l, and his temper morose. For my own
part--and I watched him closely--I saw nothing but gentleness, and an
active disposition to do good at all times. The poor women and children
in the hospital loved him as a father, and I have seen their pale cheeks
flush, and dull eyes glisten as he approached their beds. This, I
thought, bespoke any thing but roughness and brutality in the surgeon.
What say you?"

"It would seem so."

"Well--I have written the baron a long letter concerning myself and my
own pursuits, believing that it will serve your interests better than a
mere formal letter of introduction. He will, I am sure, be pleased to
see you. Remember, Mr Walpole, an opportunity like the present may never
occur to you again. Be wise, and make the most of it."

Thus spoke my friend, and thus I received from him my credentials. My
only object in Paris was the ostensible one for which I came; and
accordingly, therefore, having secured a comfortable home with Madame
Bichat, a worthy motherly person residing in the "_Rue Richelieu,
vis-a-vis le Palais Royal_"--and having spent one long and gossiping
evening with my ancient chum M'Linnie--I buckled at once to my work.
Postponing all recreation and amusement until the time should arrive
which would make them lawful and give them zest, I left my lodgings the
second morning after my appearance in Paris, and made my way straight to
the dwelling-house of my future patron. It was eleven o'clock, the hour
at which the baron usually returned from the Hotel Dieu; five hours,
viz. from six till eleven A.M., being, as M'Linnie assured me, the time
allotted daily to the poor by the conscientious and distinguished
practitioner.

The baron was a bachelor, and he lived in first-rate style; that is to
say, he had magnificent apartments, in which it was his delight to
collect occasionally the united wit and learning of the capital, and a
handsome table for his friends at all times; for his hospitality was
unbounded. And yet his own daily habits were as simple and primitive as
might be. When at home, he passed his hours in the library, and slept in
the small bedroom adjoining it. The latter, like all dormitories in
France, was without a carpet, and altogether no better furnished than a
private ward in an English hospital. There was a small iron bedstead
just large enough for a middle-sized bachelor in one corner--a washing
apparatus in another--and a table and two chairs at some distance from