dimly reminiscent sensations that the place
evoked; until, suddenly, I caught sight of a group of buildings away to
the west, enclosed within a wall heightened by a wooden trellis.

"Yes, of course!" I exclaimed. "I remember the place now. I have
never been in this part before, but in that enclosure beyond, which
opens at the end of Henrietta Street, there used to be and may be
still, for all I know, a school of anatomy, at which I attended in my
first year; in fact, I did my first dissection there."

"There was a certain gruesome appropriateness in the position of the
school," remarked Miss Bellingham. "It would have been