interest. Of course, while
there is life there is hope; but, unless I am very greatly
mistaken, we shall never see him again." And "the Professor" was
right. Within a month the dramatist had joined the silent majority.

The second story about my dear old friend is not so grim as its
predecessor.

Mr. Percival Leigh, when he was more than seventy years old, was
knocked down by a passing vehicle as he was crossing the road. He
was immediately picked up by a policeman and conveyed in a cab to
the nearest hospital. "The Professor," who was covered in mud,
asked to be taken home, but the constable would not listen to him.
So he was carried into the accident ward. After a while he was seen
by the house-surgeon and his assistant. The two medicos entirely
ignored "the Professor," and gave their exclusive attention to his
leg. "I think you are wrong," said Mr. Leigh, in a mild tone of
voice, after he had listened to their conversation for a few
moments. The doctors paid not the slightest attention to the
observation, and continued their investigations. Now "the
Professor" was the most mild and kindly of gentlemen--courteous to
a degree, and as polished as a traditional Frenchman--but when he
was roused he was--well, emphatically roused. He attempted a second
remonstrance, but with the same result. The two medicos calmly
ignored him. "Drop that leg, you confounded blockheads!" he
thundered out suddenly. "Can't you see, you idiots, that I have
fractured my ----," and then he supplied a highly technical and
scientific description of his accident. The two medicos stared at
"the Professor" in blank astonishment. Then "the Professor"
abandoned his incognito, and gave his name and quality. "You see,
gentlemen," he said, resuming his customary courteous tone, "I
venture to believe that I know more about my leg than you do. It
has been under my personal observation all my life, and I
consequently have given more time to studying its constitution and
idiosyncracies than you, naturally (with all your numerous
engagements), could afford to devote to such a purpose!"

Leigh had a philosopher's head and a fine face. In later life he was
extremely careless in his person--so much so that when he died Mr.
Bradbury, with his usual thoughtfulness, went to the funeral with a
cheque-